Thoughts...from my Mind

The Cult of Houston: This has nothing to do with Texas.

2011-02-09T21:34:00.000-05:00

"This is what you learned in college: a man desires the satisfaction of his desire, a woman desires the condition of desiring."-Pam Houston, How to Talk to a Hunter

I don't typically like to use the word "cult". One, because I was technically born into one which is an entirely different story altogether.* And two, because it invokes some sort of negative reaction, I immediately think animal torture and false vampirism, if that's even a word. And--in the case of this blog entry--I see a cult as a dedicated group of people who are aligned in the same vision and a privileged understanding through the works of an author.

It's hard to find a female author who embraces the values that I embrace. That many of my girlfriends embrace. That more young girls should have exposure to.

You have Jennifer Weiner, who is funny and entertaining but a little Cosmo and Seventeen-ish and I read her occasionally but I dont go YES. We grew up with Judy Blume and her simplistic style of writing that was relatable at age 9. Chelsea Handler has made her debut as the asshole female author of the world, but there are definitely no revelations in her writing that get caught in my throat. She's funny, but her writing definitely leaves something to be desired on an intellectual level.

Now there are some people who lose their shit over Ayn Rand. What a conservative goddess, or whatever. Admittedly, I like The Fountainhead. Even though I equate Howard Roark to a self-serving douchebag, I guess that's kind of the point, isn't it? How she made him a semi-protaganist, I'll never know. But I do walk away from a re-read, thinking "Come on moron, utilize your potential." This is in reference to myself, of course. However, I've read the first seventy pages of Atlas Shrugged like 95 times and I cant stomach it. I can force myself through most things, but at some point I really dont give a fuck who John Galt is.

There are few women that write from a place of reality. It's like they have to choose between completely feminizing themselves SATC-style (vommy) or de-sexualizing themselves through severe intellect. Even Handler's take tends to lean towards a masculinity that can be off-putting and surreal. There is an ultimate lack of vulnerability. You wonder why men are typically lauded for literary accomplishments? Because male authors have a ticket to be vulnerable, where women seem to have to fit a cut-out niche. You're either in pink high heels or Tevas. You're either worrying about your waistline or trying to play with the big boys. Either way, it sucks. Because the authenticity of the women that I know is that we fit into both and we play either/either.

Liv introduced me to Pam Houston on my recent trip to Baltimore. I had been hesitant to read her because...well...the book Liv wanted me to read so badly is called "Cowboys are my Weakness" and I felt like I was falling into another trap of potential feminine disappointment. I mean, the cover of the book looks like this:

To me this reads: Sex and the City. In the wild west. No thanks.

But delving into the actual book and others, I finally found the voice that I was looking for. The struggle between women and the culture, the difficulties that we** face in relationships and on our own, the decisions that we are faced with that are borne only to our gender. The layers are real. The vulnerability is damning. Houston turns what many of us see as our own personal internalized conclusions into this published thing that is verbalized in a way it removes some of the isolation of thought. You can talk about weight without being trite. You can wear pink high heels at night and tevas in the morning, without any questions to who you are, what choices you're making, and what kind of woman you're expected to be. There's no dichotomies, just a union of layered realities.

I guess I'm just relieved. Because I suck at playing the girl games. If you think you're Charlotte from Sex and the City, I probably think you're a dumbass. Wait. Reneg on that. If you think you're anyone from Sex and the City, you're either under the age of 21 (we're all dumb then) or...I definitely think you're a dumbass. And homey dont play that. Wait..what?

Anyway. So the cover and title are somewhat misleading. The content is overwhelming. The voice is my favorite. And I ordered seven of her books off Amazon and sent two copies of Cowboys out to two dear friends who are just as in need of a strong, smart, self-questioning, funny, intuitive, vulnerable female author as many of us are.

Thank you, Pam Houston. For being true to your voice. We need it out here in the jungle.

*I do prefer using the term "commune" in reference to the place I spent the first portion of my childhood, as there isn't too much negativity that I can spew about those eight years. In fact, it was a rather awesome place to be a child.

**"We" being women. Sorry dudes.

Life planning: A creative outlook

2011-01-25T19:51:00.001-05:00

A few things that are going on with me:
-In five weeks, my lease is up. WTF.
-"You dont have to go home, but you cant stay here" has basically been the message from my boss. Dont worry, buddy. The feeling is mutual.
-I've been offered a job in my same corporation but a different company in Baltimore. No diff in pay.
-I dont know what the eff to do with my life.

So I've been putting together life plans. Here's my favorite.

Age 26: Crap job, no savings, single and owns a cat

Age 27: Finds job in sales, sucks at it for awhile, adopts another cat in silent desperation. Still single.

Age 28: Start bringing in the Benjamins and kills debt. Meets potential love of life, but he's allergic to cats. Leaves me for a girl who owns two yorkshire terriers and a cockatiel.

Age 29: Finally works way up to top of sales chain; however, screws up a premier deal and is let go of company. Waitresses at Applebees to get by. Develops staph infection from a cat scratch and goes into medical debt. I now have to wear an eye patch. Decides to start breeding hamsters as a financial booster.

Age 30: Accidentally develops a breed of hamster that smells like grape soda and poops candy. No hamster sells for less than 5 grand a pop. Things are looking good! Meets attractive man who shares affinity for hamster culture. Fall in love, move in to double wide together on .23 peaceful acres.

Age 31: Learns man is a spy for another hamster operation. He steals vials of precious hamster DNA from a freezer like the guy in Jurassic Park. Hamster business quickly deflates due to competition and an FDA finding that the hamster poop candy is carcinogenic. Faces multiple lawsuits. Back to square one. 2 cats becomes 6 cats this year and still owns 132 un-sellable hamsters. Drinks obscene amount of Maui Wowey-flavored wine coolers.

Age 32: Awoken at 2:17 in the morning by a man in a white spandex body suit with something appearing to be hovering over his head. He announces that within my womb is the next coming of Jesus, whom I shall name Damien. Tries to convince me that "The Omen" was just a coincidence. I throw my alarm clock at him and turn on the light, realizing that its just the methhead from two trailers down completely naked wearing a beer helmet. I swear off the wine coolers.

Age 33: A tornado hits the double wide and rips off the roof. I now have 173 hamsters and 9 cats. All are sucked away except for The Wizard who permanently implants his claws into my right thigh. The hamsters are blown within a 100 mile radius and begin reproducing like crazy. The governor declares a state of emergency and Westboro church pickets that "Candy Shitting Hamster plague is the first sign of the apocalypse."

That's all I have. I hope its helpful for others looking to plan their lives. Fingers crossed that it can at least be that interesting.

It's Back. Or...A Confession of sorts. Or...Sorry, Babe*

2010-11-27T16:32:00.002-05:00

I ate a McRib last night. And french fries.

I ordered it without onions. Leave the pickles. No ketchup for the fries. And just a water. As I couldn't justify the soda.

I ate it at approximately 2:37am. It was an impulse buy. A reaction to the banner that makes my mouth water with the indelible memory of the last McRib I ate. Which had to have been more than ten years ago.

Biting into it, the bun was soft, very white-bready but a bit chewier. Not like the powdery shitty buns they put on the cheeseburgers. It was a solid bun. The sauce hit my mouth like an explosion of tangy sweet goodness. Twas plentiful but not plentiful enough that it would drip onto my clothes. It stuck to the meat as a fast food sauce should. The pickles countered the sweetness with the sharp salty edge of dilled deliciousness.

And the meat...I feel the most guilty about the meat. It has to be pork, right? I get the same feeling when I eat a hot dog. What is this, really? But is that even a question that I want to ask? I don't think so. I don't think I want to know.

The texture is pork-like. That is for sure. But my confusion arises in that the "ribs" follow a rib-like texture; however, there are no bones. Of course. You wouldn't want bones in a McRib. The meat too is salty and delicious. With hints of pigs raised in conditions that would make me cry if I were to investigate the origins of the meal.

Let's not think about that too much.

The french fries on the other hand...well...McD's french fries are by far the best of the bottom of the barrel. But these were a bit dry. Not the squishy favorites that I recalled in my fast food past. They could have used the ketchup I didn't go for.

There are multiple reasons to regret this decision. My intolerance to wheat. The shitty way the body that the body minorly shuts down post-fast food indulgence. Waking up at 4am in a cold sweat.

But I dont regret it. Not one bit. And in another ten years, when they bust out the signs informing me that "The McRib is BACK" I will have another go-round, McD's. Hold the onions. But next time, I'll be asking for extra pickles. And ketchup. For the fries.

*Babe refers to the pig that was the protaganist of my favorite book as a child and favorite movie as a pseudo-adult.

Favorite things for November

2010-11-22T23:28:00.001-05:00

It's been awhile since I've favorite thinged. So, in a much crappier version of what Oprah makes so amazing, here goes:

1. Sleep. Well I guess thats my favorite thing for today. As my mom has passed on to me whatever bug she has and I fell into a deep coma this afternoon. And I will be going to bed pretty much as soon as I get done typing this bloggo. I have to say, I have a pretty amazingly comfortable bed. I'm not too upset about getting back into after a two-hour wake break. Hope I can sleep this thing off. Def dont want to be sick this wk.

2. Banana cream pie puddings. In spite of my lactose intolerance, these are too good not too occasionally indulge. And as they're really bad for you, they last forever in the fridge. Usually, I hate the taste of fake banana. Fake banana runts? Gag me. But somehow they friggin nail it in these things. Eating one of these puddings is like putting a delicious banana cream pie right in your mouth. But cheaper and less time-consuming should you actually consider making a banana cream pie. I know that this topic is ripe for "That's what she said" jokes, but settle down, Beavises. And go out to the store and get yourself some.

3. Biosilk. It's a hair product that was introduced to me by my amazing CW campers about...God...eight years ago. I forgot about it for awhile but recently re-indulged and I'm reminded of why my hair actually used to look good. I'm sure since then they're all on some new crazy kick with an even better product, but for now, I will bask in the soft shininess that my hair has rediscovered.

4. Sequins. I could probably write an entire blog just on sequins but I will refrain from doing so as to not entirely destroy any meager credibility I might have left. But I went shopping at Cherry Creek mall yesterday and my eyes were arrested by sequins. Glorious sequins everywhere. There was a time in my life when I put on an outfit and a good friend told me, "Uhh you look like RuPaul" and it was in that moment that I realized I have a secret ultra-girly side that borders on drag-queenish taste. Glitter. Sequins. Bright colors. Ridiculous heels. Crazy makeup. Big hair. I would wear stuff like that all the time if I could get away with it. Now dont get me wrong. I love the Ralph Lauren-classic look, the J. Crew solids and the Anthropologie prints...but...I'm secretly wishing that Betsey Johnson would make a crazy dress. Just for me. With zebra print, black sequins, and pink taffeta.

That felt a little confessional. The moral of that story is...less drab, more FAB. I bought some amazing tiny-black-sequined ballet slippers this wkend. Expect to see them a lot. Moving on.

4. The Colorado Mammoth. So I have picked up a second job. No big deal, just helping out with indoor soccer games at a gym by my house. But when I went into work on Friday night........the Colorado Mammoth were on my field. Practicing. Ending their practice shall I say.

Now. I love sequins. But I also love lacrosse players. Sweaty, shaggy-headed, strappingly handsome, rugged lacrosse players. And here I was. In professional lacrosse heaven. So they're on the field. Stretching. I'm trying to play it cool. Which is impossible for me.

Then they do the best slash worst thing possible. They get off the field. And start stripping down. For me, this was like the equivalent of a guy being at a Victoria's Secret shoot. I'm gawking at a bunch of half naked Mammoth players like I've never seen a guy in my entire life. So of course, I decide I have errands to run and I walk through the pack like five times.

A few things happened. I got sidelined by a seriously hot ass digging through his bag. A dime of a gorgeous guy told me to just push past him. To which I had to touch his sweaty man body. And from there I had to push past alot of half-naked sweaty man bodies. Somebody cracked a joke and I retort with "Man you guys smell great. Thanks for classing up the joint" to which I got some laughter. As they pretty much smelled like a mix between dirty socks and mildew. Like, intensely smelled. Like, really really really smelled. Then I get accosted by a guy who has to be at least 6'4 and a dead ringer for McSteamy from Grey's Anatomy, who-in my opinion-is one of the hottest guys alive. He says the following "Hi.How are you.I am fine.Thanks for asking.Good to see you." to which I wanted to say "Um, can I touch you?" But I didnt. I just blushed like a teenager, smiled, and pushed past.

So I handled it pretty well. For an awkward girl wearing huge sweatpants pulled up abnormally high. Ah well. Looks like I'll just have to stop in. Every Friday.

5. Indian food. Curry in everything! Garam masala in everything! Mmmm indian food! I love to cook it AND eat it! YUM!! Currently, I'm in love with saag. And I'm looking forward to making some other awesome things. And gobble gobbling them all up.

6. CoCo. I have this friend. Her name is Kaitlin. And she recently got a harlequin Great Dane puppy that she named CoCo...after Conan O'Brien. But. CoCo is a girl. And I love her. She might be the cutest pup to hit the planet since the dawn of existence.Hi CoCo monster! You little devil-angel!

7. Advair. It helps me to breathe. I like that. Apparently, my asthma comes back worse as I get more in shape. That seems like it shouldn't be that way. Fuck you, asthma. What I do not like about Advair is that even with my insurance...its $143. Yeah. For something that I need to breathe. WTF. But my doc is gonna hook me up. Holla.

8. Four day wkend. I havent had one of these in God knows how long...maybe since 4th of July? I dont even remember. But I need one. Soooooo bad. I'm stoked.

And with that. I think eight is the number of the day. Good day to you.

Ode to The Wizard

2010-11-04T00:23:00.003-04:00

I read the following story as a performance piece in an amazing show in Denver called The Narrators. The theme was "Animals, Animals, Animals" and this was my take.

I was watching my cat earlier today. Carrying around his favorite toy, a short blue piece of rope. It’s twisted and knotted in a few places. Faded because he drags it through his water bowl for some unknown reason. He often meows loudly when he’s playing with it, and sometimes I think that it’s out of the frustration that he doesn’t have hands.

If you’ve ever watched a cat intently, you will notice their apparent frustration when attempting to pick up an object. Mine is no exception. He pokes and prods and stares forcefully, almost willing the object into the confines of his paws. He is loud and obstinate, whining at his own inabilities. His tendency towards frequent violence has led me to believe that if he were not the size of a typical housecat and he was rather the size of, let’s say, a bull mastiff, he would have killed me by now.

It’s not to say that I don’t love him in the way a pet owner must dutifully love their animal. There is something to be respected in an animal that lives so heavily in its own instinct yet so violently yearns to be something he isn’t. I can identify with him, really.

We live alone together in my sub-500 square foot apartment. He is very much a creature of the night, which heavily conflicts with not only my work schedule but my sleep schedule. His favorite way to wake me up is to sit as close to my face as he possibly can, until his breathing or his whiskers cause my eyes to flutter. At this first flutter of my eyelids, he open paw smacks the most convenient eye as hard as he can then flies to the other side of my apartment in a cowardly yet evil escape, eyes glinting in the metallic reflection of the low night glare. As he knows that it is between 4 and 5am and my unhappy ass is not, I repeat not, going to get up to whoop some ass.

If I’m reading a book, he is the first to come between me and the pages. And the majority of my most cherished read and re-read copies have the occasional bite marks and ripped edges, because destruction of paper reigns among his favorite activities.

My couch has also become his personal hallowed ground. Occasionally he will sweetly curl up in between my feet. Lest I move of course, in which my feet become the object of teeth, kicks, and claws. Which I keep neatly trimmed, much to his dismay. He does however appreciate a good film. And if I pop one in, he will watch the television with an attention span that I cannot even match. It’s moments like that where I question whether reincarnation is some kind of truth. But then I remember: He’s just a fucking cat.

I picked him out at the age of one day old, when he was a squirmy rat with perfect lilliputian black and white markings living in a crate with his cat family at the barn where my friend kept her horses. I dubbed him “The Wizard” somewhere in those first few wks, a joke name that stuck. The Wiz came home with me five wks later, a cuddly fat adorable little kitten, tiny enough to fit in the palm of your hand, such a baby that he would fall asleep mid-walk, and such a fattie I assumed that he would be the sweetest biggest fattest and laziest cat around.

I assumed wrong. A few months later, he looked like a ferret with a pinhead and his pre-pubescent psychoses were threatening my sanity. He climbed blinds, curtains, legs, and attacked everything that moved. He screamed all night like a colicky child, he violently attacked me at will, his sleep patterns managed to drive me to the bring of insanity with multiple nights in a row of only a few spotty hours of solid sleep. It was then I knew that I was going to be a really shitty mom for at least the first few yrs. That if I couldn’t handle the antics of a kitten that perhaps someone else should raise my kids for the non-sleeping yrs, if I should even be entitled to the duty.

In the past year that we’ve been together, he’s been posted on Craigslist at least three times, only to lead to me receiving angry email from PETA assholes and a few other people that I can only assume were seeking him out for cat stew. Maybe “This cat is an asshole” wasn’t exactly a selling point. I also sent out mass emails to my company to no avail other than my boss making fun of me constantly for being a cat hag. A friend offered for him to live on her Grandma’s farm in eastern Colorado, where he would most likely face death by coyote. I had him packed in cat carrier, ready to meet my friend’s mom who had said she would gladly schlep him the hour and 45 minutes to a near certain death that would be neither quick or painless. Both of which he probably deserves in his own karmic way.
And I cried. I couldn’t do it.

Maybe it’s the fact that he’s the only constant in my apartment that creates movement and noise and being other than myself. Life is lonely in a one bedroom apartment in Stapleton, aka where the fuck do you live again? So says my human friends.

Maybe it’s the fact that he’s finally turned the one year corner and is starting to resemble something that I may one day refer to more as a “pet” and less as a “monster”.

Or maybe it’s the simple fact that when this animal was no more than 24 hours old, I made a commitment, albeit a misguided one full of dreams of perfection and fat cuddliness and purring and whatever is supposed to be endearing about having a cat as a pet, and that as much as I’ve tried to escape that commitment, much like many commitments I’ve made previously, somewhere in my stubborn determined head, I made the choice to stick it out.

Is it the right choice, the right thing to do? Probably not. I just talked about my cat to a room of strangers for more than a few minutes. That in itself should be enough to convince me that not only have I lost credibility but I’ve probably lost my fucking mind.

Then again, the other day I realized that if this thing lives to be seventeen yrs old, I’ll be 42 when he dies. So if any of you are looking to increase your pet quota, see me after the show. I’ve got a cat that is free to any home.

October.

2010-10-21T21:08:00.003-04:00

It's nearly three wks since I wrote my last entry. And I dont really care.

What I will say is that...in general...the last two yrs of my life have been both humbling and moralizing. I've been humbled in that I no longer really think I'm good at much of anything, besides mediocrity. Which I'm generally okay with. And moralizing...in that I've been forced out of two of my favorite past-times by reasons which I have no control over. One of which is unrestrained debauchery. (God, I miss beer.) The other...well, we'll leave that one to rest on its laurels. I've actually become unintentionally conventionally moral. Who am I again?

What I do know is that I'm still looking...for what I dont know. Which begs the question how do you find something when you dont know what you're looking for? I assume its like meeting a significant other. Which I believe can only offer up the four following scenarios:

a) It's a fit and you stick with it.
b) It's a fit but something is fucked up.
c) It isnt a fit but you stick with it anyways.
d) It's not a fit, and you (or the other) have/has the good judgment to get out.

I also know that "love at first sight" is typically a fallacy. Sucks for me, because I'm pretty prone to it. In all aspects and endeavors. Whether its a job, a city, a dude, or whatever might be raising the eyebrows at the moment. Impulsion. It's a crackalicious addition. I've actually conquered that habit in many ways this year. Not because I've wanted to, might I add.

All of these forced situations, this sequence of events, this attempt at whatever...I feel like it lacks meaning. And meaning can come in many forms. I dont think I need to change the world to invoke it.

I read an amazing quote that went something along the lines of "Instead of living for the answers, live in the questions."

I think I could do that, if all questions were rhetorical.

Rollin, Rollin, Rollin on a River

2010-09-23T23:54:00.000-04:00

Doing laundry blows.

It requires me to be at home. It requires long waiting periods for shit to wash and dry. It requires me to fold it myself. And it requires me to carry all 900 lbs of it back to my apmt from the laundry room. I hate doing laundry. So I only do it every few wks. Basically until my underwear runs out. And sometimes, I'll f-in buy some new underwear just to avoid the process. Shut up. You know you do it too. And if you dont, well, you probably have a washer and dryer in your place of residence, and you can go screw yourself.

I guess it gives me some time to write.

How is my life???????? Hmmm, well, not too bad. I'm still here. Knock on wood. It's Thursday night. And tomorrow I'm taking off for a wkend trip to Durango, Colorado. A place I have never been. And I'm spending the wkend with my buddy Mike. One of my all-time favorite people from college and beyond.

What do I tell you about Mike? Hmm. I could tell you about the summer of 2008 where we lived like three blocks from eachother and pretty much lived at the Stonehouse but dont remember many specifics about that. I could tell you about when he visited me in Boston for St Patty's day, but uhh that's fodder that will not be placed on the interweb. Or I could tell you about how we met, which I really dont remember, probably because we were having such a sweet-ass time.

So I'm excited. Because the Dirsch rules. And we are going to paint Durango colors that the human eye has never even witnessed before.

Other than this. Other than this.

Been thinking about this big country. A few blentries ago I talked about that ol' wanderlust, that ol' thirst arising in my bones. "Get out!" It says, "Go somewhere new."

Once that sets in with me, it's a fierce trial to deny it. So I've started researching some other companies that have similar capabilities to what my current company does, and turns out one of our main sister companies is in Silver Spring, MD, outside of DC. Booyah.

There are some other cool companies as well. One in Tennessee, another in Minne"snow"ta (Thanks but no thanks), a couple in Cali, and then the Taj Mahal that is corporate down in Texas. God knows I love Texans, but Texas...ugh the humid heat...how do people live there...in that god awful thick, thick air. Plus, I dont know how I'd really do in the south. I'm definitely the polar opposite of the southern belle and all they represent. There is also the Chi....god knows there is a part of me that could really love the Chi...if I could make it through a winter...I could love Chicago. With a deep and undying passion, I'm pretty sure.

But looks like I'm checking out the MD and DC companies this winter. We'll see if any other opps arise in the near future. (The Chi...) But my lease in up in March and I'm looking to hit the high road to a new city by next summer.

Big wheels keep on turnin....

Getting back on that pogo stick.

2010-09-20T21:37:00.000-04:00

Summer is coming to a close. Thank God. I've been busy and I dont even know how or why.

I kind of dropped off the comedy planet for a few months. I was jogging today and thinking about it and I came to the conclusion that I needed to take the summer to stop hating myself because I was really on a bender of self-loathing for like pretty much the past year. Maybe even a little longer than that.

Is that too honest? I dont know. My skills of self-deprecation are such an ingrained part of my psyche that it's hard for me to think I deserve anything or could potentially be good at something. Now this is bogus, I'm not an irrational person after all. But maybe my ties to humility and deference border on the pathological side.

Let's go back to the first sentence of the second paragraph. Jogging. I was jogging. I definitely got back into that in the past 6 wks, mostly because I got on a horse and couldn't breathe 5 minutes into an easy ride. Then I played in a polo match and could barely walk for three days. Then I realized that I had become a George Strait song and "Let myself go" and you know, if I have to be alive, I might as well at least have the option to be active. So I signed up for a 5k and whaddya know. I'm slowly but surely becoming an athlete again.

But anyway. Comedy. I have to pick and choose my battles, I know. My job is kind of important to me. I need it for now, that's for sure. I tried to do the comedy 4-5 nights a wk thing and that burnt me out, real quick, but I think I have to get over this silly all-or-nothing attitude that I've adapted over the course of my short-attention-spanned life. I've been pretty consumed with growing up and what it's supposed to mean and it's nothing that I though it would be and everything I never thought that it would. So there's that. I'm learning that maybe this is a one-day-at-a-time kind of deal. That my world doesnt have to be intricately planned, and that I probably shouldnt be so god-damned hard on myself.

Life is moving pretty fast right now. In a strange way. I dont want to blink my eyes and be in my thirties and thinking that I missed an opportunity.

So right now, "that pogo stick" involves getting back into shape, getting back into comedy, and not hating myself.

And for now, I'm gonna watch this thunderstorm. Light some candles. And try to write some jokes for an eve at the Lion's Lair, with some of my fave Denver comics.

Phoneless. Lifeless.

2010-09-04T11:27:00.000-04:00

In recent news, my phone got stolen. STOLEN. Right off my table at the DTC Tavern. I figured there were enough old people and cougars there that no one would need an iPhone I guess, but apparently some asshole did. And I hope that someone steals the iPhone from them, just as they did from me. You fuck. You fucking fuck.

This happened on Wednesday night. I still do not have a working phone. Because I have to go through my corporate ladder to get my phone working again and lucky me, the guy is on vaca that can fix this. However, he has been awesome enough to try and get it all put together while he's on the road so I def own this dude a Starbucks card or something. If he actually does get my old phone reactivated. It doesnt help that the following things have happened/are happening:

-Lindsay Davis got engaged. Huge news. Missed this news b/c phone was gone.
-CU-CSU game is today. Cant figure out what I'm doing. Because I have no phone.
-It's also Davis's birthday. And KARI is driving up from Lubbock. And TUMTUM flew in from Chicago. And something is happening with The COUGAR. And I cant put my damn finger on any of this business. Because my fucking PHONE got stolen.
-My mom thought I died because she doesnt check her email. And I did send her an email. But apparently old people dont check that. But her facebook post was pretty priceless.

I lost/broke my phone in college a few times. But I always had roommates and other people around me to compensate. Here, I have two cats. And although I wish they got cell reception, unfortunately they do not. The timing on this couldnt be more excellent. Three hours till gametime. I'm laying in bed.

In other news, I wish the following were "diet" foods or foods without gluten: extra sharp cheddar cheese, salami and other charcuterie, Nerds, potatoes of all kinds, egg yolks, red velvet cake, pizza, delicious bread, regular pasta esp. delicious mac and cheese. I could go on and on. Damn you, gluten intolerance. And damn you past two years of sedentary lifestyle. Time to get off my ass apparently. Good thing my knees are as arthritic as a 90 yr olds. Did I play NFL football in a past life? Prob.

Ahhh frustrations. Frustrations. You rack my brain with your sweet insensitivities.

What else? Ah yes. I did find out that I will be in my BRAIN DRAIN rotation at work until NOVEMBER 1st. Which makes me want to creatively die. As it has killed any creativity that once used to pulse through my brain like crackling wildfire. Being on a computer all day really does nothing for my will to live, and to experience TWO MORE MONTHS of it?? TWO MORE?? Fuck my life. That's eight months of this bullshit. World, I cant deal with that. I need something to save me from this technological and numerical abyss. Fuck.

If hope were a thing I believed in, my phone will be working by noon. Extra sharp cheddar cheese will become deliciously calorie-free. And my superiors will see that they are killing me in this position. Fingers crossed.

Attend N'Sync opening for Backstreet Boys? Over my dead body.

2010-08-05T22:55:00.000-04:00

I got some strange news today that I havent been able to confirm, but there is a Backstreet Boys tour currently going on. And the word on the street is that N'Sync is going to join them.

Wait a FUCKING second.

Now, for any pop music lover who went to high school in the late nineties, there were two groups. As dance-off angry as the Jets and the Sharks, as divided as schools before desegregation, and as eager to wear their colors as Crips and Bloods...were the N'Sync fans and the Backstreet Boys fans.

I was a die-hard N'Sync fan. I owned every cd. Loved JT's weird curly blond fro and had mini-crushes on everyone except Chris (Gnarly). Yeah, I even liked Joey Fat-one and the deep-in-the-closet Lance Bass. I had the t-shirts, the paraphernalia, I went to the concerts. I lived, breathed, died for N'Sync. Even my dad loved N'Sync. When I got my paycheck from the sub joint I worked at every Friday, I listened to the song "Just got paid". When I was done with that crush from the rival high school, I said "Bye Bye Bye" right after he finished "Tearin up my heart". And when I made out with that weird guy on homecoming, it was all "No Strings Attached". I even listened to Britney Spears because she was a goddamn ally AND a role model. Yeah. I said it. And you know what? N'Sync was fucking harsh.

Look, I might have secretly known all the words to Backstreet Boys songs. I might have even thought Nick Carter was kind of hot for an obviously white trash d-bag. (This notion was seriously validated after watching a few episodes of House of Carter. Beyond ridic.) But I told no one. I stood by my band. And verbally abused anyone who voiced anything ill of my five singing man treasures or opted to wear a Backstreet Boys t-shirt in what I deemed to be N'Sync domain. Which was basically anything with 20 yards of me.

And now here I am. More than a decade later.

Just as an old racist can suddenly see the gray area between black and white, I too have learned to like the Backstreet Boys. I identify with the melancholic "Show me the meaning of being lonely". I like to ask people the same questions asked in "Everybody". (There are four, if you didn't know.) And one day I hope that I too can be "Larger than life".

But this is a marriage of music that has gone too far. A concert...featuring both? Ludicrous. Who would open for whom? Would my N'Sync boys stoop down to the level of opening for the Backstreet Boys? I have an ominous feeling that is how it would go down. I throw up in my mouth a bit at the thought. If we are measuring by success post-boy band, clearly JT has everyone trumped. Therefore, shouldn't N'Sync be the opener? And clearly, N'Sync had many more fans. And in my opinion, many more attractive and intelligent fans as white trash America clearly erred towards the side of the Backstreet Boys.

Would I go to this concert? Only if the Backstreet Boys opened for N'Sync. Even then it's murky waters. If I could say something to the people planning this tour, before you go ahead and open up old wounds and rivalries, consider the consequences of your actions. Consider the protest and widespread anguish that may occur. Consider this picture:

You really think these guys should be the headlining act? Yeah. I didn't fucking think so.

Near Death Experience. Err more near TO death experience?

2010-08-05T02:12:00.003-04:00

Tonight, I went to my newly-branded fave show in Denver. I cant say that it's my fave comedy show because it is in fact storytelling. It does occasionally incorporate comedy but there is a difference in the room, the rapt attention, the chance that the audience gives the performer that just doesn't necessarily exist in the same way that it might in a comedy room.

No, in this room, the attention span is not moving from laugh to laugh but from thought to thought, word to word. There is a beautiful patience behind the suspense of the moment. It bites onto the most ancient form of communication and entertainment known by our species and rips into it with gusto, and...well, maybe I'm a sentimentalist. But if I could spend the rest of my life listening to fabulous storytellers, I might die happy.

Perhaps it was growing up in a home where storytelling was encouraged and reading was paramount. I dont know. But tonight the theme was near death experience, and it took my own mind to the experiences that I found myself the closest to death.

There was the night, last year, in my cousin's house, where in the midst of a deep sleep, I was awakened by what I thought was the hot breathe of a dog in my face. Upon coming to, I realized I was looking directly into the blank face of a faintly glowing green figure. On all fours. The hot breathe continued. I pinched the shit out of myself. And the figure turned to the ground and crawled its creepy fucking ass through the door of my room. Through it. Through the damned door.

You can think that I'm bullshitting you. I bullshit you not. I rolled over, hyperventilating. Called my mom super late night in hysterics. Forced myself to run out of the room. And slept my terrified ass on my cousin's couch in the upstairs living room. She had told me that I was "always welcome to sleep upstairs. No questions asked." I guess I should have asked some questions.

There was the day walking along the lakeside path of Camp Wayne. When, looking out onto the lake through the trees of the path, I saw a young man with his tanned back turned towards me. He was wearing blue swimming trunks. And he was walking on the water of the lake. Yeah. On it. I turned away. Looked at the concrete. Looked back through the trees. On he walked. I did it again. And the third time he was gone.

I had a hippie-ish camp director who would be down with the spiritual shit so I asked him if anyone had died in our lake, explaining the strange thing that I had seen. Yes, he said. Exactly 25 years that summer, a polish boy who worked in the kitchen on boys' side had gotten drunk and drowned in the lake. While swimming. In just his swimming trunks.

Fuck. This was like sixth sense shit, right?

And then there was the dream I had towards the end of my college career. I walked into a room. It was a concrete-type room and there were two chairs. I sat in one chair. My father walked in the other door and sat in the chair across from me. I gushed to him about my life, about graduating from college, and the dreams I had in front of me. The unknowns of my future. The hardships of my life, the triumphs, everything that I could think of to tell him. He gave me his advice, touted his own pride, and too soon the dream came to a close. It's the only dream I've had involving my dad that has been so clear, so vivid. This November, it will be eleven years since he died from cancer.

And there are many stories that I could say that I almost died. Falls from horses. Falling asleep at the wheel of my old truck. Joining corporate America much to the chagrin of my conscience. Infantile asthma. And just being a complete dumbass. There are people who have made mistakes, simple mistakes, that arent here today because of those. I've made complex mistakes and I've managed to walk out unscathed so far. I'm lucky, I guess.

And that's where I'm gonna leave it.

There it is....that feeling again...

2010-08-02T01:23:00.004-04:00

It's been awhile since I've written on this side of my internet life so I figured I'd go Rent with it and "No Day but Today" the shit out of this blog.

I learned something about myself this afternoon. And it's that I wont leave my apartment when the fire alarm goes off because in my mind it's just some a-hole kid pulling levers and forcing me out of my cat cove. Now, I did go out in the hallway to see if there was smoke or screaming people. There were neither. And I was right. A-hole kids. I worried for a second when I saw the firemen out of the hall window but they looked bored and a little irritated so I retreated and put my headphones back on, and went back to my life of nothings and somethings.

But if there had been actually been an emergency, I would have been SOL most likely. And really, The Wiz would be most SOL. Because he retreated to the furthest corner beneath my bed, vehemently refusing to come out. Oh well. In my book, cats are irreplaceable in that they shouldn't be replaced and if that took me down to just Tiny, who is technically not my own cat, I wouldn't mind. Sorry Wiz.

I'm starting to get that feeling in the marrow of my bones. That wandering, need-for-adventure, do something weird kind of feeling. I never realized how much I like city life until I lived on the outskirts of Boston. I wouldn't mind getting down to Texas for awhile, but with a little chemical help I might make it more happily through an east coast winter and there's something about that side of the country that is magnetic. And then there's the other side. Northern Cali. Seattle. Vancouver. Part of me kind of just wants to live everywhere.

Wanderlust is a violent force in my blood. I think I was a train-hopping hobo in a previous life, living on the run and seeing the frontier from a boxcar.

Like The Boxcar Children. One of my favorite book series as a little kid. I completed it in the first grade, no joke. Why were those little kids living on a train anyway? I have no idea. Wait...does that guy have my eyes? I think yes.

But yeah, the clock is ticking. Time to go...time to go...time to go. But the mind is saying...um no you cant. No you cant. No you cant.

And the other part is thinking, "Oh girl, you just prob need a vaca. To somewhere you hasn't been yet. Get there, girl. Get gone for a wkend!" This voice is prob the one I should pay attention to.

We shall see.

Chicken and lime soup...plus crazy talk

2010-07-20T22:47:00.000-04:00

Yesterday was a bad day. Let's move past yesterday.

And start with today, where it was pretty average until I locked my keys in my car and there is really nothing more infuriating than paying $80 for a lapse in short-term memory and the quick instinct of locking my car before I shut the door. It's one of my quicker instincts. Some people have cat reflexes...me, I tend towards the way of the turtle.

But did I let that ruin my day? No. No, I didnt. Well, momentarily I did. But then I came home and made a ridiculous chicken and lime soup that solved the bad day dilemma. There's also something about wielding a knife for a significant amount of time that makes me happy. And onions were the only thing that made me cry today so I'm moving on up in the world of mental health.

Here's the recipe for the soup: home shredded chicken, chicken broth, diced tomatoes, a shitload of garlic, a minced onion, jalapenos thinly sliced, fresh lime juice...precook the garlic onions and chicken. Shred the chicken. Boil everything together. Then mix in chopped cilantro and add salt to taste. Then prepare to wet your pants. It's pants-wetting good. And if you want to be cool like me, fry up some corn tortillas in oil with salt, slice those bad bays, and BOOM. You just made your own tortilla strips for a little mixin' into the soup. Rachel Ray aint got nothing on this shit.

If any of you cook that soup in the way I just told you to, I'll give you a high five. And now I'm mad at myself for not taking a pic because it was pretty gorgeous upon initial serving. But this isnt a food blog. It's worse than that. So I def dont care.

Wow. This is boring.

One of the young kids at work (by young I mean early twenties, now that I'm mid twenties I feel like anyone under 25 is a kid. Fair enough, I think) Where was I? One of the young kids at work intro'd me to the iPhone app Words with Friends and oh my god. Addicted. It's scrabble, with pretty much the universe of the iPhone. And I cant help but be in love. A word game. An interactive word game. Sigh. It's beautiful. And if you have it, mah name is NiCoolio23 and I'm a formidable opponent, my friends. But gracious. I promise.

What else? Besides soup and time-wasting games? Dont know really. I've got a lot on my plate if I look at things one way and not that much if I look at it the other way. So I'm just trying to keep my shit together and stay out of that padded room, if ya know what I'm saying.

But I do share an apartment with two cats, so it's pretty much the same label. Fucking nuts.

That's it.

It's Monday morning. Which means...

2010-07-19T10:15:00.000-04:00

Favorite Things of the Moment

2010-07-12T00:32:00.000-04:00

I've been in a profoundly terrible mood today, brought on by whatever bug I've been fighting since last night. But through the dehydration and the dry heaves, I've decided to write about my current favorite things, the things that are good in life right now...it's a stretch. Let's see how this goes:

1. The Wizard. No doubt, me and the Wiz have had our moments. His sleep schedule strongly conflicted with mine for many months and my sister did me the favor of taking him over as he started to grow out of that phase. Now he's back in my house plus another by the name of Tiny, and he isnt keeping me up anymore and he IS being really bizarre and hilarious.

He really does have devil eyes. This all being said, I'd still rather have a dog. Just for clarity.

2. My sister's couch. In my sister's exodus to LA, I was given her amazing couch and chair for my apartment. This couch is hands down one of the best to ever exist on the planet. This makes it a most-favorite coupled with a least favorite. Because once you get into the couch it's damn near impossible to find your way out. I've been wrapped in it's amazingness pretty much all day, and I cant say I regret it.

3. Heather McDonald is coming next wkend. And I am REALLY excited to see her. She is frickin' hilarious and def one of my fave female comics. Hooray for that!

4. Air conditioning. Fuckin' right. Having air conditioning in my living space is something that hasn't happened since God knows when. And I dont give an F if Excel puts me in the higher electricity bracket. I live on the fourth floor and that little box is my lifeline to comfort.

5. Old people shit. Yeah, maybe I did light candles and watch It's Complicated tonight. But who can say no to Alec Baldwin, Meryl Streep, AND Steve Martin?? I have a serious crush on Baldwin, by the way. I don't care how crazy he is. As long as he doesnt go Mel Gibson on me, I could care less. Which leads me to...

6. Alec Baldwin. For the win:

Holy god. Who wears sweaters underneath button-downs? Ok, aside from the chest hair thing, I'm all for it. The man is 52 years old, exactly twice my age, and I'm sweating the goods. A) What's wrong with me? B) Nothing at all. He's amazing.

Aside from all of that, I pretty much got nothin'. Headed to bed. With dreams of a Baldwin in my head. Hmmm...it feels kind of creepy to say that...oh well.

Wait...what?

2010-07-06T22:14:00.000-04:00

After ingesting my take of the daily news, I have this to say: I dont think Lindsay Lohan is as awful or addicted or whatever as everyone else does. And I still think Britney Spears is one crazy and awesome weirdo. I wouldnt call myself a "fan" of either one of them. But if I were to be in the same room with said famed ones, there would be no disapproving glares, only approving ones. Sorry about your jail sentence, LiLo. I'm sure you'll be in there for less than 48 hours anyway. You fame whores get away with everything.

I think I have a minor case of agoraphobia, but only upon coming home from work. Which is what makes it minor, I think.

And it's a good thing I'm not parthophobic, since I hang around so many male comedians.

Anyway.

I suck sometimes. Out of straws mostly. That's pretty much the only time actually.

What else?

I hate being in limbo. And doing it. It bothers my back. But I'm there right now in a big way. It drives me mental. I'm locked into the suspense of my own life. How torturous is that?!

I just want to know what's next. I've taken the steps. I've compiled the skills. I've followed up and followed through. And the rest of my life feels like its on friggin hold. Maybe because I put it there. But that's neither here nor...there.

Wow. This is ADD'd out to the maximum.

Annnnnnnnnnnnnnnnd...I'm spent.

No rest for the weary.

2010-07-05T22:25:00.001-04:00

It's July 5th, 2010.

And it's nearing the end of my first four days off since Christmas. I'd like to say that I'm well-rested and ready to go for the work wk but the case is that there is not enough "rest" that could prepare me for the current rotational position that I'm in. I was hoping that maybe this wkend would put a dent in my loathing. I was wrong. I really hate it.

I hung out with my favorite ginger whom the majority of readers may know as the Cougar and a blonde New Yorker who goes by the name of Leni for my 4th of July wkend. The place was a farm in Wellington, CO. The situation: A sketchy one. Storms reaked havoc on the northern area of Colorado and this amazing moment was born out of the chaos:

Yeah. That would be the most awesome double rainbow I've ever seen.

Sketchiness prevailed and it involved four-wheeling, a large goat, lost dogs, a lot of wine, illegal explosions, and a voluntary breathalyzer that proved I was sober enough to be driving.

I'll leave it at that.

Otherwise, I'm skating by. My sister left this wkend for LA and I'm both heartbroken and excited. This closely followed the exodus of my best friend who I shall call "Liv" who also took someone I dearly love and miss by the name of "Boca". With friends scattered all over this state from Boulder to Littleton to Fort Collins, my apartment in Stapleton is starting to feel like a bad idea yet simultaneously feeling more like home than it has since I moved in. It's a rough go, being in an old town in new circumstances, and I'm trying to figure it out while wallowing through the shitty aspects of my job. I moved here to avoid starting over again and surprisingly enough, that is pretty much exactly what I got.

But on the bright side, there are things in the future that are looking to be amazing opportunities. And I'm holding my breathe and counting the minutes until I can set those opportunities into stone.

Until then, we'll see.

And I shall leave you with my fave iPhone pic of the wkend, starring Senor Snowball Pantalones....

Born to be Mild

2010-06-30T23:55:00.001-04:00

So. Last night, I made up my mind. I was going to the Squire. And then I started getting ready. And went to bed.

Nice job, self.

I was surprised to see that June has 12 entries so far. Thirteen if you include this one. I think for lack of everything else going on in my life, I'm trying to spur some sort of creativity until a phase of my life that is a little more time-friendly opens up.

But then again, its not that I dont have the time technically. I have some time. But that time is usually spent feeling exhausted and trying to figure out how to better my circumstances as well as maintaining some level of self-preservation.

I bought a patchouli-scented candle on accident. I lit it and kind of liked the smell. On a scale of 1-10, my self-loathing increased by a .3 just for that.

The nice thing about becoming a recluse is that now I have two cats to hang out with. (Up a solid 1.2 for that one)

What else? The pool saga continues tonight. As a group of young urban teenagers are teaching a girl to swim in the pool, and I can hear her choking on water and screaming that she cant do it. I think we all know what I mean by urban..which is "within Denver city limits". Because that's where I live.

Which was surprise to me. Since I live past Park Hill, I would assume that this is Aurora. Or as I like to call it "The Whole Foods desert". Because the closest Whole Foods is like 225 and Hampden and that really puts a cramp on my Whole Foods sushi habit. But in other news, there are like 25 Popeyes within a two mile radius. Like I said. Urban.

Not knowing how to swim. That makes me sad for people. It's like people who have never gotten on an airplane. Or people who cant read. When I was in high school, an Arvada cop pulled a man over who had been driving without a license for 20 yrs because he couldnt pass the written exam. He had never been pulled over. The cop didnt give him a ticket and on his off-duty hours he taught the man how to read. Eventually, the man passed the written test and got his drivers license thanks to the police officer's dedication.

I always liked that story. Obviously. It's stuck with me for nearly ten yrs.

I feel like normal people have people to go home to. And that I have this blog. Unfortunately, I missed the normal train a long, long time ago.

Yay for me.

Actually, I just do this to prove my literacy. In your face, non-readers! Even though this is probably just hieroglyphics to you guys anyway...

Shit.

Well, this entry hasn't been offensive at all.

I wanna go ow-----ouuuutttttt tonight

2010-06-29T22:03:00.000-04:00

That was my attempt at recreating a Rent song via blog title...did it work??

I'm debating with myself currently on whether I would like to go to the Squire tonight. It's a comedy show that begins at 11 and ends at 2. Of course, I dont stay for the whole thing because I'm a forced early riser. Fuck. I'm not meant for this lifestyle.

Current yes's on this matter: I'm really not that tired. For me, on a Tuesday, major bonus. I also havent been to the Squire in awhile, and I like to go to there. I also havent been doing the comedy thing for awhile, went to the Lair last night, but in general have been keeping everything lowkey. Out of the basic need for self-preservation.

Current no's: Well, I accidentally ingested a huge piece of really spicy garlic. So that doesnt bode well. I dont really want to shower. But I should. But wait...it is the Squire. So really, might be unnecessary. Also, I'm a geezer in the making and going to bed sounds like a decent plan.

I guess I'm going. Will I perform? Ehhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, we'll see. I'm at a loss for material I like right now. The suckage of my work life is really killing my creativity. It's a poor excuse, but valid. I need a catalyst.

Anything else? Third night in a row that the pool is retardedly full of kids. I'm kind of regretting the pool side thing now.

Anything beyond that?? Argh. I dunno. Just trying to keep my nose on the grindstone with my mind on the prize. Whatever the hell that is.

And...I'm done.

Event Horizon

2010-06-28T21:01:00.000-04:00

Never look down to test the ground before taking your next step; only he who keeps his eye fixed on the far horizon will find the right road.-Dag Hammarskjold

Hey Dag, I hope you have fun following that line of thought when you fall into an orifice of the land. Yeah, I said orifice. Get over it.

You got it all wrong, bro. It's gotta be a balance. You gotta watch the ground when the going is tricky, and watch the horizon to keep everything in line. Yeah. I'm a wise sage. Get in line for advice because I'm dishing it out by the earful, peeps.

There is a child screaming outside. As I live poolside, I prob should have thought about this when I moved in. Now, I dont mind children playing. I've worked with kids long enough that I either enjoy the laughter and weird things they say or I am pretty much immune to the noise. But screaming?? Oh hell no. I wouldn't tolerate screaming for a period of more than 5 seconds and even that is too long. Even hurt kids dont need to scream. And a tantrum? Forget about it. It sounds like this particular child is doing both. And the camp counselor within me wants to go have a discussion with that kid and find him a nice warm place in T.O. until he calms down. I know. I'm so harsh.

I now live in Cat City. I've gone from zero cats to two of them in a matter of 24 hours as the sis is packed and ready to head off to Cali for the magical world of fashion design. So far, not awful. I give myself two wks till the sanity breaks.

I've been cooking. Like really cooking. I made a killer quinoa-something tonight. I didnt know what the hell to do with it, and Bon Appetit was there for the save. Last night me and the momster watched movies and f-ing cooked it up again. We made peach-jalapeno chicken and red wine vinegar potato salad. Amazingly delish. I am now starting to love my apartment as it has turned into a nest that has comfortable written all over it. In fact, I kind of dont want to leave it. At all. I'll force myself though. No worries.

Back to the initial topic. I've never been a nose-to-the-grindstone kinda gal. I've been working on it though. Like the Dagster, I have always wanted to watch the horizon for where I needed to go. After all, it's easier to create a goal than follow-through. People say in order to make a goal happen you have to write it down. I disagree. Because I write all the time and I've written down millions of goals, from "Never drinking again" to "Straight A's this semester!" and believe me, I've failed on both notes.

So lately, I dont know what has changed. Whether its my general mentality, the chemistry of my brain, the influx of sunshine and the beginnings of a summer tan. I really dont know. But what I do know is that I'm relishing it while it lasts.

I've also felt really guilty lately about not keeping up my comedy blog. Goal of the week: Get back on that pogo stick.

I wrote it down. Let's see about the follow through.

The bird bird bird. Bird is the word.

2010-06-26T19:58:00.000-04:00

So. My apartment is now furnished. Nearly 7 months later. It's weird that I have been here for that amount of time. Interestingly enough, that might be the longest that I have lived anywhere since going to college.

I'm a bit of a nomad, if that statistic surprises you. I was chastised today by my mother who says that I need to start "nesting". Well, excuse me, but I didn't realize that I was a bird.

I did get my sister's couches. Which are beyond comfortable. Some more stuff for my kitchen. And then I stumbled across a moving sale in which I scored some sweet crap to sweeten up the nest. Pictures, candles, typical girl shit that is beyond my realm of mentality to spend more than $5 on per item. Which interestingly enough was the going rate at the moving sale.

Do you ever have days where you just annoy yourself? Yeah. I'm there right now. I might take a nap to avoid myself for awhile.

What else? I'm slowly creeping towards the "growing up" phase. Reluctantly, but I do feel it coming on. I hope I never complete the leap. But one of these days I'll look in the mirror and be a melting rendition of who I am now, so maybe I should be living it up a little more.

Speaking of growing up, I just learned that my AmeriCorps best friend just got married to her awesome b/f in Vegas...you sneaky devils! How dare you do this without me?!? Just kidding...love you Timmy and Michelley. :)

Ok. Nap time to avoid myself for awhile.

Work clothes

2010-06-25T00:28:00.000-04:00

They say to dress for the job you want. If this is true, I dress to be unemployed. Pretty much everyday. Which coincidentally is the way a lot of people at my place of employment dress. But I did get a kick out of an email I got today suggesting that the associates should wear "nice clothes" next wk because important execs are coming into town.

I do occasionally wear nice clothes and take the time to tame my wild unruly mane; however, this does become an issue. Because people say shit along these lines:

Like "Oh Nicole, you clean up well!" Why, thank you? I think?

Or "You look nice today. Do you have an interview somewhere else?" Um. I wish.

Or "Your hair looks nice. You know you have a really nice smile too. I really like when you wear a dress. I mean, you look really, really great. Can we hang out sometime? Like tonight maybe?" But that's just usually Kimmo trying to make me feel all sorts of uncomfortable. Damn you Kim! Damn you!

Yeah. Work is insane. Especially since Kim and I figured out a new game that involves throwing a bag of fruit snacks around my office. I'm going to build a points system around this. It's really the only thing I'm looking forward to tomorrow.

For those of you who dont know Kim, she's my work best friend. For those of you who dont know me, I have 9 million best friends. You can each have your own personal label if you would like. Best friends are the BEST!

Anyway. Before someone interprets this as anything but a joke and calls the President of my company to inform him that I am joking, which is what I pretty much do, (Um I joke), UHH THIS IS A JOKE. Kim is NOT sexually harassing me. And if she was, believe me, I wouldn't take it.

Yeesh.

Alright. 10:30. Time to attack the sack. Which in my mind means go to bed. I'm not sure how anyone will actually interpret that.

10 minutes of me

2010-06-23T21:02:00.000-04:00

Here I go, here I go, here I go. Again, girls what's my weakness?

Zen. Ok then!

Yeah, I've got ten minutes before I go to yoga SO I decided to write it up in the ol' blogosphere. As the last thing I have writ was a tribute and how booooring is that.

Things are looking up. Why? Because I'm giving myself deadlines and as much as deadlines suck, they serve a purpose and that's to get my ass in gear. Because the last person I want to be is one of those bleary-eyed self-defeating dick-offs that "accept" their circumstances and wither in their own vat of self-pity. It's not that I dont have the ability to do that, I think I could very easily succumb to the numbness of acceptance; however, I owe more to this lifetime than to waste it away not doing something that I care about.

I really want to get a bicycle. If any of you have a bicycle sitting around in a garage somewhere, holla. Perhaps I will make you a cauldron of my delicious soup and we can trade. Yeah, I made delicious soup this wk. Dont be too jealous. Or BE too jealous. Your choice. All you have to do is ask. I have plenty.

What else, my sweets? The upcoming wkend is that of brewfest traditionally. I'm boycotting because the city of FoCo completely fucked the situation. The beautiful situation. And how DARE I miss last year. How dare I. The last hoorah, as if I could have known. Although the gluten thing does get in the way of brewfest on its own. Gluten intolerance. What a bitch.

I took the wk off from comedy after a fun and stellar time in the New Faces contest last Wed. I worked really hard up to that point and my brain needed the escape. Looking forward to upping the ante over the next few months. We've got a great group of lady comics in D-town and we're organizing to take on the scene. It's gonna be fun. Real fun. And funny. Beyond funny.

Ok, I believe that's close to my ten minutes. Go forth. Be brave. And I will be gettng bendier.

Woop woop.

Sister's mantra? Walk straight, and the world will move around you.

2010-06-17T23:22:00.002-04:00

My sister leaves for school in TWO WEEKS from today. I say this with a tear rolling down my cheek. I've always loved my sister, for better or worse. But in the past few months I feel in many ways that we're the closest we've ever been. And the irony of distance, even looming distance, is that it often ties you to the ones you love far more than proximity ever will.

Let me tell you about my sister.

She's infinitely talented. A sassy queen. (Or shall we say "Qui'n"?) A raging bitch. A jaded youth. An art-eest. As she would say. She's as high maintenance as they come with a biting sarcasm that would put even the most hardened individual on their heels. Mom and I plan on writing her future husband a manual. Here are some of the things it would say:

1. Blood sugar levels. Always make sure that Jacqui eats every three-five hours. If not, her excuse of hypoglycemia turns her typically sardonic smile into a wrath that will smite your soul and dissolve any momentary happiness. I would suggest carrying a granola bar at all times. Or better yet, a tranquilizer.

2. The cold look of death. You'll know this look by the raised eyebrows, the pursed lips, and the dilated pupils. Do not say anything. Do not move. Unfortunately, she is more velociraptor than T-rex, so stillness wont necessarily save you here. But this is not the time to a) try to calm her down or b) be within 50ft of her. I would suggest a running start and a strong will to live.

3. Do not eat anything off of her plate. Jacqui may not look like an eater --a quality I strongly covet as we share full bloodlines-- but she is fiercely protective of her food. And drink. If any extremities come within mouth distance, you will most likely lose them. Or be infinitely embarrassed when she freaks the fuck out in front of company. That last french fry really does mean the world to her.

4. The fish, bird, and moth clause. My sister does not like fish or birds. As a matter of fact, she hates them, as she once told me the following:

I hate birds and fish.-Seester
Why.-Me
Because I dont trust anything that can fly or breathe underwater.-Seester

She doesnt swim in the ocean. She doesnt go near birds. And she refuses to eat lobster as she thinks they "Look like giant bugs."

And moths. Ok. This is how bad it is. I was working, at my corporate job, when I received a call in the early afternoon. Requesting that I drive from my workplace in Aurora to her apartment in the Highlands to get a moth out of the house. I wish I were joking. But you just cant make that up.

Four things. That's pretty good. Now on to the sap.

I'm proud of my sister. Her rise through the fashion ranks of Denver has been swift and inspiring. She's the most stubborn person I've ever met. And simultaneously the most genuine. If she's pissed, she's pissed. If she's happy, she's smiling. If things are hard, she bites her lip and buckles in. And she never gives up. Her talent is innate and further molded by a work ethic that I definitely dont have. Los Angeles is a town for brass balls. My sister's balls...well, they're platinum.

Go chase your dreams, kid. Going to school at FIDM is one of the biggest commitments you've made. Take 'em by the tits. You got this.

Love you, seester. Keep walking straight.

What my life has come to.

2010-06-17T18:13:00.002-04:00

As I live in a world of cubicles and shared office space, I have succumbed to a ritual among my work peers that I take no pride in whatsoever. Every day, we send eachother various pictures from the website http://icanhascheeseburger.com.

Yeah. LOLcats.

When it first came out in college, I used to blast this in a way that was unbelievable. I hated it with a passion. But as I am now on the latter half of my twenties I guess I am just buckling down for the cat infestation of my future. And I thought I would share with you guys some of my favorites from my work computer. Because it's been a long and boring day. And really, I write in a blog. Any dignity that I ever had was lost long, long ago.

And that, my friends, is Corporate 'Merica at its finest. Bringing you the time-wasting blues since stealing the souls of hopeless college graduates across this merciless land.

And...drumroll please...for my favorite of the bunch...

Ok. Back to work.

Nostalgia

2010-06-17T01:31:00.000-04:00

It sounds like a small country in eastern Europe. But it's not.

I have an obscenely powerful long-term memory. So obscenely powerful that I'm pretty sure it steals a lot of the function away from my short-term memory. Which is horrifically poor. If you've ever asked me to do something ever, you probably know this about me.

My mom asked me once what my earliest memory was. I said that I remembered being in the yard, holding a dandelion with a bumblebee on it, letting the bumblebee crawl onto my finger, then having it sting me and watching her run out of a white house towards me while I screamed.

She looked at me with mild-to-moderate disbelief and says "Do you know how old you were when that happened?" Nope. I said. Maybe four.

Eighteen months. I was eighteen months old. And that white house was the first house I ever lived in. They moved out before I turned two.

So basically I'm creepy. Because I will remember things about people that they wont even remember about themselves and then they're like "Uh, how do YOU remember that?" and I'm like "Uhh, I dont really have a good answer for you." And I remember nearly everything about myself that most people are gifted reprieve from in their own forgetfulness. I find that I can very easily relive a moment in a very real and often unnerving way.

I've been living in my memories lately. Which is sometimes a beautiful, cleansing thing but oftentimes a serious defeat of the present.

The new goal is to keep the balance towards beautiful and cleansing. With rare moments of defeatism.

I'm coining that. I'm pretty much the next Dr Phil.

So not a real doctor. And pretty much irrelevant. Woot to that.

Things currently making me happy

2010-06-14T20:54:00.001-04:00

I used to do a lot of these "things" entries back in the day. In light of the fact that I've been kind of a Debbie Downer, I figured I'd highlight the good stuff in my life.

1. The sun is back out. This is not just good, not just great, but grood. A hybrid of the two. I love the big blue Colorado sky, and as much as I enjoy the good t-storm, I prefer the kind that are fleeting and not making me question whether or not I'm going to be swept off to Oz or at the very least the eastern plains. I shudder at the thought. Welcome back, sunshine. My psyche has missed you.

2. I have ingredients to make soup. Now this might not seem very exciting, but knowing that I can make soup anytime is kind of awesome. Soup in general makes me happy, and I enjoy perfecting the many different variations. Mmmm. Soup.

3. Three. Three. I've drawn a blank. Two is good for now I think. Better than none.

What else is going on in my life? Well, the quarter-life crisis is more the situation, less the crisis. That is actually good news. Except my situation doesn't have rock hard abs or drink jager...

Speaking of jager, I went through some ol' pics of college days past earlier today. My heart definitely ached for old times as I looked through pics of summer camp, polo, bizarre theme parties, holidays, Denver bars, Switza, and whatever other random shit we all got ourselves into. Life was a celebration of anything and everything for six years straight. We celebrated just because it was friday night. That's an amazing kind of freedom.

It's funny to me that when I talk about those years with people, especially older people, they say you only remember the good times, you don't remember how difficult it was.

But in my mind, I wonder if I would want it any other way. Give me the memories of the good times. I have enough of the hard ones that I've had to harbor. If the good ones are standing out, that's an accomplishment in its own right.

Here's to the number three on my list: collegiate memories. We had a good fucking time, didn't we?

Cheers to that, lovies!

Disappearing act

2010-06-14T01:21:00.000-04:00

Note to self: Opening a comedy set with a joke about a horrible pornographic practice does not set a great vibe for the remainder of your time. Point taken. Wont do it again. Thank you, open mics. For all the lessons you have to teach me.

What else? Well, I haven't been writing in general. The allergy season descended upon me with a fierceness like I've never experienced last wk. It came bearing gifts of asthma and flu-like symptoms and exhaustion and anything else it could muster up. Which brings me to the low point of loathing even my own biological responses. Man. What a bummer.

It's been a weird weekend here in Colorado. Of course, for the two days I don't have to work, it rains like a mo. Drops thirty degrees. And basically laughs in my face.

To be honest though, not a weird wkend in a bad day. A turn to positive town? Yeah, I know. Pretty amazing. There have been some cool t-storms. Kimmo and I went tornado chasing on Friday. On Saturday I hung out with Leni and the Cougar in Fort Collins, which was amazing. The clouds have been pretty unbelievable. And I cleaned my entire apartment and its looking goooood. Maybe I'll invite real people over here one of these days. My little hermitage. With pretty much no furniture. And the unfortunate location of Stapleton. I should move.

I think I really could be a hermit and be okay with it. Like not like an angry hermit like Kaczynski status. But like a peaceful hermit that like had a pet deer and knew the birds in my little woodsy cove by name. I could have a garden and a cool hound dog named Ol' Bones as my companion. I'd maybe own a mule named Benny Boy who would be my only source of transportation. I'd write people letters that sounded borderline crazy but in a cute way. And everyone could refer to me as the one who "lost it" but really I'd have found it, I think. I just couldnt do it without hot water....so if thats not available, I guess I'll have to stick around in civilization for awhile. I loves my showers.

And with that I need to time warp into tomorrow morning, because someone told me that time is just a construct of consciousness. Therefore, when I sleep, I am technically time warping. Or something else that I dont understand.

Night, bloggy.

Ed Hardy and Prairie Dogs

2010-06-03T20:36:00.001-04:00

Um. FREAKIN AWESOME!

Do you SEE what that is? Do you SEE it? It's an Ed Hardy window thingy for your car. For your CAR!

As if you couldn't get enough of Ed Hardy wrapping his overpriced fake tattoos in high end cotton all around your bulging muscles and your fake tits, you have placed him in the windshield of your Cadillac to protect your red leather seats and dash from sun damage.

Fuck yes.

Ed Hardy should have been a Wal-Mart line. Anyone else agree with me? Yeah, I thought you did.

My life is comedy-saturated at the moment. I've attended shows 5 of the past 6 nights. Multiple shows on some of these nights. Seriously. I actually managed to get some sleep last night. This morning, I felt normal and energized and I could actually work.

Speaking of work, if you look closely at the background of that pic, you can see the gorgeous surroundings of the industrial area that I work in. Every day it takes my breath away. Usually because of all the fumes from the semis. Or the warpath of prairie dog roadkill that I have to face on my drive to and from work.

I'm starting to believe that no animal can really be THAT stupid. Imagine you're a prairie dog. Over the course of your short, pointless rodent life, you've seen multiple friends, lovers, and most likely close relatives die by Firestone tire. And yet, you think that perhaps your little legs are faster. That you can beat the Mac truck barreling down that road. That you can make it!

Well, you fucking cant. And when I have to watch you drag your half-smashed body to the side of the road to die, it really bothers me and ruins a good hour of my day. If rats can learn how to play basketball, I'm pretty sure you can learn that crossing the road is a bad fucking idea.

On the other hand, I am never more disturbed than by the driver who barrels through animals like it's a joyous occasion. I once saw an Acura speed up and take out a family of raccoons crossing the road, when they had ample time to slow down and let the cute little family with five or six little babies finish crossing the road. I was 17 yrs old, and it was incredibly traumatizing. I cried for days about that one. Sick fucks. So I share equal anger with the asshole that could stop and doesn't as for the dumbshit prairie dog that doesn't stop and should.

Well, this has been an uplifting entry. Sorry guys. In other news, oil is still spewing into the Gulf and perhaps destroying a good part of that area's economy, natural habitat, and hope. So there's that.

Because who cant spot a virus...

2010-06-02T20:20:00.000-04:00

Ay yi yi.

Always something to do, always somewhere to go, always something else I probably should be doing.

Like right now, I should probably be cleaning my apartment and being a good housewife to myself but instead I'm going to write a quick entry, jump in the shower, and head down to Comedy Works to catch a show at 8pm for the New Faces contest. Mainly because I'm freaking out. I have two wks to deliver a solid five minute set and I've got some ok stuff but its not where I want to be yet. So I'm staking it out. Should be fun. And funny.

You know, I've been realizing how much I really like the people I work with. And that if it werent for a select few, I prob would have bagged out awhile back. My bosses are amazing and the other Associates are pretty much where it's at. Now...if only I didn't have to spend my entire day in spreadsheets. Oh, and some tardface ended up infecting our entire corporate network with a facebook virus so that little joy has finally been blacklisted. Thank God for my work-sponsored iPhone. How else would I stay in touch with pretty much the whole world?

Man. Isnt it pathetic? Connectedness. Or at least the facade of it. What a waste of time. What an addicting, soul-sucking, narcissistic, amazing, and easy waste of time. Facebook. Fuck it.

But let's go back to the facebook virus. I'm a little confused at how much of a dick you have to be to realize that something isnt a virus. I've probably had 600 viruses thrown my way over the course of emails, social networks, and inter-gender encounters, but that's neither here nor there.

My opinion is that you should probably be able to spot a virus when you see it. In all aspects. I'll give it to you that some viruses are very well hidden. But many are not. And I would have to believe that since my retardo self hasnt fallen trap to viruses, they cant be that freaking hard to avoid.

I'm talking about computers still. I think.

What else? Um. Um. Um.

Nothing, I think. Nothing else.

Who's talking?? Oh wait...that's just me again.

2010-05-28T20:06:00.000-04:00

Sometimes when I'm writing in this I get this pause of anxiety where I'm like "Hey self, you're pretty much opening up the inner corners and crevices of your thoughts to pretty much anyone who can read it. You realize that right? You realize that anyone in their right mind can read this and see that yours is pretty much constantly in the wrong??"

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever, self.

That's one of those moments where your own inner dialogue catches up to you. And my inner dialogue sounds sort of like the Canadian House of Commons. If you havent ever had the opportunity or correct timing to catch the CHoC on some amazing channel like CSPAN2, I would suggest that you keep an eye open for it because the few hours I caught of it at a random moment a few yrs ago have stayed with me, burned into the core of my memory by the awesomeness that I witnessed. Via politicam.

You know when you see something on the news, like when that guy yelled "Liar!" at Obama during one of his speeches in Congress?? If they did that for the Canadian House of Commons, there would be enough news from one show to last for a year.

It's a constant mess of put-downs, jokes, huzzahs, inane ramblings, stark interruptions, amazing jargon, bizarre tradition, and those big powdery wigs that remind me of 4th grade history lessons.

So, to sum up what my inner dialogue sounds like, it pretty much sounds like a lot of crazy Canucks in a big room with what feels like no objective at all. After all, it is Canada.

Anyway.

I've been trying to blast-out the put-down voices. I think that was my point from the very beginning. Maybe hold on more to the voice that is joking. That one at least can help me with my newfound hobby.

Stand-up. I haven't really been visiting this topic in this blog. Don't be fooled, I'm pretty much thinking about it constantly. I get to see some amazing comics. So far just this year I've seen Dave Attell (twice!), Tom Green (AH!), Jim Jefferies, Aziz Ansari, Louis Johnson, and a bunch of other incredibly quality names that may not seem familiar but I really admire the myriad of abilities and styles I've seen. Laughing is a pretty awesome hobby.

And making people laugh is crazily narcotic. Making people laugh. It's a weird thing to do. There's something so honest about it. It works or it doesn't. You win, you lose. And being a beginner is a weird thing because I can walk off and think I sucked yet get great feedback. Or I can come off and feel like I did okay and get some pretty heavy criticism.

But I feel like each time I get onstage something better happens. I did three shows last wkend, Club 404 on Friday, Com Work South on Sunday, and Kingas on Sunday. And my set at Kingas was the most fun I've had on-stage so far. It felt natural.

It comes down to patience, I think. A virtue which escapes me on a pretty regular basis. But I'm trying. And I'm in the tunnel of so many aspects of my life right now, looking ahead to a light that gets a teensy bit bigger each day.

And right now I'm listening to the voice in my head that's saying "HURRY UP ALREADY DAMN IT!"

And the other one that's like "Jesus H Christ, Nicole. Shut the fuck up."

Now if only I had good bone structure...

2010-05-26T22:38:00.001-04:00

Right now...at this very moment...I'm doing a roast.

Not like the kind of roast where we all get to make fun of someone. But the kind where you roast a chicken. It smells abominably amazing. Like nothing should be allowed to smell this good.

I love cooking after work. Maybe it's the fact that I'm moving towards the stage of life where I need to get out of the office, take my shoes off, be plumped with child, and honor my husband, but cooking is fucking awesome. And I'm pretty impressed with how good I am at it. That's not even a sales pitch, fellas. It's the God's honest truth about the situation I got going on.

Check out the pre-bird:

Yeah. That's fucking bacon. Bacon in everything. Bacon on chicken. Bacon in soups. Bacon in ice cream. Bacon bacon all day bacon. I love it. I try not to eat it. But it has its place, and that place is almost anywhere I can think to put it.

So we'll see how this goes over. In the meantime, I'm going to smell the delectable whiffers of this bacon chicken stuffed with lemons and surrounded by root veggies as I click away in front of a screen that I dont really want to be in front of.

Screens. My life currently revolves around screens. I sit in front of a screen all day at work, self-learning the intricacies of Excel and loathing my current place in the world. It's ok, I have about three months left of this rotation, and I think I can do it. I think I can beat this one to the punch. But I cant say its not gonna suck doing it.

I think it's weird that when I thought I was at the peak of my quarter-life crisis, it was simply more of the quarter-life process and I think I'm now on the tail-end (fingers crossed) of the crisis as I move ahead into the summer months of 2010.

Things have never been this strange for me. Everything is new.

Living by myself? New. Never done this before. Working more than full-time?? Yeah, I mean I've kind of done it, but it was working in summer camp so that really doesnt count. I mean, that shit was fun. This...is real. Being away from people?? Havent really done this either. In college, there was a built-in system of people that you inevitably had to face every day. Between school and polo and work, I had so many different experiences over the course of each day that nothing was the same. Comedy?? Well, talk about new territory. I'm a fledgling in all aspects.

And essentially what has happened is that all the structure was pulled from my life. The structure of school. The living structure of roommates. The structure of finances that I had been used to. The structure of my work environment. All gone.

I've been taking an improv class at the Bovine Metropolis Theatre downtown, and we recently had our last class for the first session. It's been interesting because I had felt a bit of a disconnect from the class until last night. It was like something had magically kicked into gear, and all of the sudden the group was hilarious.

And in a moment of epiphany that caught me by surprise, I realized that we werent funny all of the sudden, but that all of the rules were finally staunchly in place for us, the structure had been set, and within the confines of structure and rules, the funny developed.

PS I just ate some of that bacon. Amazing.

But yeah. There was freedom that came with structure. Like any sport, the fundamentals are where every beginner starts. And boy howdy, am I there.

At this point, I've learning fundamentals in nearly every aspect of the game of life. Work. Personal life. Comedy. Whatever. So, with a bit of NiCoolio back on the rise, time to put the "fun" in fundamentals.

As for tonight, I'm going to finish roasting this bird and hit the hay early.

Three day wkend on the rise!

Today's topic: Dreams

2010-05-20T21:39:00.002-04:00

I've been thinking alot lately about dreams. Maybe because I've had some crazy ones lately. I recently dreamt my sister that my sister got eaten by a shark, and that I was grocery shopping when I found out. I kept grocery shopping. It was weird. I had a another dream that some guy was chasing me while another was trying to protect me and the "bad" one ended up stealing my car and crashing it through the my current place of employment. And then I had a dream that me and Boca were walking through a tall corn field together.

Personal interpretations:

Dream 1: My sister is moving to LA, I'm kinda sad about it, and I really need to go grocery shopping. Easy enough.

Dream 2: Work has been stressful. And my car is a sore spot for me right now as I will be downgrading to something horrifying I'm sure. Strangely enough, my anxiety surrounding my job died down a lot after this dream.

Dream 3: Boca has left me for Baltimore with Liv and crew. I'm going to miss them all, so keeping them in my dreams is a way to stay close. And on the corn side, for awhile I feel like I've really had no strong direction. Like being in a field of tall corn. Stranded and locked only by your own decision without any factual knowledge of what lies ahead.

I'm sure some dream expert would have a bunch of generalized bullshit to say about all of that. Unfortunately for those guys, I'm pretty intuitive. Or something.

And those, my friends, are my sleeping dreams. Next, I'd like to move on to the next category. The waking kind.

When I was little, I had dreams of becoming many things. I wanted to be a veterinarian. A marine biologist. An author. A meteorologist. A psychologist. A cheerleader (True story). And probably a million other things that sounded fun to me. I loved animals and people and words and weather and poms poms, apparently.

Just as an example, let's use the veterinary dream.

When I was a senior in high school, I took an internship with a local veterinarian. We went out to a call for a bull castration. And he spliced and ripped out the balls with no anesthetic, the bull screaming fully the entire time, and handed me the blood-soaked testes and told me to throw them away. It was the worst combo of sound I'd ever heard. A dream died that day. For me and that little bull.

My dream of becoming a cheerleader died hard in seventh grade. Story located here and believe me, it is well worth reading.

Other dreams were more wispy and held a little less cred. Although I work with a girl who got to train dolphins for a summer in Florida and who wouldn't want to do that? Unfortunately for me, the closest I got to ocean wildlife as a kid was Sea World Cleveland and wtf was that doing there anyway? I def dont know.

Anyhow, my dreams of now. I haven't really grasped on to anything with the vigor that I held as a kid. I'm assuming that's normal, as some shade of jade has to take over at some point.

Some people have the end-goal of a house and family life and kids and golden retrievers and I really have no desire for any of that at the moment or for the near future, which I'm determining to be 5-10 years. Might be shooting myself in the foot on that one. We'll see I'm sure.

I've noticed that the people I've known who have turned dreams into reality are so beyond confident that they will make it happen that they do make it happen. They encompass a resilience and a work ethic that boggles my mind. I covet it like hell. My confidence typically gets its ass handed to it by reality and I need to learn how to shut that self-defeating voice down for awhile so that maybe I can do something, ya know?

For some people, the dream is money. I mean, it's a nice dream. But I'm not sure it carries much merit. That dream on its own doesnt work for me, or I'd be very comfortable being where I'm at looking forward. It's not the case.

I dont really know if I have an end point to this. But in my search of finding my passion, I've found two things. Writing. I could write all day and every day. I could write about anything (obviously) and I haven't stopped writing since I started at 4 yrs old and I hope to continue writing until the day that I die. And comedy. I'm enamored by the ones who are really good. By the ones who work their faces off to make shit happen. Who take risks and throw it all on the table. It's a deep, weird hole to jump into. And I'm watching a lot of people do it really f-ing well. I'm standing there and looking in. I haven't decided what's next. On both levels.

But I should prob figure that out pretty soon.

Wednesday is for Writing

2010-05-19T23:52:00.000-04:00

I do too much. Do you ever do too much? Ugh. It's crazy-making.

Typically what happens when I do too much is I end up driving myself crazy. Not like the real kind. But the exhausted kind. And that is prob the worst side of me if I had one. It's like everyone gets Early Morning Nicole all the time and believe me, if I had to pick the worst part of myself, that is for sure it. 9am? Fine. I can make it. 7:30am? Death sentence. The big difference in an hour and a half? An entire sleep cycle. And a much happier and energetic me. There's some learning for you today.

SO what ends up happening after doing too much is a slow realization of the toll I'm taking on myself. And then a complete annihilation of everything that I can possible kick out of my life for awhile. Pinning the stress points back down to minimal. It's happened with comedy. And that makes me sad. Because at this point, it's really all I want to do. But my work life and comedy life aren't mutually exclusive and finding the balance has been a hard art. And one I am not so masterful at in the least. Fuck. I hate that.

Lately, I've been trying to reconnect and I come home from work and start getting ready to go out and inevitably end up reading a book and falling asleep. I'll get past that soon. Possibly with the help of a psychiatrist and a lot of meds.

But--in excellent news--this week has actually been...dare I say it...really, really good. I'm feeling energized. I'm feeling good. And I'm feeling optimistic about the future again. I'm settling into my new position and soaking in whatever knowledge can help me along the way, and it's working for now.

I've been thinking alot about Memorial Day Wkend. And I've decided that it's going to be a vacation wkend in Denver. I'm going to do what I want, when I want to do it, and make no plans. I might even go to the Zoo AND the Botanical Gardens. It could get beyond crazy. That's ok. I'm pretty sure that is where my "safe place" is.

So speaking of that, here's my fear of the day: On both sides of the family, I have what you could call a "crazy aunt". In my family, it's just me and my sister. So I have a 50/50 shot at being normal or being the crazy one. And actually now that I'm thinking about it, if my sister has kids, I'm going to be the only aunt on this side of the family, which means inevitably I will be the crazy one. Crap. I'm doomed.

In other news, I saw Tom Green this wkend. I loved it. And I wrote about it here.

Enough jib-jab. It's before 10pm. And after 9:30. Bed time for this crazy awaits.

A Confession of Sorts...

2010-05-13T00:17:00.004-04:00

Did you guys know you can get socks infused with aloe vera???? It's prob a scam but I like the idea so I'm going to pretend it's real. My feet are softer I think. Not smaller. But softer.

I have to admit something. Yes, I shave my armpits. And my legs too. No, I'm not gay. Yet at least. Searching for a third option? Maybe. We've discussed that before. But, in the ways of my father--may he rest in peace--I've been facing a bit of a struggle lately. ADHD. Depression. Whatever it is. It blew up my world the past few weeks. And in its cyclical manner, I'm getting back to the point where putting on my shoes to go to work doesn't seem like the beginning of a death march.

It's an interesting conundrum, the burden that I carry. I think in many ways my thought process allows me a lucidity that puts things into perspective, perhaps too much so. Ruminating is a past-time that breeds insecurities and false tragedies, but it also can foam over with creativity and passion and hopefully--ultimately--a journey that can take me somewhere beyond the 9-5. And by 9-5. I mean 7:30-5:30. Which usually ends up being somewhere between 7:45 and 8 and often 6:15 or beyond.

You've presumably heard the phrase "What doesnt kill you makes you stronger". I like to think of this more as "What doesnt kill you may really upset you for a long time or maybe incite mental issues you didn't have previously, like PTSD or real depression or scabies". Then there's the whole "No pain, no gain" thing?? Well, I can think of alot of things that dont require pain that can result in gain. Like winning a bet. Or hugging a friend. Or eating cheeseburgers. Pain and gain arent mutually exclusive, people.

Prescribing to this tough, grab-ya-by-the-balls American mentality just doesn't work for me. So I'm going to brainstorm what I like to call...

PLAN B

I've had a lifelong dream of driving a semi-truck. Catching some diesel fumes in the lower 48, ya know what I'm sayin? Hauling the big rig. Hanging at truck stops. Getting my concealed weapons license. Shaving a mullet into my hair and disguising myself along the lines of Cherize Theron in Monster. Like kind of terrifying but without being murderous. Also, plenty of super patriotic t-shirts will be necessary. Like this one:

Can you believe the artistry on that thing? What asshole sold out to make that t-shirt? I know you're hiding somewhere, you secretly patriotic artsy hipster.

Also, I'll have to adopt a really cool dog. Because everyone needs a driving buddy. I'm thinking something that looks scary. Or maybe I'll just get a Chihuahua. They like to bite people. And you can duct tape them into a shoebox if they get annoying. Dont get upset. I'd cut holes in it. I'm not going to kill anything, remember?

Ok, so now I'm kind of being an asshole. But...there is a level of truth to this. Driving a big rig would be the balls. And corporate America is putting my busy brain in a box that I just dont fit into.

Open road. American skies. Cheese fries.

And I'm going to try to get seven hours of sleep into my mortally exhausted brain cells. Dreams of big rigs and weigh stations to come.

In Defense of Country Music

2010-05-05T22:48:00.000-04:00

I'm the first one to admit that my taste in music wouldn't be what the majority of people would call "cool".

My iPod is littered with the full soundtracks of Phantom of the Opera, Rent, and Wicked, the occasional Backstreet Boys song, more Indigo Girls and chick rock than any straight girl should have, a surprising amount of Prodigy (Voodoo People=amazing) and a Disney playlist that would make a 5-year-old reconsider being my friend. My musical taste is most often defined by the attachment to a memory or a place in time in my life, rather than the musical experience. Ok, and there are a few songs that are there just for the pure hilarity. But that's neither here nor there.

I'm not embarrassed to admit any of that, as much as I probably should be. But what has bothered me for a period of years is the amount that I get shit on for my love for country music.

Shame me for my Andrew Lloyd Weber. Shame me for my N'Sync and Britney Spears. But thou shalt not shame me for my country music.

Herein lies the issue: When most people think of country, they think of the bullshit that gets played on your local country station. No. No no no. In a twist that might catch me some flack, country has indie music snobs, country hipsters if you will. And those country hipsters play some of the best f-ing music I have ever heard in my life.

It's music with soul. With stories and honesty and rolling riffs that pull me through long days of data entry and the mind-numbing monotony of work. It's intelligent and captivating and expertly crafted. To say that Billy Ray Cyrus's "Achy Breaky Heart" is in the same category as this music is a blatant travesty, a complete disregard for the talents that lay hidden beneath the pop country music stations desecration of the art.

So for those of you high on your musical holier-than-thou horses, I have crafted a playlist for the even the most haughty of you. Seek, and destroy. Your prejudices. Because this shit is good.

Robert Earl Keen-"Feelin' good again"
Pat Green "Cannonball"
Reckless Kelly "Mirage"
Randy Rogers Band "In my arms instead"
Reckless Kelly "Wicked Twisted Road"
Robert Earl Keen "Corpus Christi Bay"
Pat Green "I'm trying to find it"
Robert Earl Keen "Gringo Honeymoon"

And if that seems like a tall order and you were thinking, you know, I'll listen to one of these songs, go for "Gringo Honeymoon".

If you listen and dont like it, I'll respect your opinion. But if your hatred comes from a place of KYGO and Carrie Underwood, I would say that you are mis-informed.

And with that, a good night to us all.

Sunday morning.

2010-05-02T14:24:00.000-04:00

I've been up for three hours and I've accomplished two things: laying in bed and a shower. And if you count getting back into bed as another accomplishment, then I guess I've accomplished three things.

Maybe it's just Sunday morning talking, but I'm seriously contemplating booze-free summer. I did No-booze-vember last year and still managed to have a lot of fun. But in the interest of my checking account and not acting/looking like a wildebeest I think I might give the ol' heave-ho to the booze cruisin' as the heat descends on my beautiful city. I'm gonna marinate on this one for a few days and see how I feel when I'm not suffering from an over-indulgence of sorts.

Yesterday. Kentucky Derby slopfest. Awesome race. Fun day. Calvin Borel kills it again. Screw betting on horses. I'm betting on Calvin from here on out. The dude is a winner. A small, toothless, crack-head-like, chest-thumping winner. I like him. Over and out on that topic.

I love to read the news, and lately I've been realizing that I have my own mental boycotts on the things I will not read. I will not read about Heidi and Spencer. I will not read about Jesse James and Bombshell whatever. Pretty much anything adultery related, all on ban. Tiger Woods. I feel like it's the human version of coprophagia. And I wont be a part of it.
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I will read about Lady GaGa though. (She's celibate! And apparently on the baby food diet!) She's infinitely cool. Judge me at will.

Comedy. I took a break for awhile. I'm jumping back on that disco stick (GaGa'd!) as of this wkend. But yeah. I've been burning myself to the point of mental cremation with all the shit I've been trying to do. My job is demanding and stressful. Comedy is the best but it goes late. I was even volunteering on wkends. And then just trying to keep up with my regular things like laundry and cleaning and what have you...well, I'm serious ADD and my ability to get shit done in a timely fashion is seriously being tested right now. I give myself a D grade on completion and an A for fucking effort because holy balls, slow down, life. You're moving a little too quickly for me. And towards what? I dont know. I really dont.

I had a talk with a pal recently and ended up realizing that a big source of my stress is coming from the fact that I'm in over my head. On my menial corporate salary (it's more menial than you may think, believe me) trying to afford my cutesie apartment, my lovable Sebring, and a mix of student loans and whatever else is haunting my finances, well, it's hard. Real hard. Some of you can prob identify.

So my new goals are to find a roomie and transfer apartments...which is a very daunting thought. Craigslist, here we go again. Also, the Sebring is going to go bye-bye. And I'm going to be looking for the sweetest and cheapest ride out there. I'm hoping for a Chrysler Le Baron convertible. Or like a t-top Trans Am. Something a little cokehead-ish, just because those are the kind of cars that I think are hilarious. I'll probably end up with a Saturn. Or like a Ford Escort. I'm excited for my shit not to own me. It's gonna be a great kind of freedom.

With that, I've got shit to take care of. Outies.

Not really important. Or interesting.

2010-04-25T23:47:00.000-04:00

Aside from that guy looking pretty douchey, I'm seriously jealous that he got to hug a panda. I should have been a zoology major. F it. I'm going back to college. I'll play with penguins, and giraffes, and hang out at the zoo all day. Sociology. WTF was I thinking?

Where does the term "sad panda" come from anyway? I never thought pandas looked sad. Is it some weird emo kid thing? I dunno. But I do know that pandas are cute. And the baby panda I saw awhile back playing in its enclosure at the San Diego zoo was one of the most painfully adorable things I could ever see.

Well, the thought of "sad panda" came up probably in part because that's what I am tonight. I'm not feeling great. My stomach has been killlllling me all day. And this cold, rainy crap is not helping my state of mind in preparing for my work week. I love a good, rainy day. When its warm. But cold rain? In Colorado? For like five days straight? No thanks. I moved home from the east coast to eliminate this from my life. SoCal, you're next if this doesn't let up. I'll pick up and move tomorrow if I have to.

I do love Sunday nights though. Because they usually mean family dinner night. Which is amazing because my family is amazing. And my new family is amazing. For those of you who dont know, my mom recently got engaged. To an awesome guy. With a great family. And its all because I convinced her to go the E-Harmony route. Booyah. I win. And so does everyone involved.

The other side of Sunday nights is usually open mic night at Kingas. I'm skipping for the first time in awhile. Which makes me sad. But my bed feels great. And I'm looking forward to shutting this shitbox of a laptop and hitting the hay after a really fun wkend. Or at least a really fun Saturday. And a productive Sunday.

So to sum this up, boooooooooooooooooooooooooooring.

Night, ya'll.

Things I'm pondering momentarily.

2010-04-22T00:29:00.001-04:00

1. My cat. I made the poor decision to take on the responsibility of another life last November. This other life went from extreme cuteness at about 6 wks old...

...to whatever I would call him now. Which the majority of the time is a string of profanities. Fine. I like him sometimes. But I'd like to fast-forward him at least three yrs so that he's well into the mature, lazy stage where he doesn't keep me up all night and my vet is telling me that he's getting too fat. I should have adopted an adult cat. Cuteness=way over-rated.

2. Yoga. I started doing yoga on Sunday. This is a bit of a phenomenon as I am the classic example of the meat-eating douche that hates yoga. I went to one class at my old gym and thought it was the worst thing ever. Read: hippies and talking about loving yourself...not so much my style. But I tried Corepower and in one class they made me a believer. As a person with pretty intense anxiety about, ohhh, everything, I'm pretty sure that class is the first time I've actually relaxed in years. I did my second class tonight. Yep. It is good. I feel human.

3. Princess. I just want everyone to know, that in my place of work, we have a temp who's given name, on her birth certificate, is Princess Star. PRINCESS STAR. That's something I would have named a pony when I was four yrs old.

4. Spring FEVER. Or summer fever? There was a noticeable difference in the trees today in Denver, Colorado. And throughout the day, it went from cloudy to sunny to hail and thunder and back to sunny again with some amazing clouds. The clouds have really been unbelievable lately. The other day, there was a thunderhead, or a cumulonimbus cloud if you want to get specific here, that spanned the majority of the sky east of Denver. HUUUGE. That is huge. And if you havent been to Denver, the skies are big out here. Real big. It was really beautiful. I do love this city. So much.

5. A fever of a different kind. With summer in the air, I always catch a bit of the bug to GO. In college, I'd start mentally gearing up for finals and then the break and all the craziness that would go down there. Summer camp. Polo. Boozehounding. Whatever. I love to move and shake, and I've got the eternal problem of ants-in-the-pants. But I'm doing my best to quell every desire to shake loose of everything and turn it all upside down. It's hard for me. Anyone who knows me well knows that I'm not great at staying put. And that I can pull a serious wild card now and then. I live in the suspense of myself. That is probably why I need to keep doing yoga. Moving on.

6. Quarter Life Crisis. It comes and goes. Some days are up. Some days are down. I read that a mid-life crisis is not a crisis at all, but the expanding awareness of one's own mortality. Well, if that's the case, then I've been in a mid-life crisis since losing my dad to cancer at 15 yrs old. But I'm sure in a way that is exactly what I'm dealing with in all of this. The knowledge that I'm not guaranteed 100 years on the planet. Or 45, as in the case of my dad. Or even the next day. I have the urge to constantly be sinking my teeth into life and pulling everything that I can out of it. But I think I've gotten lost in that concept and that part of the resolution to the conflict may be to prepare myself for the best of scenarios. Rather than pull wild-card Nicole and cannonball into my pool of instant gratification. Patience...it's a virtue. I have nearly none of it. We're gonna work on that. All one of us.

7. Consistency. I get really good at writing for awhile. Then, my schedule goes buckwild and between work, sleep, comedy, and maintaining any level of social relationships, well, writing goes out the window. I'm getting back on board this wk. It's in my planner. Sort of.

8. Sleep. I'm seriously lacking it. To bed I go.

Frogging...the third

2010-04-15T22:37:00.005-04:00

What's that? Oh, um...yeah. Me neither.

Sorry, I was just having a conversation with myself. I was saying how I'm really looking forward to an entire wkend of inactive dog vs. hyperactive cat. Which is happening this wkend...because...I have...the Bocies!!!!

He's got an eye on all of us.

In the few times Boca has stayed at my apartment, he has problem solved in a manner very similar to the velociraptors of Jurassic Park. He's figured out that if we take the elevator, he doesn't have to climb the stairs. Which has led to an all-out refusal of stair-climbing and an adamant demand for elevator rides. Me and the Boc. We really are kindred spirits.

A great development happened at my apartment complex: the pool chairs are finally out. This means that it's about time for me to go Kardashian all over this skin and bring the darkness of my inner self to my outer self as well.

I am at the height of exhaustion. This whole stay-out-late-at-comedy-shows and get-up-early-for-corporate-america is really draining my energy bank. My mom is encouraging me to take up yoga. I've yoga'd before and had trouble taking it seriously, but this time of year last spring I was running a few miles a day. And whatever energy I mustered up in those days has long since disappeared. So yoga it is. We'll see how it goes.

In a stroke of weirdness, I'm sitting out on my porch, which overlooks the pool at my apmt complex. And a bunch of the guys who play on the Colorado Rapids are sitting in the pool area shooting the shit. I know this because I walked by them con Bocies and heard them chit-chattering about it. Also, I know that they can live for free here or something like that. Preferred housing whatever. So I busted out my own deductive skills and put that shit together pretty easily. I'm pretty smart, I know. They all look like they're twelve. So that's neat.

Hmmm hmm hmm. The selling point on this apartment actually happened in the hallway on the way up to check it out. He walked by. He was glorious. Maybe the hottest guy I have ever seen. If I could describe him in detail, it would be one word, and the word would be hot. I felt like we had a serious connection when we didn't meet eyes. So I moved here. And haven't seen him since. As much as I aimlessly troll around the hallways trying to look as attractive as possible. Which means I put on a shitload of makeup, spend three hours doing my hair, and I carry a tranquilizer gun in my right pocket. Because I'm right handed, and that allows me to have prime accuracy.

That story is true. Some of it, at least.

Have you ever eaten something and then realized it's not what you thought it was?? I just did that. Well, I just ate something that I didnt really know what it was. But I was right this time. It WAS chocolate. Thank God.

When I was doing AmeriCorps time in Boston last spring, I wrote in this blog a shitload. I would encourage you to read those entries because they are much better than anything I've offered up recently, but anywho, I did this thing called Frogging a few times. Which is free-style blogging. And I just realized that is pretty much what I'm doing right now. Which has inspired the title as I type this, so I hope you're glad you got your explanation in a timely manner.

It's BASEBALL SEASON!!!!!!!!!!!!! I am REALLY excited! However, my relatively new beer ban is going to be killer and I cant have hot dogs anymore and what the fuck. My excitement just waned into a smelly pile of disappointment. Gluten, thou hast ruined me. RUINED ME!

I dont know how many of you guys know this, but my mom is what I like to call a wild card. She's awesome, but very unpredictable. And yesterday, out of the blue, with no pre-text or follow up, she texted me the following:

Take some time to love yourself and the life within you.

Oh, Mom. You're gonna be so fun when you're senile.

Ok, I'm gonna go before anyone makes a strong judgment regarding my current level of lucidity. As I'm incredibly sleep-deprived, I'm pretty sure I'm hitting the hay right now.

Nighty, friendos.

Writing Style: "Stream-of-unconsciousness"

2010-04-09T19:36:00.002-04:00

Oh man. Things got a little heavy the last time around. I think I compared my life to perhaps the most depressing play of all time besides Rent.

Blogging is a little bit like drinking, in that after a certain point I definitely dont know what I'm saying anymore, and oftentimes I wont remember it until someone reminds me the next day. Am I saying that I black out when I write? Kind of. It's like I fall into an emotional shroud of understanding and I'm trying to weave some sort of sense out of it. But without the booze. Maybe its more meditative. Do people remember doing yoga? I dont know. I did it once and got asked to leave because I was laughing at everyone. As there is no sex in the champagne room, there is no laughter on the yoga mat.

I felt like crap today. The kind of crap that disables you both mentally and physically. The kind where all you can do is sleep it off and hope that the chills eventually subside.

I think I know why some celebrities go to the hospital for exhaustion. Nothing to do with me, I'm just pretty sure they're getting some sort of procedure done. If I could get any procedure done, I probably wouldn't. Because I'm not a vain, insecure dumbass. Pretty much just an insecure one.

Is it okay to raise your kids and constantly tell them that they're going to be great? What if we raised our kids with the expectation that they are going to be average? I believe that this would singlehandedly be the greatest factor in lowering the rate of depression in this country. The only thing better than low expectations is no expectations, because anything great that does come along is a very, very, very nice surprise.

Have you guys seen those TV shows that talk about the curse of the lotto? The CURSE of the LOTTO! Now, let's put this into perspective. If someone is broke white trash before they win the lotto, eventually they're going to find their way back to that place in time. From dust we came and to dust we shall return, right? And I understand how they COULD blow their winnings. Ironically, stuff that makes people white trash can be really expensive. Speed boats. Dually pickups. Methamphetamines. I'm sure that I could easily blow 35 million in a few yrs given the opp, but I wouldn't. Because I'm smart. And even if I'm not that smart, I'm smart enough to know that Mase was right when he sang "Mo Money Mo Problems" and that was a long time ago so its pretty ingrained into my thinking process. I would figure out how to invest that shit into something awesome. But I would only do that after I purchased my dream castle in Europe. Just sayin.

And now that I'm feeling better, I think I'm gonna take a shower and get ready to sit in the audience at yet another comedy show. This should be a good one. I'm kind of excited.

Friday, ya'll.

The Death of a Salesman.

2010-04-08T22:52:00.003-04:00

Who didn't hate that play in high school?

If I could start this blog off with a noise, it would be a very loud and very disgruntled-sounding sigh.

But I cant. Which leads to many other sighs of disgruntledness and whatever it is that my battered soul is feeling at the momento.

I work with this guy who is pretty awesome. I shall call him Hammy here, because that's pretty much what I call him anyway. Hammy, like me, is a lover of the written word and a lib arts graduate from my prestigious alma mater. The kid is pretty buttoned-up, wears a lot of argyle, and is a genuinely nice guy who doesn't really get involved in whatever dramas exist within the workplace. I like him. Everybody does. He's the chocolate chip cookie of the office. You cant not like a chocolate chip cookie.

Anywho. We're driving to lunch the other day. Me, Kimmo, Wally, and Hammy. And the Ham starts telling us in a wistful manner about what he was like in his (very recent) college days. Long hair. Pierced lip! Grungey and kind of punkish. Hammy! The arygyle-wearing, straight-laced, most dependable guy around! And all of the sudden I had a new understanding of the Ham. I felt the burden on his soul. Tis the burden I face every morning when I wake up. Monday through Friday.

And thank God for the comedy. It revives my soul a few times a week. It brings me back to the place where being serious is unwelcome and each minute is lived for itself. And in turn I find myself in the words of the comics and in the reaction of the audience and in my own attempts at making my words come to life for someone else in real time. Not via a blog. Or a post. Or an iPhone. Real time.

I feel a part of me that was once truly alive die in the flood of emails. And in the string of phone calls. And in the spaces of boring necessity that facilitate whatever may be called "work". I receive emails on days off and wkends. I am chastised for not reading those emails at night on my own time. I am locked into a web of communication that stifles any sort of movement. I miss the sun when it is shining and the rain when it rains in the windowless shell of the plant that I work in.

Last week, there was a thunderstorm outside that acted as the preface to a spring snowstorm. Hammy and I booked it to the side of the building, and we stood in the cold and wind-blown drill of the tiny balls of ice and watched the lightning and listened to the constant roll of the thunder.

For about twenty minutes, we stood there. For the most part silently. Letting the hail cover our clothes and bead its way into our hair. The conditions of the angry sky rumbled with conflicting patterns, guilt began to work its way into our psyches, and--without a word--we both went back inside.

I never thought I would understand that play. I never wanted to. I hated the concept of it.

And I thought I was afraid of heights.

Musings of a new 26-yr-old.

2010-04-08T00:19:00.004-04:00

In recent news, if everyone had a sister, I would look like her.

In other news, I turned 26 on Monday. I guess that's news. On my personal blog.

26. I'm calling it "The Year of Opportunity" and if in fact it is NOT the year of opportunity, then I will push "The Year of Opportunity" to year 27. So maybe this is not the year of opportunity, but the year of procrastination. I have 12 months to do something. Or to continue to put it off. Can't wait to see how this turns out. God knows I'm sooooo great at following through on things. It's a gift, I know.

If I were to sum up the past 26 years in one hyphenated word, it would be pro-life. Not because of abortion or anything related, but because I really didn't have a choice in the matter. And I have protested myself often. Does that even make sense? Moving on.

I'm in a strange mood. I think my lack of sleep from birthday booze, comedy, and that thing called work has caught up with me and mildly fried my brain. We're in the process of overhauling the entire system that I'm currently using at work. And when I say "we", I mean "I". Because that is pretty much what its going to come down to. Building a new system of organization (which is not really my best subject in the workplace) and then seeing how much I can screw it up. Yes. This should at the very least be interesting and also accrue overtime that I do not get paid any extra for. And that whittles my salary down closer and closer to minimum wage. Hooray. But in better news, the overhaul now means less work later...so legit hooray for that.

F. Let's not talk about work. What else...what else...

In the category of else, there's not too much to say. I've been enjoying my stint in the comedy scene of Denver. In a strange way, it's right up my alley. The weird and shady dive bars. The interesting and often bizarre people. The impeccable guy-to-girl ratio. It's pretty awesome. But my plans of "going there" are limited. As the old saying at the School of Mines goes, the odds are good but the goods are odd. The reverse version of this (The goods are odd, but the odds are good) may or may not also be how I used to promote myself in the drunken free-for-all that was college--but that's neither here nor there--and I really dont think I have a point to any of this.

Really, the only reason that I'm writing is that my laundry was in the dryer and I needed to stay up somehow. So I guess that's my point. And now, my little apartment is clean. My laundry is done. And I'm going to bed much later than I wanted to.

And as I am now 26 and consider 10:18 to be going to bed late, I'm going to cry myself to sleep as I wistfully dream of the days when 10:18 was before I was even out on the scene.

Good night, blogosphere.

More of this.

2010-04-01T23:56:00.000-04:00

Sorry, I'm trolling around on my re-favorited online place. And I have to share some funny profile things. It's going to be awesome.

One guy told me this via his unedited 'about me': Know yourself. Your arround yourself all day long, why not get to know you.

Headlines:
Shocker-guy who likes the mountains (Yep, he's the shocker guy.)
Now you have a friend in the diamond business (Desperate.)

This guy looks like a McPoyle from It's Always Sunny...

I KNOW RIGHT???????????????????????? So I emailed him. I know. And what about MATT DAMON!

Here's a cool name: GoodIntentions11...UM yeah, I'd hope so.

Another telling piece of info: I’m a very easy going type of guy, but at the same time hardworking and goal orientated.

I love being goal-orientated...dont you?

Another cool name: NoGut His pictures prove he doesnt have one, just so you know.

What about funlaidback24? What can we learn about him from his username?

Ok, this is dumb. I'm done.

Match.com strikes again.

2010-04-01T01:27:00.001-04:00

Well, if you've been following this blog for any extended period of time, you would know that my last leap into match.com was around a yr ago, maybe less. I dont really remember. I havent touched the thing since I landed in Denver, but after talking with my mom, she convinced me to once again jump off the bridge of sanity and into the online dating pool.

I love/hate it. What happens is that I usually find a couple guys who are obviously intelligent, well-written, and attractive which also leads to them being most likely out of my league, so I tend to fuck with them through email correspondence. Well, this time, I'm on the side of getting fucked with but not in the way that is intentional.

I send this guy an email. He's all three of the aforementioned qualities. Like I'd friend the shit out of this guy and love him from afar. So I sent him an email that was something along those lines, saying we have alot in common blah-blah-blah. Within 20 min he writes back agreeing with me and "hahaha"ing my email. Then, like a pinprick to my heart, he hits me with this piece of info:

Looking over your profile I do agree that we have a lot in common, but the oddest thing is you look pretty much exactly like my little sister so that is what would weird me out the most...

And underneath this, he sends me a link to this picture:

REALLY? REALLY? We DO look exactly alike. Apparently, I have a long lost twin and it's this guy's sister. So he goes immediately into the lost cause section of my mental dude file, because if he was attracted to me, I'd be worried. And if he wasn't attracted to me, I'd be attracted to him.

This is the match.com hand that I've been dealt. To "hit on" guys and then have it thrown back in my face that I'm already pretty much their sibling. Unbelievable.

Fuck you, Match.com. I want my $26 back.

In the wake of Mischa Barton's recent puke 'n rally...

2010-03-30T22:20:00.002-04:00

Mischa, girl, has anyone lately told you how GOOD you be lookin!?! I think I know your secret!!!!!!

I read a few minutes ago about how Mischa Barton, the annoying star of that old crap-show The OC, recently pulled a puke n rally at a bar in Hollywood. The headline in HuffPost reads "Mischa Barton vomits in bar" and the headline in the NY Post reads "Mischa Barton's tough night".

Now. In all of my infinite wisdom, after reading this article, I have recognized Mischa's party habit as an art that the young drunken masses have deemed as the "Puke 'N Rally". AH! The Puke 'N Rally! How did I determine this? Well, in the article, it states that she "runs outside and vomits everywhere. And then she went back inside and hung out for the rest of the night."

Yes, you did, Mischa Barton. Gain my respect, that is.

Screw these Hollywood dickarazzis and their poor choice of highlighting the coolest, trendiest acts of young celebs. These people live in a world where partying is frowned upon by the great majority of the no-ones living elsewhere. Who cares?

Lindsey Lohan should have cocaine in her car. I expect it from her. Paris Hilton should dance topless on bars. She has been crafted by the very hands of God to be queen of the bar sluts. Hugh Grant should get a hummer from a tranny prostitute. Live it up, celebs! Take it to the limit!

God knows if I had been followed throughout my college career I would not only be on every Celebrity Rehab show known to man but I would have also continued to party balls just like most of these young celebs do. "Nicole dances uncontrollably" would be coupled with a picture of my dumb ass grinding on the wall at Wash Bar with a dead look in my eye. "Nicole barstalks guy who is out of her league" would be news the next night, with a pic of me swigging a shot of tequila and staring at an uncomfortable attractive guy next to me. "A drunken Nicole sleeps in dorm hallway" may have been another headline...my senior yr of college. These things happen. Young people drink. And only the best of them puke 'n rally.

And may God spite you all for shaming these people! If Mischa Barton had taken a shot of whiskey, thrown up, and called it a night, then yeah, shame the shit out of her. But to be obviously intoxicated, send it all to the streets, and say "Fuck it, I'm ready for more"...well, the girl has earned my respect. I used to think she was just some dumb anorexic with moderate good looks and a pension for hanging out with douchebags like that guy who called Lohan a firecrotch. (Uhh nobody messes with the Lohan...alright?)

No more. I've altered my stance on Misch to an anorexic-bulimic with moderate good looks with a pension for hanging out with that guy who also hangs out with Paris Hilton and called Lohan a firecrotch. (You know, it was a true statement, so I do kind of give it to him.)

Shame on YOU, America. And get after 'em Mischa. If I ever get a chance to hang with your drunk ass, I'll be the first one to hold back your hair so you can get back into the party where you belong.

The understandings.

2010-03-27T17:37:00.000-04:00

Wow. There are so many things I have to share. In the words of my favorite SNL character Brian Fellow "Let's get GOOOOOOING!" God love you Tracy Morgan.

I dont know how many of you realize this, but I've recently cut back in a hard way on my most expensive and occasionally harmful habit of drinking. And some of you laugh and say "Silly Nicole, you say that every few months" but with the conviction of any recovering idiot I say "No, this time I really mean it guys" and I have to say I've done a pretty good job of standing by my decision. A great job actually.

Now, the other side of this issue goes back to the "why" of why I was drinking in the first place. And why do most people drink if not simply to escape social insecurities? I've done it for years. A few drinks and I'm golden to talk to the world and bring them into my universe of happiness and fun. A few more drinks and I'm cursing that world and crying in the corner.

You see, drinking is a bell curve married with a timeline. I created a form of it to facilitate understanding....

The catch to this bell is that more often than not I do find the plane of existence between the release of baggage and the peak of the bell. That's a great place for all of us to be, but its a very fine line between that and total breakdown on the back side of that bell, and I've been there enough times to warrant a change in behavior that I believe is for the better.

I haven't stopped drinking. I'm not attending classes. This isnt some huge life overhaul where I consider myself to be addicted or recovering or whatever psychological lingo is out there in the world. I'm simply taking a step back.

And it's been a strange journey. With my soiree into the Denver comedy scene, I've noticed that without the level of booze that takes me to a place of social comfort, I'm painfully awkward. In a kind of hilarious and bizarre way. Because for any of you who know me on a level bigger than hi and bye, you might have a different understanding of me. A world without a shitload of booze is a world that is filled with a higher degree of "H-h-hey, uhh how's it goings?" and less "Fuck! Let's take shots and build this friendship NOW!" So that's a bit of a strange place for me.

The job in itself has been pretty cool lately. By pretty cool, I mean I like what I'm doing. On the other side of that I had a strange realization.

My entire life I was told that I could be whatever I wanted to be, that if I wanted to go to college, I had all the opportunity in the world to do so, that I could be somebody. My parents didn't go to college, and for my dad, his main goal was to get me there. For eighteen years, I pushed toward that goal. College.

But I've been out of college for nearly two years now. And after taking six years to finish my undergraduate experience, I realize now that in my quest to get to college, I lost sight of the whole "after college" phase. And that in my journey within college, my main goal was not to leave college.

Well, fuck me.

Because here I am, two yrs later, inside I'm still the same kid that believes I can do anything that I want, but everyone neglected to tell me that I could do anything I wanted-----outside of working. That the goal of working to put myself through college was to work to pay off college once I graduated. And that paying off college meant taking a path that was riddled with the realities of being independent, paying off debt, and trying to support yourself on a pretty remedial salary.

And then people have the audacity to tell me to be thankful to be employed. Because its a shitty economy and man am I so lucky to have a job.

Fine. I am lucky. And the job isn't bad, in fact, I like a lot about it, except for the early hours and the long days.

But there is a part of me every morning that wakes up to the cold, dead reality that "This is it, my friend. This is what your college dreams were made of."

I'm not complaining. But shit man, that's a $40,000 pill that is pretty hard to swallow.

With that, I'm enjoying my wkend.

Holy shit! It's mid-March!

2010-03-16T21:31:00.000-04:00

I've got a good degree of issues. Let's discuss.

I've always sort of catered to my un-diagnosed but overly apparent ADD. For those of you that have seen me in any sort of situation that requires an overt amount of concentration with a minimal amount of action, well, it's a crapshoot at best. My eyes glaze over. My over-active mind wanders. And the probability of imminent distraction is real and foreboding.

The other mental illness which seems "made up" but I tend to ascribe to would be Seasonal Affective Disorder. In which lack of daylight means a loss of sanity and a lack of clarity (or a heavy load of it) from the period of mid-January to right about now. I lose interest in most everything in this period of time except for eating and sleeping, then daylight comes back and I swing back into my typically smiling mode of attacking the world at large. The same ones of you who have noticed my ADD have dealt with me in this time of year and if I were you guys, I'd tell me that southern California should be in my future if I ever want anyone to love me back.

Within 48 hours of the clocks moving backward, the heaviness has lifted and I'm once again in production mode.

Back to the working thing. Compounded with my psychoses and the rather dreary winter that Colorado rained down on my parade was a rotation within my job that had me sitting in front of a screen for the great majority of daylight hours. This in turn made the idea of coming home and sitting in front of any screen feel like the worst indignity and a chore of epic proportions.

That said, I've totally slacked on my writing via computer. Here. Other places. In my personal life.

But I'm back, friends. And I'm excited to push forward into the longer and warmer days of 2010. And maybe next yr I'll go on meds and save us all the hassle.

Ten Minutes.

2010-02-19T15:29:00.000-05:00

That's all I got.

It's Friday and its very cold. The sky is gray. Or grey. I never f-in know. And it's very cold outside. Basically, I could still be sleeping if today was Saturday. I am in a total and complete state of grog. And it sucks.

I'm in the process of trying to get over this grog, but I dont see an end to it for a while. Between the ever-lingering battle with money and with my own psyche and also the seeming foreverness of winter, I uhhh I just dont know where to cut my losses. I should prob just cut em everywhere.

I've made a pretty good habit of having a ton of shit on my plate. Like legitimately too much. It's inedible. Because its shit. You get where I'm heading with this? Alright. Donezo.

Additionally, my ADD is on wildfire mode as we speak. Looking at a computer screen is the last thing I want to be doing, but it's my nicotine and one that is a necessary evil.

I'm getting closer and closer to my volunteering time with a local middle school. You know, I worked with kids for so many years, and I got a little burnt out, but after six or seven months away, I'm feeling the void. Their view on life is a purist one, and an honest one, and I'm learning that working with adults is actually exactly like working with kids, except without the part that's fun. Adults are just as finicky, easily upset, and irrational. They just think they arent. And I think that's dumb. (Not everyone, by the way. But in a working environment, I'm going with the 80 percentile are overgrown, overindulged children. And that sucks.)

So what do I do and where do I go and what am I waiting for?

I only had ten minutes. Those questions are wayyyyyyy to big to handle.

The Wizard is feeling a little less ballsy.

2010-02-17T14:51:00.000-05:00

Ohhhh yeah. He got the ol' chopparoo. And also, I've been putting a calming aid in his food. Kind of like how my friend used to give her little brother Nyquil when she babysat for him when we were like 15 and he was like 8. But less horrible. More necessary. Also I've been working on rewriting Eazy E's "Nuts on your chin" to a more neutered cat-applicable and American Idol worthy "Nuts on the Ground". I'll let you know how it goes.

Both of these things mean he is a little more bearable. I'm also realizing that I think I have a bit of an attachment disorder. It takes awhile. With pretty much everything.

In other recent news, I recently bought a Cricket Wireless card for my laptop, which means I will be able to access the internet from anywhere. Which is kind of bad news because I'm on the net all day at work. But it's good news because I'm going to be able to write more for all of the various writing engagements I have fallen into, which includes this sorely neglected piece-o-crapper bloggo. The piece hasn't come in the mail yet. I'm hoping it comes today. $40 bucks a month AND it goes everywhere. Hello facebooking and driving! Like I havent been doing that already on my iPhone...

I'm currently eating a Qdoba burrito bowl, which on one end is delicious but the pico is super heavy with huge chunks of red onions, which I have always found to be horrifically unappetizing. And may I remind the exorbitant number of Qdoba employees who read this blog that the onion must be minced, MINCED, not chopped, for the correct effect. (Anyone want to translate that line for me? En espanol?) Another reason to prefer Chipotle, which is superior to all burrito joints. For all you FoCo a-holes out there, Big City Burrito sucks donkey. I think you can finish that on your own, and that beloved potato burrito everyone raved about in college, well, you guys smoked wayyyyy too much to even have an opinion if you liked that hunk of garbage. Dis-gusting.

I'd also like to intro you guys to a new word in Liv's vocab. The word is "domecheck". And neither one of us know what it means, but I have a feeling its along the lines of having your best friend deck you in the dome from behind while on a tequila bender. I'm not saying this happened. I'm not saying it didn't.

I've been drinking a lot of tea lately. It's been making me feel a lot more Zen. Actually, I just have to pee alot. That's really all it makes me do.

What else, f-ers? Ugh. My life is slowing down as I've been relegated to a data-entry position for the next two months. I made the mistake of not entering one line on this thing I've been doing, and that mistake is basically costing me a day of work, so in an effort to clear my mind, to prepare my psyche, I figured I'd drop a bomb on this blog and clear the air before I go back to filling in a single product field on 450 products that I have to open individually.

And I'm sick of winter. Anyone else? I think my apartment pool has been giving me dirty looks, but I'm probably just imagining it.

Ok. Onward and upward..

Where I is.

2010-01-23T18:04:00.001-05:00

I did it. I stood up. And then I told jokes for four minutes. And I'm not going to write about it here, because I already wrote about it here.

Life has been really fun lately. A surprising turn for me, as I'm usually wading through shitwater towards something that I think is going to be awesome and then it happens and I'm like "Well, that didn't quite meet my expectations." And at that point, I've been wading in shitwater for awhile, and there's no turning back once that has happened.

But the shitwater has been drained. Life is fun right now.

Between working the new yob, getting on my feet with the Denver comedy scene, and testing new limits for myself, I'm pretty stoked at the fact that I've been able to rebound from the regressions I felt a few months ago. You know, living at home, being unemployed, generally hating everyone and everything, and losing out on the creative energy that tends to build when things are constantly in motion.

I think that is actually what has happened. Things have constantly been in motion. When I'm not working, I'm doing something. And when I'm not doing something, I'm sleeping. And for me, that's the happy medium. It's a type of consumption that seems like it would be crazymaking, but with my attention span, the only time I'm really productive and creative is when I'm pressing forward at full throttle. I know. What a weird way to be.

I will add that I would like to give away my cat because he refuses to let me sleep every night. And I look like a self-mutilation case from all the 2:30am clawbombs he's been droppin' on me. But I wont. Because I made a commitment and I typically suck at those, so me and the Wizard are gonna get through this. And he is getting a kennel. Just like a dog.

And with that, done.

Ok. Maybe I did have a New Years Resolution.

2010-01-16T21:04:00.000-05:00

What was I thinking?

Last week, I attended the weekly comedy open mic at the Squire Louge off Colfax and Williams. The bar is totally my deal: old, smelly, and a little creepy. The comedy totally ruled. And I wrote an article about it for my comedy column that skyrocketed me to being the most-read Examiner in Denver. Who knew that talking about a shitty dive with some great comedy could get so much freakin' attention?? I was really floored! The article pulled over 700 views which is really amazing...I guess it's pretty great to review comics because they are even more shameless about self-promoting than I am. And I think we all know that's pretty hard to do. I am pretty damn shameless.

Anyways...after the show I caught up with the guy hosting, his name is Greg Baumhauer, and I asked about his process of putting together the line-up. He gave me a great explanation and then I, in a moment of complete retardation, blurted out that I wanted to go up, and he said to come back next wk.

It's Saturday. I have until Tuesday to come up with 2 minutes of comedy that I'm not completely ashamed of. And currently I have one joke and it's about 10 seconds long. Uhhh time to get cooking!

My reasoning behind all of this is that A) I really have no credibility to be writing about comedy other than the fact that I like to laugh at things and B) I'm not going to critique something that I cant do. So fuck it. On Tuesday night, I'm going to go up there and say my piece and maybe get a few laughs out of it or at the very least make everyone feel insanely awkward.

This is gonna get real weird. I'm banking on my writing ability to get me halfway there, but God only knows what will happen when I actually get on stage. I'm a nervous laugher, which doesn't bode well. I like speaking in public, but I'm not very good at it. So yeah, I guess that's one of the only things that borderline freaks me out. What in the hell is going to happen when its all on me?

This should be good fodder for entertainment, and if I get at least one healthy laugh out of this, I'm going to say that my first time was a success.

We'll see. I'm not banking on anything. I figure that's prob the best way to go into it. And this was my NYR. But dont tell anyone. It'll fuck up my street cred.

Neglection

2010-01-14T21:18:00.001-05:00

Guess what I did in 2010 so far? Made up a new word. That's what.

I'd like to summarize for you what's been going on in my life as of late, to make up for not writing ever. AKA neglection of the blog. In addition, I have this ever-burning need to justify myself on things that really I have no need to provide justification for. Like ending a sentence with the word "for". Apparently, thats a midwestern thing. I was recently told that. It's probably not true.

SUMMARY: Got new apartment, no wireless yet, dont want to write in this blog at work, writing for other things that more people read.

Ok. That's pretty much it.

A friend accidentally re-intro'd me to Mason Jennings, a personal freshman year fave, and I'm listening to the song "Sorry Signs on Cash Machines" and it makes me really, really happy. Also, "Train Leaving Gray" blows my face off with amazingness. And "Crown". And "The Light 2" and "Adrian" and "Living in the Moment". I forgot about you, Mason. My ears are so thankful.

I thought when I had a job I wouldn't be broke or living paycheck-to-paycheck anymore. That belief is FALSE. And I now find myself beyond broke and living paycheck-to-paycheck.After doing my budget, it looks like I gots about six mo' months of that before I break even and start back on the up-and-up. F-in AmeriCorps. I'm still paying for that year of poverty. The frustration courses through my veins.

But hell. It's more than I was making last year. I'm such a bright-sider.

Alicia is doing something that kicks ass. She is blogging about anyone who makes a donation to the Haiti relief fund. Check it out at http://aliciajessop.blogspot.com. And donate. Girl's got a lotta writing to catch up on. I'm making two donations. I accidentally donated through my company phone on their bill (Whoops!) and then I'm going to donate after I get paid tomorrow. They're saying the death toll might be around 50,000 people. 50,000. That's incomprehensible. It takes any sort of applicable words away.

I dont like what facebook is anymore. But I still inexplicably bound to it. It's all about statuses now. It's like extended twitter and everyone plays that retard-o Farmville game or Mafia wars or whatever. It's pointlessness grows on a daily basis. Sometimes, I wonder if I'll ever be able to rid myself of all this bullshit. The truth is I probably never will.

And if one more person talks about how much 2009 sucked ass, they can kiss mine. I'm so over the negativity. No one cares anymore. Move on, PLEASE!

I'm in a weird mood. I think I'm gonna call it even for the day. Hopefully, better stuff next time.

My last refusal of 2009.

2009-12-31T19:55:00.002-05:00

It's been a year.

Some people like to reflect on the 365 yesterdays of the upcoming yesteryear. The same people like to try to resolve some of the issues that occurred in that twelve-month period. And say that in the new year, they're actually going to be different that they were before, and in all honesty, I know myself too well to say that change begins here and now.

The true fact of the matter is the shit that you actually have the control to change typically happens in very small pieces. And the shit that is beyond your control usually changes as quickly as a slap across the face.

For instance, I used to get so stoked to party my face off on nights like this. But, you know, I worked all day. I've been moving shit into my new apartment. I didn't sleep that well. And it used to only be like "Oh, I'll go out but I'm not going to take shots" and then the whole gluten bullshit threw me into "Well, I cant really drink beer" and then I got so shitty on Halloween that I was like "maybe I shouldnt blackout anymore" and now its New Years and I'm sitting on my couch and getting up feels like too much effort let alone trying to transform my general plainness into a human being who's borderline worth looking at. Which usually takes more effort than I care to admit, and when drinking heavily, that effort quickly ends up being frizzy hair, eyeliner smudging underneath my eyes, and a minor mental breakdown due to over-boozing.

Change happens in small pieces, people. I went from Eddie Murphy's "Party All the Time"...

Eddie Murphy feat Rick James - Party All The Time
Uploaded by maxorel. - Watch more music videos, in HD!

...to Celine Dion's "All by Myself" and it took about a good year and half for this process to occur. And the thing about this kind of change is that it wasn't even pre-meditated. It just happened. Yeah. I'm not saying I never party, but I am saying that I dont do it like I used to. Now, I usually do it by myself. And now that I'm living alone...well, its all downhill from here.

Just kidding. Anyways...

In conclusion, New Years 2009/2010 is going to be spent in a large sweatshirt and a pair of leggings (I know, the ultimate 'I'm staying in' outfit. For men and women.) And my mom brought over champagne. And my sister and I are going to sit on the couches and bitch at eachother while simultaneously yelling at the cats and being borderline drunk. I refuse to reflect and I refuse to resolve.

Happy indifferent New Year, everyone.

Recap of 2009: Blog-nerd Style

2009-12-28T21:31:00.001-05:00

In the words of Ice Cube, today was a good day.

I'm still in the midst of my first rotation as a management associate at my company. If I havent explained what it is, basically, I get out on the floor of the plant where I work, learn how to run the machines, and hang out with all the sweet people that I call co-workers. It's like an extended intro to everything the company does, and I do this for three months. And then I move into a full 6-month rotation that is more business-oriented. In between there, I'll fly down to Texas to be inundated with corporate awesomeness. Wherever did my idealism go? Oh right. AmeriCorps. (That one's for you, Kiangster.)

On this fine Monday, I worked on this huge machine that basically cuts shit out. Like if you've ever owned a folder in your life, this is prob the machine that cut your folder out before it had to go to the next machine to get glued. Did you even think about that process? No? Me either. Until I started this job. Highlight of today: "Come Sail Away" by Styx comes on the radio. Me and Steve-o have an epic sing-along while the machine pumps out 4200 folders an hour. That piano intro is on repeat in my mind right now. And I love it.

In other news, I also made the deal. THE deal. The new apartment is FOUND. And as of Wednesday, it will be leased! I'm more than excited. I'm ecstatic. Maybe I'll post pics a year from now when I'll actually be able to afford to furnish it. Just kidding. A little bit.

And in the spirit of the New Year, I decided to post ten of my most irrelevant blentries that I wrote over the past ten-ish months. So for those of you who really dont have a life, bon voyage. Into my thoughts.

Hundred Day. My attempt at bringing back MySpace quizzes.

The Resurrection of an Old Facebook Note Remember when that stupid "25 facts" thing was going around facebook? I wrote a special one for my best friend.

The Story of Big Game James The Boston girls and I take down a Major League Baseball pitcher. And we learn the meaning of the word "road beef".

Dont ask me for shit. Last May, I had my first annual Rumspringa. In the words of Weird Al, "It's hard work and sacrifice, living in an Amish paradise."

I really want to punch someone... I need anger management. But not really.

Top ten celebs I love to hate My sister doesn't think I'm funny. So when she told me this was funny, I believed her.

Things I really like about baseball Self-explanatory.

The grade that everyone should be allowed to skip I won honorable mention in a humor essay contest for this one. Def a fave.

The Plight of the Uncool My self-deprecation reaches an all-time high. Or low. You decide.

The Woes, Blows, and Oh-No's of Online Dating Yep. I went there.

Enough reading for everyone? Yeah. Thought so.

And if I dont write again this wk, which is a serial possibility...HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Update Ya'll

2009-12-24T17:58:00.000-05:00

Christmastime, oh Christmastime. You reach deep within my pockets and fail to reach my low expectations. How I love you.

So this month has gone by fast for me. How 'bout for you guys?? Between working through my production stuff at work, sleeping, and occasionally being dragged around to various things by friends, well, I havent had much time to myself. And not having time to myself is a crazy-making process. As if I didnt have enough crazy to begin with.

But alas! The end is in sight! As I have found a place to call home and within a month I will be living in a glorious apartment in the Stapleton area of Denver! It's practically Aurora!

The apartment is pretty kickass. Stainless steel appliances and a sweet kitchen. An awesome bedroom setup. A sick clubhouse/fitness center. Covered parking beneath the building. And a big-ass pool so I can get my tan on in the summertime. Plus, rent that made me want to go shopping because I'll be able to afford to. It's pretty much a sweet deal. And I'm pretty much ready to get out of this place and have some...solitude. I can barely even fathom what thats like anymore. After years of roommate hell, finally my own place. Sweet baby Jesus Christ in a manger. I'm going to love this.

In other news, I started writing as the Denver Comedy Examiner for Examiner.com. Another reason why this bloggy has gone a little neglecty. It's awesome. Because I get to go to events, sometimes for free, interview comedians, and write about something that I really do love. And I'm forced to laugh on a wkly basis. That is a very good thing. Check it out. And please subscribe.

I know I have some stories I can tell, but I've gotta start on my shit-to-do-for-Christmas list before its too late.

Oh wait...it probably is.

Bed before 10pm.

2009-12-01T23:49:00.002-05:00

You know how people say there is kind of like this bell curve with life and eventually you peak and then you start headed back towards a state of infancy? I think I might have read that in the book Tuesdays with Morrie, which is such a good book but who really admits to reading it? Apparently, I do.

Well, in a weird way, I believe I'm heading back down the bell curve. I dont know when the last time that I went to bed before ten was, but I'm going to assume it was a) when I was sick so that doesnt count or b) when I was 7 yrs old.

But here I am at 25, unable to productively go through my day without eight hours of sleep, and as my newfound job status presses for early rising, I find myself having to force an early bedtime upon myself. The classic initial stage of regression before I need to start with the Depends.

So there's a quickie for the first day of December. I'm hitting the hay in a geriatric way.

Go. Bananas. B-A-N-A-N-A-S.

2009-11-30T01:01:00.005-05:00

I was doing so well for the month! And then, total crash and burn. Ah well. You win some. I lose alot.

Speaking of losing, I recently revamped my match.com profile and I've been catching alot of heat from the friendly men of Menver. Little do they know that I will most likely be using it against them as I did in Boston. I have to say, my two past blentries on online dating were by far my personal all-time-TFMM favorites and I've heard the same from some of you. May we recap? First it was The Woes, Blows and Oh-No's of Online Dating in Marzo, and then it was Online Dating: Revisited in April. It's a nice double hit because not only am I baring the idiocy of my own attempt at online dating, but baring the idiocy of the many d-bags that tend to go the match route. Well, as soon as I break out of my mom's house and into my own place, I'm sure that I will start checking out what D-town has to offer. So be prepared, I will come bearing gifts in the form of stories. And usually, hanging out with people you dont know or trust is a great way to develop things like that. I dont know about you guys, but I'm excited.

I have to say that this wkend might have been pretty uneventful, but during the times where it was eventful, it was a really great kind of eventful. I would like to thank my good friend AJ for putting together a hilariously awesome and drama-free bar crawl on Friday night that actually ended up being one of the very best nights I've had in a long while. I was a little worried when I saw a time frame beginning at 6pm and ending past midnight because, well, I've been out of the scene for awhile. But I managed to hold it together. I think between the fact that I was wearing an afro wig with huge glasses and the fact that all I really wanted to do was DANCE, it was pretty easy to stay focused on having fun. I had no idea that looking so weird would lead to such a fantastic night.

But I feel like I should have known, because Halloween is my fave holiday and we threw theme parties out the wazoo in college. Looking weird was a basic part of my college agenda, after all. I do have to say that I was relatively disappointed with the commitment of my friends to follow through on the theme, as only two out of twenty of us themed it up the entire time. But after the magnitude of the fun that I had, I'm ready to dress like a weirdo every time I go out.

I know, it seems a little counterproductive, right? People go to the bars to meet people, and oftentimes, to try and impress other people, most of which are total strangers. Fortunately for me, impressing people is not an area of my life that I put a ton of effort into. At least in the aspect of going out. And I know enough people, so I might as well work on freaking out the rest of them. I've had this real desire lately to buy a banana costume. And I kind of have this weird brewing goal of being known as "Banana Girl" out in the bars in Denver. I think it could be awesome in a way that is fun-focused, not cool-focused.

I'm gonna think about it. Maybe I'll pull a few other people in with me as well. And we can all...

GO BANANAS!

Jetsetting...

2009-11-23T00:32:00.003-05:00

Oh my god. It's 10:30 and I'm tired. What is this?

I guess it could be culmination of a whirlwind wkend in Los Angeles with the mom and the sister. Yeah. That might be the problem. Also, working on getting into sleep mode as the 6am Monday through Friday wake-up call is now in effect for, oh, forever.

What's weird is that I dont mind being up that early. I just mind the process of getting up. If that makes any sense. I guess I just dont like being warm and cozy and then having my bare feet hit hardwood floor. Maybe thats my problem. Who knows?

Anyways. LA was great. So great. If you took away traffic it might be paradise. I could do without all the hipsters trying to win big in the city of shattered dreams, but the only place that my idea of perfection exists is somewhere on a beach in Mexico and I currently don't have the time or money for that.

And the timing was pretty unbelievable. Literally as we are boarding our flight for LA I get a text from the one and only Alicia Jessop with the news that she passed the California bar on the first try. Ladies and gents, that is NOT an easy thing to do. In fact, it is very very hard. And upon that note, she also automatically receives a $20 raise. Per hour.

So not only did I get to personally congratulate Alicia on immediate arrival in SoCal, I got to take her out with my mom and my sister and celebrate the awesomeness. Also, I was sucking up alot, because God knows I'll need a good lawyer at some point.

My wit is slowly being suckled away by the jaws of grown-up life. I think I need to iron my work clothes and hit the hay.

But we do have things to catch up on, so I'll see if I can fit you all into my sched. :)

First day jitterss+one minor catastrophe=A great first day

2009-11-16T21:45:00.004-05:00

If it can go wrong, it will go wrong.

This morning, I busted my ass out of bed at 6:15am, early for this girl, and did the whole bit in a way that was a little out of the norm. I threw on my business casual clothes, grabbed a cup of peppermint tea, and hit the 19 degree air with the words "Welcome to your new life" ringing soundlessly in my ears.

I'm driving to the first day at my new job. Where I have a 7:30am meeting with the President of my company. My car hits I-70 and suddenly, it starts to jar. Jar hard. I mean, I cant even get this baby into third gear and she is chugging like a frat boy at a keg party. Bad. This is real bad.

I threw on my hazards, felt panic begin to set in, and cursed at my 2007 Sebring for picking such a shit day to bag out on me. Really? Un-f-ing-believable. Yep. My car practically broke down on my way to my first day of work. I managed to chug along at about 15mph down I-70, praying that Whitey would make it all the way to work. Which she did. Much to my relief. And I walked into the office only ten minutes late. For my very first day of work. The epitome of class, I know. But luckily, the Prez took it all in stride, laughed it off, and the day got off to a great start.

And great is really the only way that I can describe this day. From beginning to end. If you told me three months ago that I was going to take a position in the commercial printing industry, I would have said "Um. What is that? And you think I'm going to do it? Okay..." but I'm excited to learn the ropes, to understand the biz side of things, and to be an asset at a company that wants me to be an asset. That hired me to be an asset. And they're willing to put three years of training into me to get me there.

Yes, please. I'll take it! And as I'm always one for telling tales, well, the coincidence of my car breaking down on my first morning of work, it makes for a pretty good first-day-on-the-job story.

The gdamn Sebring. Unreal. I guess that's what I get for putting 40,000 miles on it in less than a yr and a half...

Not Cool.

2009-11-15T23:48:00.002-05:00

Among the list of "things that are not cool" in my book is blogging twice in one day. But I just got some knowledge dropped on me and I feel like showing and telling. Or something like that.

So as of this past summer, some of you's might remember that I had the unfortunate affliction of Lyme Disease. And since my unfortunate tick incident, my relationship with food has been startling different.

Now, in all of my naivete, I attributed the majority of my issues to a couple things. One, the horrific doxycycline that actually made me feel just as bad, if not worse, than the actual disease. And two, that I was just getting old and my digestive system was slowly dying.

Both of these are probably true in some respect. But after the few months of agony, I decided to start cutting things out of my diet that I thought were maybe the root of the issue. So I cut out booze a few wks ago, and a few days after that, I realized that maybe gluten was also to blame. And after cutting out both of these, well, holy hell, I've felt a whole lot better.

Tonight I decided to do some research, because I'm a researchy-kinda person, and if I'm going to do something, I like having some sort of education about what I'm doing, how to do it, and how to explain it to other people when they realize that I'm a huge weirdo who is trying to avoid wheat at all costs.

Well, in a moment that struck me like a palm across my face, I came across the fact that gluten intolerance has been linked to Lyme Disease. And as I was once-upon-a-time able to consume pizza, pasta, and bread with a vengeance (I mean, by God, I am Italian), it struck me as weird that suddenly gluten was playing such a strange game with my stomach.

So it all makes sense now. And I'm going to have health insurance soon. And the first thing I'm going to do is go in there and tell them to fix me. Because I want to eat pizza. With refined flour crust. And bread. And other things like that.

But until that can happen again, and IF that can happen again, I'm going to follow this person who is now making my life sooo so much easier and doing all of my research on gluten-free Denver for me: http://gfindenver.blogspot.com/

Ugh. So annoying.

First Day on the Mountain

2009-11-15T17:25:00.004-05:00

Sunday, November 15th.

Today is my last official day before real-world corporate employment hits and I belong not only to myself but to a company. A corporation, rather.

So what better way to celebrate than to have my first day on the mountain? Brian and I got in a few hours at Copper Mountain, enjoying an interesting ADD-type of weather that went from blue skies to snow like every five minutes. Very strange. And being the first day of the season, I ate it hard twice.

First, coming off a lift. Which happens to me every time I begin my season. So embarrassing because that usually means that they stop the lift, holding up the entire line so people can crane necks and be like "Yep, that person is a moron." I mean, I laughed at myself a gratuitous amount as I'd predicted I'd fall at least once off the lift. But this one girl took it too far. She was laughing at me. Which is fine. But she was also wearing ski blades. If you dont know what ski blades are, they're basically the equivalent of a grown up wearing skis made for a toddler. So in all reality, she can laugh at me if she wants, but the joke was definitely on her.

The second bad fall I had was something I'd like to refer to as "The Buttcracker" because it really felt like my lower half was ripped from my upper half, and my neck and my ass took the full brunt of the situation. Thank God for the girl who picked up my goggles which were 20 yards behind me because I was pretty much incapacitated for a solid minute. I'd been going my version of Mach 9 (Which is probably painfully slow for the majority of people who are any good) got caught in some flat light, and caught my back edge pretty hard on a big tuft of snow that I just didnt see. Dont worry, a soft patch of ice was waiting for me on the other side of it. Nice and comfortable.

Anywho, the rest of that run I boarded pretty carefully. Brian could see me taking the end of that run from the base of the mountain, and when I got down, one of his first comments was "Did you take a bad fall or something?" Oh, you noticed? Yes. Yes I did.

Now. Aside from all of my mishaps, and there are many over the course of the season, there is something about the cold air and the snow and the general happiness of people at the mountain that sets life straight. I am pumped for the season. It should be a good one.

And tomorrow! 7:30am. Bright and early. Me in business clothes, putting on smiles and a firm handshake, and wondering what in the heck I'm getting myself into for the next three years!

Always an adventure :)

Freedom Friday

2009-11-13T11:59:00.004-05:00

Well, I've put in a damn good effort so far this month. Other than the first day of November, I only missed one other day on the blog (I think) due to a schedule that didn't even allow space for breathing room. Not too shabby.

The rest of the month will probably get a little hairy. As I start my new job on Monday and it looks like we're getting slammed with snow this wkend so if I'm not in the mountains I'll be pretty damn surprised.

The kitten has launched into a place where I'm pretty sure he's a little too comfortable with himself now. He is simultaneously attacking my head, meowing, and trying to bite his own tail. You really cant beat the entertainment factor on baby animals. They're pretty hilarious. We'll see how I feel in a week about the whole thing. I mean, it's cute now, but...

What else? Warren Miller was amazing. Amazing. Worth the 31 bucks and then some. It actually hurts to watch these people because they are so good at what they do and they are so passionate about it and it's what they live. And the entire time they're all talking about how great it is to live a life that is fulfilled and how much they appreciate it.

Hmm. Must be nice.

Other than that, I don't really have much to say today. And I definitely dont have anything interesting.

So I'm going to do you a favor, and get started on my last Friday of freedom.

Snowvember comes into effect on this, the 12th day of...

2009-11-12T13:27:00.006-05:00

Snowvember.

It's 11:30 in the am and today I have officially accomplished the most important to-do's of my winter list. I bought my Copper/Winter Park pass.

Ohhh Copper...And helloooo Winter Park..If you're not jealous, I can only assume that you too bought either the Rocky Mountain Superpass or something equally awesome this year. Congratulations. I'm looking forward to a good year with a lot of powder. Couple this pass with a few days in Aspen, possibly a Utah trip, and I'm sure I'll be hitting Breck and Keystone at some point...well, I'm excited for the winter. Colorado has alot to bring to the table on that end, and I've been looking forward to snowfall that I can actually take advantage of for way too long.

And tonight, I'm going to see Warren Miller.

I think that's from last year. But either way, YES. Also, you get a free day at Steamboat with your ticket. $30 for a movie AND a pass to Steamboat? I'm excited.

And also, I went to this movie too last week...which was a tele ski movie called Flakes by a company called Powder Whore.

Now. I think tele skiing is pretty weird. Especially when you see the assholes going down the slopes with their perfect lunge-y style. And also, their general hippie-ish unattractiveness doesnt sit well with me. (Sorry tele-skiers) but that movie was actually beautifully shot and pretty fun to watch.

I'm the first one to admit that I'm the last one to be doing anything cool. But there really is nothing like a good day on the mountain. It just seems to put everything else into perspective, and somehow negate whatever else is going on in life.

I cant wait. It's going to be a good winter.

Because I'm proud to be an American...

2009-11-11T19:39:00.005-05:00

Do kittens come with return policies? Just kidding.

Alright. No more cat talk. After all, today is Veteran's Day and I think I need to thank the troops. Because that seems to be the cool thing to do on this particular Wednesday. Oh, and because they do amazing things for us every day. And basically for the past however many years this country has existed.

So here's my thanks to all of you guys who protect America and all of that awesome stuff:

I feel like Ali G just says it so much more eloquently than I ever could. Hear me now.

Anyways. I definitely appreciate Veteran's Day, Memorial Day, Labor Day, and all of those other holidays that usually give me a day off of work/school/whatever I'm currently involved in to honor whoever particular holiday that day belongs to. But did you know that Veteran's Day was initially Armistice Day, marking and remembering the end of World War I as the War to end all Wars?

Well, obviously, that didn't happen. Wars have been a pretty obvious constant over the course of recent history. So Eisenhower switched Armistice Day to Veteran's Day in 1954. Veteran's Day also has a history of shifting dates to the fourth Monday in October. Which makes sense. Because a long wkend is infinitely better than having Wednesday off in the middle of the week. But hey, who am I to dictate when Veteran's Day should be? After all, I've never donned a uniform representing my country and taken on the many responsibilities that come along with that honor. In my opinion, you guys are the balls of this institution.

And maybe Veteran's Day is simply about minding the stepchildren. Wait...is that totally wrong?

Or how about...respekking?

So here's to Baumann, Hugh, and all the other amazing people I know that dedicate their lives to something so much greater than themselves. Thanks guys. You're awesome.

When I'm with The Wizard...

2009-11-10T17:59:00.007-05:00

Well, that was serious. Or maybe seriously awkward. The previous post, I mean. Jesus. What am I babbling about?

In short, I did it.

Did what? You might ask. There are a lot of firsts that I haven't yet experienced. A serious relationship. A trip to South America. Being financially stable. Understanding things like "math".

What I did was none of those things. Though I should look into them at some point. What I did today...was get my own kitten!

Yep. I've basically given up on all that is good. And I have officially gone the route of the cat.

To preface this, I would like to say that if I had the time, I'd probably have adopted a dog. I wouldn't particularly call myself a cat person, although I do appreciate their curious independence and everything else they bring to the table. For those of you that severely dislike cats, I get it. They arent for everyone.

But as I approach the financial ability to afford my first apartment, I wanted a buddy to come along for the ride. And as I had the opportunity today to take home a kitten that I met on the very first day of its life. Well, I jumped on board.

Everyone, meet The Wizard.When I first met The Wizard at one day old, he looked like a rodent with lilliputian bear ears. The thing that immediately stuck out was that a) he was the fattest one and b) he had a perfect white face, a white belly, four white paws and a little white tip on his tail. I knew he was the one.

I think the way the name came around was from a random shuffle mix coming on my Ipod featuring one of my fave songs from the musical Wicked, called "The Wizard and I". I guess I just knew from the beginning that that was his name. Although he does look very much like Sylvester le cat...And after looking at the cartoon, he does have a very eery resemblance. But the name sticks. As I've never met another cat named The Wizard, and hopefully I never do.

So before I appear to everyone as a freaky cat lady, which I might have a slight tendency towards anyway, I better be going. I have a 6-wk-old kitten to play with.

The Only Question I Didn't Anticipate

2009-11-09T15:27:00.006-05:00

Well, my life as a bartender officially ended last night. And my life in the commercial printing industry officially begins a week from today.

So I've basically got these seven days to sit around and ponder what my life is going to be like a week from today, a month from today, a year from today, and so on.

I had a strange realization this past week. I've been busting my ass so hard to try and get by that I never really considered what I wanted to do beyond getting by. And with my up-and-coming hood-richness, well, I guess it's time to develop some personal goals and some professional goals.

I had a question come up in my interview that I don't think anyone has ever asked me in an interview before, and that question was "Where do you see yourself in five years?" And in my mind, I was like, holy crap, I've never really even considered where I wanted to be five years from now. I've been so wrapped up in the present that I haven't really taken the time to think about the future.

So I bumbled out some answer about financial success and all of that kind of stuff but it was such a foreign concept that I think it really did come out as bumbling. And then today, I was reading my all-time favorite blog (http://postsecret.blogspot.com) and I came across this postcard:

And underneath it someone answered: I am a prisoner of my own indecision.

There are secrets each week that profoundly resonate with me. And this one just really caught me off guard.

It's been ten years since my dad passed away this month. Ten years. I think to a degree it's difficult to not experience some sort of victimization when you've experienced loss in your life. Everyone falls for their own delusions about the way that their life is or was supposed to be, and I don't count myself out of that number. I think on many levels I've been able to find excuses for things or for people or for whatever is going on in my life. That constant sort of self-rectification serves its purpose in some situations.

But to grow as a person, I think it's time to set myself apart from this mindset, that ten years was enough, and that I'm capable of growing in a way that is productive and honest and whatever else it needs to be. I want my decisions to empower me, not imprison me. And from here on out, I feel like indecision needs to fall by the wayside.

So. For the next five years, my personal goal is to step outside of the victimization of my past and build a future based on self-worth, self-respect, and self-discipline. And I feel that if I can continue to develop those three attributes, that my professional life will follow in a way that is clear-cut and lucrative.

I'm pretty excited about it. Here's to positive growth in all aspects of life over the next five years and hopefully a lifetime. For me and for all of you.

Godspeed, friends.

Some pics for the people....

2009-11-07T18:26:00.008-05:00

Ok. Ok. Ok.

In accordance with Nicole's Month of Challenges, I have to write a blog entry. So instead of writing, I want to share some of my all time fave pics with everyone. Easy peasy.

Liv dressed as Superman...just for fun...and I've posted this pic probably everywhere I could

My mom and I are caught in a candid moment of my college graduation. Awwwww.

Me with the men's polo string for Nationals in Texas in 2005. I love every one of these horses...Rain, Espi (hiding behind Rain) Bella, Stinco, Zac, and Drifter...I'm pretty sure but I'm sure Liv will correct me on some of these. That was a great trip!
Bari and Amanda hopped on the swing post one of our lacrosse games at Camp Wayne, and I snapped this awesome shot of my fave view of camp.

Boca enjoying the gorgeous scenery of Colorado. Nice shot, Liv.

Ok. Gotta run! More of these to come eventually...I kinda like sharing photos!

"Hood rich"

2009-11-06T18:19:00.007-05:00

Welp. It's Nov. 6th and so far so good on the blog. My month of sobriety is very much intact. And I've been re-evaluating my food choices to try and reflect a more sustainable approach to eating.

Wait. Did I just become a blogging non-drinking tree-hugging semi-vegetarian? Eww. I hate myself right now.

It's a strange feeling to be on the brink of a very big change. Liv asked me the other day if I was gonna get "hood rich" with my first big check. I think the obvious answer to this would be yes if I wasn't using that check to put a deposit on an apartment.

Then, I was thinking about all the frivolous shit that I could really get "hood rich" with.

I could pimp out the Sebring. Turning my hot ass sedan into a pimped out ride with spinners, butterfly wings, and a sound system that would make a baby go deaf. Exhibit A:

Oh wait. I forgot about the 90 inch lift.

Other things I could go hood rich on. A month-long supply of my favorite drink, the Ghetto Mimosa.

Better known as Alize mixed with champagne.

Hmm. What else? How about front row seats and backstage tickets to the next R Kelly show, wherever the self-proclaimed King of R&B is playing at the time.

Chapelle Show: R-Kelly Piss On YOU - watch more funny videos

God. That R Kelly. So damn smooth.

What else? Oh man. I could always stock up on pit bulls a la Michael Vick, start my own record label, and try to get on the show Cribs or maybe even Real Housewives. So many things are going through my mind right now.

I guess we'll just have to wait and see.

Resolutions are nice.

2009-11-05T11:52:00.006-05:00

Well. I didn't want to write about it earlier for fear that it might magically disappear or be some sort of dream or maybe I was just kidding myself.

But none of the above were true. And I recently spoke with the President of my new company, and I start on November 16th. At 7:30am.

Hello, wake up call.

So for those of you who have been following me for awhile, A) I'm sorry. The past few months have been more of a soul search through my quarter life crisis than anything funny or observant and B) I feel like I at least owe it to you guys to give you the resolution to the QLC, so that we can all move on to hopefully funnier and more interesting topics than myself. That's more than Where the Wild Things Are did for me, and God knows that I love a happy ending. Let's jump on this train.

I initially found out about this job through the Colorado State University Career Fair. What struck me first was the fact that it was less a job, more a development program. A leadership one, at that. I delved into my research on the group of companies that stood out, and the more I learned about this particular position, the more it felt in line with not only my previous experiences but my future professional goals.

The fair went great. I spoke with the Associates manning the table, and set up my initial screening interview for the next morning. The next day went very well. The two girls I met with were awesome and easy-going, and I walked out of the room with the feeling that things were going very well.

Shortly thereafter, I received an email from the national corporate division requesting my GPA. The CSU listing had said 2.8 minimum. This girl had a 2.7 GPA. So I wrote an email, explaining my collegiate circumstances, why I had a 2.7 GPA, etc and within 48 hours, I received a polite rejection letter from the company. Serious, serious burn.

Well, I felt the rejection based on GPA was unjustified. And some person named Liv told me to stand up for myself in the situation. So I put on my most eloquent pair of pants, and wrote an email to the national director, explaining my situation and that I didnt buy into the belief that GPA was reflective of someone's ability to succeed on a professional level.

The funny thing about this is that I wasnt expecting a call back. But about two weeks later, that's exactly what I got. A call back, inviting me to the second round of the interview process. It would be a day-long interview, meeting with multiple staff members of the local commercial printing company I had specifically applied to. I was beyond happy to accept.

October 28th. Interview day. I look out my window and there is at least six inches of snow on the ground and more coming down. They called and gave me the option to cancel. No. Way. After three weeks of anticipation, I made my way through the snowy highways, out to I-70 and Chambers, and was on their doorstep at 8:45am.

The day was awesome. I toured the facility. Met, interviewed, and had lunch with the current Associates. And spoke with two VP's and ended my day with the President.

My fave moment of the day came with my last interview with the Prez. Apparently, my email response had been emailed to him after going through the director, and he told me flat out that he had gotten a 2.5 GPA in college and that what mattered was the diploma. Not how you got there. Yes. I like this guy.

I walked out of that place with the inner knowledge that I had nailed it. And two days later, I received a call from corporate verifying this knowledge.

I'll probably cry when I receive my first paycheck. First, because it will be the best one I've ever received. And second, because all of it is going to go to bills and a security deposit on an apartment.

I will also cry when I have to get up at 5:45am to get ready for work. This is new, uncharted territory for me. But I'm looking forward to it. I'm ready to dive into the real American work ethic, and see what's out there for me. Hopefully, a great experience with an awesome company that ends up being more lucrative than I could have imagined.

Sigh. But a very relieved and a very excited one.

Well. This makes me angry.

2009-11-04T19:14:00.009-05:00

Alicia and I have had our agreements. We've also had our disagreements.

Our latest disagreement, however, is one that I just cant see her side. After the multiple explanations, the phone calls convos, and the wall-to-wall's, well, Alicia, you've really gone off the deep end with this one.You guys know these people, right? Well, if you don't, I'm going to enlighten you.

You might initially think that the crazy woman with a baby might be running a daycare. You'd be sorely mistaken.

All 19 of those kids came out of that incredibly and horrifically fertile woman, thanks to that undeniably fertile man standing next to her.

Sorry. I just vomited in my mouth a little bit.

If there is anything that I truly put my faith in, it's the fact that we as human beings have a social responsibility to the world and to each other. This is after years of religious indoctrination from forces that I had absolutely no control over. IE My parents, the ex-ministers. At the moment, I'm an agnostic. Which means I'm undecided, like in so many other areas in my life. I personally believe that organized religion has done enough destruction for a force like myself to be a part of it. This is all stuff that's neither here not there, so let's get straight to the point.

The Duggar family is currently letting God determine the number of children they're blessed with. What the Duggar family is doing is not an act of God. It's an act of irresponsible intercourse.

I don't care that they have the means to support nineteen kids. I don't care that they're a loving family that raises their kids in a manner that is completely respectable. I don't care that they make Jon Gosselin look like the anti-Christ, which you think I would like, because I dislike Jon Gosselin even more than I dislike this family.

Why nineteen. We live in a culture that is so incredibly indulgent. That says if I can, why shouldn't I? I can afford nineteen kids, therefore I shall have them. We value independence above all. To each their own. And all of that other bullshit. But in it, we lose the collective.

It's the principle of the issue that bothers me.

They're also teaching all of these brainwashed babies that you shouldn't kiss until marriage. But after marriage, it's apparently no-holds-barred. And they all be populating the state of Arkansas until Duggar is the last name of every Arkansan in the state.

You know, I'm pretty good about containing my political feelings, my religious feelings, all the things I know could cause contention. Especially in the so-called blogosphere. But I have a serious issue with things being done "in the name of God" because the things done "in the name of God" are usually incredibly thoughtless, illogical, and impractical for the greater good of humanity.

These kids are going to consume. They are going to reproduce. And the likelihood that all or any of them are going to ever do it in a way that is logical or based on something other than religious indoctrination is incredibly minimal. I think having 19 kids is shameful. And incredibly irresponsible on so many levels.

So I apologize for the broad generalizations, and the pointing of fingers, and whatever else. I just really needed to get that one off my chest.

Thank you, National Blog Posting Month. And sorry, Alicia. I'm sure we can agree to disagree. :)

Sharing my bar-tenderness with all of you...

2009-11-03T17:09:00.004-05:00

It's Day Two of Nicole's Month of Challenges, and so far, so good.

I've abstained from alcohol for over 48 hours. I haven't eaten anything that I know to be unsustainable. And once I finish this I will have blogged in every day of November so far. I know. It's not even close to being impressive yet. Nor will it ever be impressive.

However, I already feel a little oppressed. The smell of bacon in the kitchen at work this morning taunted me in a way that I haven't felt since the bullies of yesteryear tormented me about, well, whatever they could. It set my mental wheels in motion, and I decided that out of all meats, bacon would probably be the hardest to give up. The crisp chewiness. The divine saltiness. The fatty goodness. Fuck sausage. Fuck "canadian bacon" or HAM as we call it here in the land of honesty. No other breakfast meat holds up and compliments other meat in such a fabulous and effortless manner. Bacon literally makes everything better. I bet a bacon and maple syrup-based ice cream could outsell mint chocolate chip every day if made right. Hmm. Million dollar idea? Perhaps.

Plus, I get a small twinge of sadness at the end of my bar shift when I cant partake in the joy that is the shift drink. I usually concoct some weird ass mess of booze or beer and whatever we have around the bar in an attempt to find something spectacular. My two favorites are as follows:

Root Beer Float:

-1 big part Stoli Vanilla vodka

-1 small part IBC root beer

-1 small part Baileys Irish

Shake over ice. Pour as shot or dessert drink. I prob didnt make this up, but I will take credit. Thank you very much.

Spicy Pirate:

-1 Coors Light Draft, filled almost to top

-Splash of tomato juice

-Splash of pepperoncini juice

-1 whole lime, squeezed directly into beer

-2 shakes of salt and pepper

The salt finishes off the beer in a way that I'm currently in disbelief that I'm denying myself this drink. Holy crap. It's real good.

Also, it's sadly my last wk as a bartender. So I might have to take ONE for the team and cheers my last shift with a pirate beer...Geez. This challenge is already beating me up.

We'll see where I'm at tomorrow.

Fave Things of the 1st Week of Snow-vember

2009-11-03T00:47:00.007-05:00

1. I'm in the money. Not yet. But I will be soon. Yep. I've got my full-time job that has career path written all over it. But if I'm aiming high, maybe one day a corner office. Yeah. I think that would be a pretty good deal for me. Windows. Views. Dollar dollar bills. My friend said he was sad because poverty made me funny. Well, my retort is if poverty made me funny, I'm interested to see what money actually does. Although humor is my biggest defense mechanism. So maybe he's onto something. I guess we'll find out. I'm not too upset about it. Next.

2. Detox. I'm giving my liver a break from booze for the duration of November. I overdid Halloween. I know. Most people do. But I think I need to take it back to square one. And also save some money before the 'big-to-me' dollars start rolling in. A month without a single drop of booze. I have had some pretty dry months. But I dont think I've played it that solid since before I stepped through the pearly gates of college. Can I do it? Well, I can at least try. And if I cant do it, we'll call AA together. Plus, I look like crap right now. I think it's time to get it together for once.

4. Being socially responsible. With my mouth. I'm also going to be looking into more sustainable ways of eating this month. It should be interesting. I've been reading a lot lately on how food choices affect the environment, and I want to delve deeper into the scientific aspect of eating in a way that's socially responsible and not the PETA-hippie-actress-'but the animals have feelings' kind of approach. I might write about it on here, but dont expect any preaching. If anything, it will be me griping about how much I miss chicken pumped with hormones or cattle who lived in boxes or puppy farm dogs or something like that.

3. It's Always Sunny. Of course, I'm always an advocate for IASIP. But the Kitten Mittens episode is on this week and I'm looking forward to it in a way that I hope I'm not disappointed. So far, this season has been pretty spectacular. I particularly enjoyed the World Series episode as well as their recap of previous episodes. Like where Dee and Charlie eat 'human meat' and Frank has delusional flashbacks of his life as Rambo. I still encourage all of you who haven't seen Seasons 1 through 3 to check them out. Specifically "Charlie Gets Crippled" "Mac Bangs Dennis's Mom" and "Hundred Dollar Baby". The character development in the initial stages of the show is phenomenal, and I think you get a lot more hilarity out of present episodes by understanding the entire backstory. God. I love that show.

4. Oh wait. And The League. I'll admit it. I was skeptical. A show about fantasy football. Yeah f-in' right. I watched it wanting to hate it. But by God it works. And it works in a way that I'm hooked on a Sunny level. The first episode...brilliantly funny. I cant wait to learn more about these guys. Especially The Oracle. That kid rules. Also, Mark Duplass is now on my list of guys to stalk in Hollywood. Love him.

5. Colorado. You east-coasters have been asking me about the snowstorm we got last week. Well, remember when I told you guys that snow melts in Colorado? I meant it. And I got a fast reminder of why I love this city when three days after a 2-footer snowstorm I was back in flip-flops, tees, and sunglasses. I'm getting the Rocky Mountain Superpass this wk and I couldn't be more excited. Copper. Winter Park. Here I come. I can just taste the knee injuries waiting to happen. I'm psyched.

6. National Blog Posting Month. Alicia clued me in to this. And I'm all about it. Because if I'm not going to be out causing problems in society, then I might as well be in writing about things that dont matter to anyone. So AJ, I'm declaring November Nicole's Month of Challenges and I too will write every day in order to honor the national recognition of me and others like me flaunting our unimportantness and being a general menace to workplaces around the country. I'm going to assume that the vast majority of my small readership occurs from 9-5pm in places where people generally have nothing better to do than read blogs. I'm not judging. I think it's probably the reason the internet in general has succeeded. What a great place to fend off boredom and continue to secure our needs for instant gratification. What am I talking about again? I never know.

7. Close talkers. Just kidding. I hate close talkers. I have a personal bubble of like three and a half feet. My mom and sister will intentionally stand in my bubble just to screw with me. Try it sometime. I get really uncomfortable.

Ok. That's about enough of this stuff. Expect a lot of weirdness over the next month. It's time for my 180 from wherever I am right now.

Happy November friends!

Where the Wild Things Aren't

2009-10-18T13:38:00.007-04:00

Wow. I guess blogging is what happens when work isnt happening. I'm def not up to my old numbers while in Boston but eight this month already? I must be bored.

Speaking of boring, I pulled a total geezer wkend. Friday night...nada. Saturday night...Where the Wild Things Are.

If there is one thing that I can truly say about myself, it's that I disproportionately love childrens' movies. I saw Madagascar in theatres three times. I mean, I was working as a camp counselor, so I personally paid for only one of those times, but seriously. Three times. Love those penguins.

Amazingly cute.

I think part of the reason I lean towards kids movies is that in my eight years of working with kids on all levels, I've watched more movies on the clock than off, and the great, great majority of those were kids movies.

I did have to suffer through some bad ones. As much as I love the Madagascar penguins, I thought Happy Feet was a suck show. I kind of liked the Garfield movies much to my own disappointment. If I ever have to watch Cars again, I might have to jump off a bridge. And Legally Blonde 2 was basically an hour and a half bid for PETA with shitty cameras that made my stomach do somersaults.

Did I mention I get severe motion sickness in movies with bad cameras? I thought I was going to spontaneously combust after watching one of the Bourne movies in Aspen. The worst. Lord of the Rings...also horrifically hard on my stomach. We wont go into all the reasons for that.

Another aspect of childrens' movies that I love is that they can often tackle big issues in a way that leaves you feeling good. There's usually a nice, simple plotline, and a happy ending. I watch a kids' movie with the expectation that I'm going to walk away in a great mood.

I was looking for that last night. Where the Wild Things Are was one of my top books as a child. Granted, I haven't read it in years, but it still resonated with me after all that time. The movie looked good, uplifting, everything I needed last night.

In short, it wasnt. I walked away feeling that the main issues of the movie went unresolved. That the feeling of the movie was a bit dark overall. And I had a serious stomach ache from the shakey cameras on the giant wild things. The script felt substandard and I basically walked away being like "Hey, WTF?"

The main reviews said it was visually spectacular. I mean, I understand that. But what movie isn't visually spectacular anymore? I thought the Wild Things could have been done on a much less emo-kid level. And to be honest, if I had been a child under ten, I think the movie would have scared/upset me more than anything else. Also, prob would have left me just as confused as now, because if there's anything that kids want, its to be in-the-know and unfortunately, WTWTA left you seriously out of it.

Ugh. Apparently, this movie's underlying theme was supposed to be anarchy. A play against authority and authoritative figures. I can understand why anarchy could appeal to kids, if they knew what it was. Kids are always under the authoritative grasp of another individual. They should be. They're children. The directors/writers vehemently went away from the typical kids' movie. I guess thats what they wanted. And if it is what they wanted, they achieved it in a way that makes me want to get my money back.

Personal recommendation: If you really want to see it, go see it and decide for yourself. If you just want to see it, wait for it to come out on DVD. Then, you can at least shut it off in the privacy of your home. If you dont care, not worth the time/$$.

And that's my piece.

Personal crap that no one but me really cares about

2009-10-17T17:03:00.004-04:00

In the trials and tribs of my daily life, I often come across things that I'm like "Huh, well, I wonder if I hadnt have done/said/committed that act of atrocity, if things would be different."

I'm sure its something we all feel on a pretty regular basis. After all, we're only human, and we're all prone to little acts of self-destruction and unintentional disasters caused by actions that seemed reasonable, funny, or even something that might seem productive at the time.

For me, a lot of my self-inflicted pain comes from giving too much away. Whether it be in friendships, conversations, or just my general daily life. For example, while working at an unnamed pizza joint, I once put a $50 dollar bill in someone's change instead of a twenty, and they walked out with more money that they initially walked in with. A serious accident, but just another case of people being assholes when really they could have just been like "Hey moron, why dont you trade this in for a twenty?" and everything would have been fine.

God knows I'm good at taking a few blows. Rejection doesnt emotionally phase me like it did in my teens and early college years. What I have found more than anything is that it pisses me off and moves me to a seat of action. And I like that kind of motivation. Maybe it comes from the Italian side. I always feel the need to make offers that cant be refused. When refused, I persist. And often, persistence pays off.

Case in point: I was recently rejected from an interview process on the basis of something that I disagreed with. So I wrote the national director of the program an articulate and professional e-mail stating my thoughts on the matter, and I received a phone call last wk in which I was re-evaluated and invited for a second round interview with the top company on my list so far.

Booyakasha!!!

I mean, this is def one of the cases that turned out for the better. I know it isn't always that way, but maybe my incessant desire for closure or exposure is actually going to serve a great purpose in my life. I think sales might be the right track for me. And I'm growing increasingly confident in that fact.

Is this the solution to my quarter-life crisis? Have we reached some sort of head?

This looks like it might be a golden ticket, my friends. Let's do this.

A Conversation between Siblings at Midnight

2009-10-13T02:24:00.003-04:00

Let's preface this with the fact that I am currently living on my mom's futon. Not so comfy.

"I'm leaving."-Seester

"Where are you going?"-me

"To Dave's."-Seester

"Can I sleep in your bed tonight?"-me "No."-Seester "Why?"-me

"It's my bed."-Seester

"But I would let you sleep on my bed."-me

"I dont care. It's my bed."-Seester

"But we've been bonding!"-me

"My bed. No."-Seester

15 minutes later.

"You can sleep in my bed."-Seester

"REALLY?"-me

"Yes. You just cant use my pillow."-Seester

"But I have my pillow."-me

"Dont use any of my pillows. Especially the red one."-Seester

"I just told you I'd use my pillow!"-me

"Dont even touch any of my pillows."-Seester

"Um. Ok."-me

And this is how I conquered my sister and got to sleep in a bed for tonight.

For those of you that are only children, I know you're currently sick with jealousy.

Love you Seester :) THANKS!

"Talks too much"

2009-10-11T13:03:00.004-04:00

I dont know if you guys remember your elementary school report cards, but I sure do.

In my elementary school, Bluffsview Elementary to be specific, we didnt receive letter grades but a long series of checkmarks and computer-generated comments to describe our performance in the classroom.

For the most part, I was a straight check plus student. As much as I may be behind the game as a 25-year-old, I was pretty ahead of the game as an elementary student. When everyone else was reading "Run Dog Run" I was picking up chapter books and writing my own epic stories such as "The Bird and the Buzzing Bumblebee", I've always had a knack for consonance. Anywho.

My favorite part of the report cards were always the computer-generated comments. In things like phys. ed and art which were fun and entertaining, I was always a "pleasure to have in class" but in anything that required a high level of down time and perhaps a monotonous load of busy work, well, I often received the staccato'd quip of "talks too much". Which also means "This kid annoys the bejesus out of me" or "I basically make your kid sit out in the hallway for a good portion of the day". Both of which were true on some level. I could always find something to giggle about with classmates during quiet times, and I did spent a good portion of my elementary school career banished to the hallway for being a disruption to the class. And occasionally, I even got the dreaded "name on the board" so that everyone else would know that I was a trouble-making jackass.

I have a solid memory of my fifth grade teacher banishing me to the hallway, and then coming out when he had a minute, grabbing me by the shoulders and saying "You just have so much potential!! Why are you wasting it?!?"

I was moderately confused. My goals as an eleven year old were pretty simple. Enjoy being eleven. And try to do it without pissing off my parents. To be fair, this particular incident happened the day my teacher figured out that I'd been forging my mom's signature on my math homework for four consecutive months. So my parents were indeed pissed off at me, and I recall that I was banned from my brand new rollerblades for a month, a devastating blow when roller hockey was the biggest thing going on in the 'hood at that point.

That's all besides the point. That moment of shoulder-grabbing potential-wasting has stuck with me for about fourteen years. Every time I catch myself at a place where I feel behind the game, I hear Mr. Witt's voice ringing in my ears.

Potential. I've always lived in my own possibilities. If you would have asked me as that eleven year old where I would have been at 25, I probably would have had some concrete answer of where a 25 year old should be in life.

But here I am, with Mr. Witt's hands on my shoulders. Trying to figure out next-steps, and where I really want to go with life, and how in the name of a shitty economy I'm going to make that happen.

What an interesting time to be in my mid-twenties. The funny thing is is that I'm not worried. Que sera sera...and all that kind of stuff.

In the epic words of Solange Knowles, "bring it on."

Kickin' It Up a Notch at the Blue Canyon

2009-10-08T02:50:00.004-04:00

Life isnt always fair. But being a woman in Colorado has always had its perks. What am I talking about?

Ladies Drink Free nights.

It's an epic deal. All you have to do is be 21 and at least look like a chick and there are plenty of drink specials around town that set every dude within ten miles up for success if he shows up and plays his cards right.

Back in the good ol' days of college balling, AJ and I used to frequent our fave LDF night at the Buffalo Rose in Golden, CO. This usually ended up poorly, with me crying in the corner and Alicia getting kicked out for stealing a morocca. True story. Other LDF's included Wash Bar in FoCo on Thursday nights, which the Davistator, Liv, and myself abused in ways that left us all wondering what the hell had happened to our dignity and then remembered that, oh yeah, we drank for free. We drank alot. For free.

Things have changed in Golden. Instead of me being the one drinking, I'm serving the ones drinking. And instead of LDF, my old haunt The Blue Canyon has instilled the most ingenious theme night of all time. Wear a Skirt. Drink for Free.

I went to the Canyon tonight, skirted up, and in a typical show of the Colorado School of Mines, it was a straight-up sausage fest. Except these sausages were flowing in the breeze, because 95% of the dudes were wearing skirts.

I was the opposite of turned off. Freeballing took on a whole new meaning. I mean, these arent the crossdressers of Trinidad. These are conservative engineering majors liberating themselves from the ways of pants. And wearing skirts. Slutty skirts. Hippie skirts. Short and long skirts. Plaids. Stripes. Denim. Even dress skirts. I even saw a few taking it to a new level with leggings. I was impressed at the effort put into some of the outfits. They matched. They looked good. I couldnt stop staring, and for once, I felt like the dude in a room full of chicks in mini-skirts. Empowering on both ends.

I'm so impressed that I'll def be coming back for more. I like the egalitarianism going on here, and as much as I'd like to say that the LDF is a great thing, well, Wear a Skirt, Drink for Free easily blows it out of the water.

I'm proud to share my LDFs with guys who will step up to the plate in such a phenomenal manner. When Michael Bolton sang about going the distance, I'm pretty sure this is what he was talking about.

Well played, Blue Canyon. Well played.

Rocktober, Hollerween, and a few other things shakin like this

2009-10-06T18:20:00.004-04:00

So. We meet again.

As my life is currently a muddle of sleep, work, trying to find more work, and socializing, I have little time for the blog these days. I'll try to make more of an effort. Maybe. If I feel like it.

I forget how good life in Colorado is. It rained yesterday and I actually liked it. I needed a break from all the glorious sunshine, the flip-flops, the sun-kissed skin. And Denver rain in October means one very important thing...snow in the mountains.

Oh yeah baby. Looking westward today, this was the sight I saw. Mountains dusted with the first legit snow of the season. My heart skips a beat in anticipation of the best ski season of my life. How do I know its going to be the best? Well, my friends, I am scoring an Epic pass for the season...Breckenridge, Keystone, A-Basin, Vail, and Beaver Creek. And even Heavenly in Lake Tahoe if I get the urge to take this train to Cali for a wkend. I can taste the powder. I can smell the pine. Epic things await. Literally.

And this is also the year of El Nino.

Which means there is going to be snow in Colorado. And lots and lots of it. I just got goosebumps. This is going to be amazing. Thanks, Chris. You make my day with that oldie but goodie.

Another thing amazing is happening in the Big C-O. Rocktober. The Rockies are once again in the running for some championships if they can keep their shit together. I love living in a city where sports teams win, because that usually means that we all have an excuse to go out and celebrate something. And if there is anything in life that I love, it's celebrating pretty much anything.

Boston, on the other hand, well, they're used to winning stuff. Much less fun, I think. Obviously loved going to Fenway. And making fun of James Shields. But Denver is kind of a comeback kid. I like rooting for the underdog.

And in the midst of everything, my favorite holiday is right around the corner. Hollerween. And I'm debating costumage. Last year, it was a little less than stellar, as I recycled an old costume and made it into something new. Also, we had to walk from Southie back to Boston, which took a good three hours. Let me tell you, after mile three of wearing elf shoes, your Halloween buzz seriously wears off.

I'm thinking of doing my own version of Big Bird. Or possibly Oscar the Grouch. I had the idea of wearing Ed Hardy and going as Jon Gosselin. But WTF Ed Hardy/Christian Atelier-whatever your name is guy, your clothes are really f-ing expensive. And also really hideous. And I dont really feel like blowing a bunch of cash to simply douche it up for one night. If I'm going to do that, I'll just go as myself, thank you very much. God knows how I love to blow cash.

Eww. Sooooooooooo grooooosssssssss. But if I could score that shirt for like $20, I would SO do it. I think I might really have to do the Big Bird thing. It could be totally hilarious. And I might have to talk some friends into being my slutty Sesame friends.

So we'll just keep playing catch up. Sound good? Sounds good.

Whoa...Um...WTF? Also, love you guys.

2009-09-19T19:36:00.009-04:00

Let's talk about my blog counter thing, I mean, its not really that important to me. I only use it to gage my entire sense of self worth. The last time I checked a few weeks ago, I was somewhere around 5000 hits give or take. That was pleasing to me, considering that I used to check this thing like 60 times a day because, just like in my day-to-day life, I'm my own biggest fan. I figured that with that many hits at least one or two other people might check in on this thing occasionally. But recently something happened, and I'm a little confused.

I checked it today and I'm almost at 12,000 views. TWELVE THOUSAND! AHH! And I havent even been writing lately! What in sam hell is going on!!!!!

And I just want to know...who are you guys and where the f are all of you coming from? If you have any idea, leave me a comment or shoot me an email at pbjforever@gmail.com. And if you ask nicely, I might send you back the story of what a real PBJ is. But you must ask very nicely. :)

Also, I love you, and I want to hold you in my arms. Here's a kiss from me to you:Ohhhhh yeahhhhhhhhhhhhh!

Popularity. Fame. We all want it in some way or another. For me, I like popularity on the DL. And I like to make myself look like a total spaz. So being a popular blogger seems like a win-win situation for a weirdo like myself.

Anywho, thanks guys. I'm flattered. Enjoy the rest of your wkend. I'm going to be going out in Denver with a vengeance tonight, and hopefully I'll have stories to share shortly.

Keepin' On Keepin' On

2009-09-18T17:18:00.003-04:00

I havent given up. Yet.

That could apply to a number of things. Life, first and foremost. Somehow, I'm still on this planet although I'm constantly under the gun of my own mortality, driving cars, riding horses, over-imbibing on occasion, eating raw fish, microwaving my food, foregoing sunscreen, and whatever else is an obvious ticking time bomb in my daily grind.

Then there is ye old yob hunt, still in effect. So far, I've hit three interviews, been turned down by two, I have another scheduled for tomorrow, and a few prospects in lingo after a highly successful job fair. I scored my latest interview by filling out an online bartending application in a way that I thought no one would call. Has anyone ever called you and addressed you by your college nickname NiCoolio asking for a job interview? No? Oh right. That would be me. I guess sometimes being a general a-hole pays off, or at least makes some people laugh and think I might be good at working for and around drunk people. I know. I'm awesome.

So I havent given up on that either. Although this is by far the longest time I've ever had to sit on my ass and "do nothing" so to speak.

What else have I not given up on? Ah yes. Blogging. Unfortunately for you, you're still reading this. It's not even funny anymore but somehow your life has pulled you in this direction. Why? I dont know. But I'll appreciate your going along with my incessant need for attention.

And that need has sufficently dwindled since coming back to a civilization that is overrun with real-live human beings. I'm not forced into the awkward Bostonian relations of "Hello, I'm from Colorado, nice to meet you, please buy me a drink". Although I do miss a number of things about Boston.

The first and foremost of which is my freedom. Freedom. In all of its glory. I mean, Boston could be considered a sort of birthplace of freedom as a type of national ideal. I drank in the same bar that Paul Revere once frequented, err, at least it had the same name. I walked the cobblestone streets of JFK's childhood. I even touched the same phone that Matt Damon once did in Good Will Hunting. I'm practically famous.

What was I talking about? I dont really know. Except that I've been in living limbo for about a month now and my back has something to say about it. My mom's futon isnt particularly comfortable and I hate crashing on couches unless I'm obliterated enough to think the big pillows crowding one side of me are actually another human being that wants to cuddle. That rarely happens these days, and I'd like to add that it has been an overwhelmingly party-free presence since I landed in the Rocky Mountain state.

What I'm trying to say is that I miss having my own place. My own agenda. My own way of going throughout my day. There isnt much I can do for myself other than keep job hunting and harbor anger against AmeriCorps for taking so long to deposit my relocation check into my overdrawn account. I'm looking forward to making Denver my own city and not the city of couches. Which might not be a bad sequel to that movie City of Angels, minus Nick Cage, because if there is one actor that I truly TRULY hate, it's that guy. Also, Meg Ryan is a bimbo. And if it werent for the song "Uninvited" by Alanis Morisette, that whole movie would be a waste of time. In fact, I dont even think I've ever seen it.

Oh man, it really is one of those days.

And with that, back to the daily grind of...whatever it is I've been doing.

Winning isnt everything.

2009-09-07T15:48:00.004-04:00

It's the only thing. -Vince Lombardi

There are few things in life that get me more excited than having the excuse to publically taunt others. And there are few times in life when it is as openly permissible than at a college rivalry sporting event, such as yesterday's CU-CSU football game.

Now, I'm a Ram fan through and through; however, I never truly got into Ram football because, well, for lack of a better explanation, it was pretty abysmal. God love those guys, they tried. After growing up in Columbus where the Scarlet and Grey are a life force and college football is more necessary than oxygen for a tried-and-true fan, well, CSU just never really cut it for me.

I was thinking about all this yesterday as I taunted CU freshman while they were entering the game. And I came to a lightbulb conclusion. I really could care less for CSU football. It's the actual rivalry that matters. I love the hot-blooded mess of taunts and insults and blatant cheers. Being on the winning side is such an overwhelmingly satisfying feeling, because bragging rights dont die for another 365 days until it all happens again. And I know that for the next year, I can bring it up in matter-of-fact conversation among anyone that happens to be affiliated with Boulder. It's not about football. It's about ego.

And for those of you who dont know, CSU did take the cake this year. Finally. Back in the game. Fairchild is obviously doing something right, and I'm looking forward to at least semi-following them this season through other people's facebook statuses and judging his second-yr season solely on that.

The one thing that I will say is that Grant Stucker played a phenomenal game. The kid is a fifth-yr senior quarterback who has only thrown three passes in the total of his five yr career at CSU, and he led the team to our first win in Boulder in God knows how long. Talk about waiting for your moment in the sun.

23-17 isnt a bad way to win. And I was thankful, because my massive amounts of insults, shit-talking, and whatever else may or may not have happened would have easily been thrown back into my face ten-fold in a place where CSU fans were easily outnumbered 40-1. I'm just surprised that I only got one beer thrown on me and that nobody punched me in the face.

Win-win all around. Go Rams!

It's Hundred Day!

2009-09-04T15:51:00.005-04:00

I dont know if you guys remember 100 day in Kindergarten. I remember it like it was yesterday. In my classroom, we celebrated 100 day by making donuts that made the number 100. My mom came in to help. It was totally awesome, as was all things kindergarten.

So in light of my hundredth entry, I'm going to answer one of those abysmal quizzes that I used to get forwarded on myspace back when I had no dignity at all. Please dont read this.

Name::Nicooooooooole
Age:: Too old to care
Sex:: She's a lady woo-oh woo-oh whoa she's a lady
Height:: 5 foot 6 inches of awesome
Hair Color:: Brunette fro
Eye Color:: browny brown
Body Type:: Zaftig and nubile
Religion:: Agnostic
Ethnicity:: Italian, Irish, and a few other things that dont matter
Orientation:: Hetero
Status:: Single and ready to mingle
~Favorites~
Color:: Kelly green
Hair Style:: I live in the moment, curly, straight, dirty, whatevs
Food:: I'm italian. Give me garlic.
Soda:: Cream Soda
Alchoholic Beverage: Beer snob...and PBR
Store:: J Crew...when I can afford it...which is never
Mall:: I think I'll always love FlatIrons most
State:: Gotta say, love me some Colorado
City:: If only I could transpant Colorado weather on Boston...
Animal:: Ze polo ponies
Movie:: Elf/The 40 Yr Old Virgin/The Godfather/The Graduate/The Depahted
TV Show:: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia...THIRTEEN DAYS
Book:: The Education of Little Tree, The Fountainhead, How to Win Friends and Influence People
Music:: Texas Country, Hardcore Rap, Electronica, Adult Contemporary, Disney...seriously
Song:: Right now, ummm, Omen by Prodigy
Band/Artist:: La Bouche and Lady Gaga
Website:: http://nicoleq23.blogspot.com DUH!
~This or That~
Soda or Juice:: I love me my juice.
Music or Internet:: http://www.pandora.com
Rock or Rap:: Totally dependent on mood
Dogs or Cats:: I love Bocies. I love Teener. And I love Milo and Bashful.
White or Black:: I'm white? But I like black stuff?
Myspace or Bebo:: WTF is Bebo? I dont want to know. And I dont want either.
Cell Phone or I-pod:: Iphone? It's two things, all in one.
Curly Hair or Straight Hair:: Curls as of late
Lap-Top or Computer:: Laptop all day
Corded Phone or Cordless:: Land lines? Do those exist anymore?
Mountain Dew or Pepsi:: Neither. Gross.
Pen or Pencil:: Love my uni-balls. Take that as you will.
MP3 Player or I-pod:: Ugh.
Phone or Internet:: I-phone.
Single or Taken:: Redundant.
School or Work:: School. Give me school back. Also, I would like work.
~Random~
What do you do on your spare time:: Look for work. And drink away the rejection.
What do you wish you had more time for:: Nothing at the moment. All the time in the world.
Whats your usual clothing style:: Shabby chic. Minus the chic part.
Whats your usual hair style:: Pulled back, curly, natural dried
What are you wearing:: A skirt and tee, you saucy minx
Are you single or taken:: This is trying to make me cry.
If taken, by who:: Again, tears, rolling down my cheeks
Who would you die for:: I'm not Jesus. I die for no one.
Are you a virgin:: I forget these are written by high schoolers.
What do you think of one night stands:: Mmm go for it go for it
Whos your best friend:: I gots lots. But only one hetero lifemate. She knows who she is.
How long have you been friends:: SEVEN YEARS! GROOOOOOSS!
How did you and your best friend meet?: We met on our first day in the dorms at CSU
Do you have any pets:: Surrogate pets. Tiny, the beggar cat. Bocies, the college doggie. And Tina, the Jack Russell Terminator. Also, Bella, Molly, and Daisy Duker, the polo ponies.
If yes, how many?: Well, none that are my own.
Do you plan on getting married:: Do I? I mean, if its in the cards, then yes.
Do you plan on having kids:: Adopting small asian girls. Because they're the cutest.
If so, how many:: 2
How old did you wish you were?: Hmm. 16 was a good summer. But I'd say five is the best time of life. Because you get to do things like Hundred Day.
If you were to be anywhere right now, where would you be:: In an awesome job, making bills, and learning shit
Why:: Because I'm bored with doing nothing already.
Ever gone Camping:: Loooove camping. I live in Colorado. It's the balls.
Have you ever caught a fish and ate it:: Yes. Delicious.
Have you ever gone water skiing:: Wakeboarding, I got up!
Have you ever gone water tubing:: Indeed I have, on a choppy lake, and thought my arms were going to break off.
Have you ever gone skiing on a mountain:: I skiied once. My sister beat me down the mountain. And I decided I would take up snowboarding.
Have you ever gone tubing on a mountain?: Yes.
Have you ever gone Snowboarding?: I CANT WAIT FOR A POWDER WINTER. It's El Nino...we're going to get DUMPED on!
Ever gone to church:: Hahaha...gotta love being a pastor's kid
Ever gone to a famous water park:: No, but a poop floated by me once in a wave pool
Ever gone out of State:: Ugh.
Ever gone out of the country:: Si.
When was the last time you left town:: Went to Aspen last wkend.
Anything you got planned for this weekend:: Watching Inglorious Basters for the second time. And stick-and-balling some polo ponies.
If so, what:: Really?
Is this survey curing your bordom:: Bordom. No. No. It isnt.
Do you resemble anyone famous:: I've gotten Rachel Ray. I dont know whether to be happy/sad.
Are you related to anyone famous:: Nah.
If so, who:: Nah.
Do you think your hott:: I'm going to let you read the next group of questions. And leave them blank because I'm not a teenager
Do other people think your hott::
Do you think your skinny::
Or do you think your fat::
Or just in between fat and skinny::
What year were you born in:: 1984
Ever been on a blind date:: Yes. Not that bad.
What do you enjoy doing when your bored:: Writing in this stupid blog
What do you do in the summer time:: This summer, I worked, went to the beach, and hung out with the polo crowd.
Are you naturally tanned:: I am.
Or are you kinda pale:: Nah.
Do you live in a house:: Nope.
Or do you live in a apartment:: Technically homeless and couch surfing.
What do you have on your mind:: Why am I wasting my time?
What time is it:: 2 28

That was painful. Never again.

Hello, September

2009-09-02T19:47:00.005-04:00

Things have subsequently slowed down and sped up in the past month. It's a strange occurrence and it doesnt feel normal.

It's obvious that I have done a pretty decent job of kicking my serious internet habit in the past three weeks. The blog has substantially slowed, probably for the better, since all this sentimental bullshit cant be too entertaining for anyone to read. On the other hand, I have not kicked the habit of feeling oppressed and bogged down by circumstances that are inevitably beyond my control, so we can all thank whatever is up there laughing at all of us for continuously pushing me beyond my mental capacity.

The monotony of unemployment isnt all that monotonous. It's amazing how much shit you can find to do when you have the time to do it. Walking dogs. Riding horses. Going on mountain adventures. Eating dollar tacos and drinking too much vodka with old friends. My mom gave me the shitty eye yesterday and asked when my vacation was going to end.

But to be honest, its not much of a vacation. Because although I do like not working, I really DISlike not getting paid. That puts an enormous damper on my 'fun times out on the town with friends' vibe and adds more to the "Goddamnit Mom, I'm living on your futon. Do you really think this is a vacation for me?" type of thing I've got going at the moment.

And as much as I am screwing around some on a daily basis, I've already applied for a bunch of jobs, some of which make me cringe, others make me nervous, and then there are the ones where they're practically perfect minus the $10/hour pay. I'm so glad I paid so much money for this college degree. Correction: I'm so glad I will be paying so much money for this degree. Over the next 10 years. Unfortunately, getting paid hourly on a Hamilton level just isnt going to cut the expenses for me. But the alternative of sitting on my ass for nothing is just as unappealing.

Sigh.

In addition to all of this, I'm my own worst critic, as we all should be, and nothing makes me feel more guilty than asking for help from anyone, family, friends, whatevs. Not having a job hasnt been an option for me since I was 16 yrs old. Now isnt any different. Regardless of a crapshow economy.

It was my same shitty-eye-giving mother today who told me that I should not apply for a job I found that rested at 28k/yr because having my degree was worth more than that.

Uhh. At this incredibly early point in the unemployment game, I might have to disagree. If I can make it work on $12k, well, a $16 grand raise isnt all that bad of an upgrade. Does 28k/yr kind of make me want to throw up? Yes. But I've sucked up my pride before, and at this stage in the game, I'm going to follow my humility and go for whatever I can.

Balls to the wall, friends. September should be an interesting month. I'll squeeze what I can out of it.

Empty Promises

2009-08-27T12:42:00.007-04:00

I made myself a promise when I graduated from college. That promise was that I would never work in a restaurant again.

While scrapping my financial way through college, I worked in a few food joints. The first was Woody's Wood Fired Pizza. I worked at one in Denver and one in Fort Collins. The Denver joint scared me because I was working with people who were probably addicted to meth. One day, a Metallica song came on the jukebox, and in my metal naivete, I said something along the lines of "God, this song makes me want to DIE" and I was then verbally crucified by the entire staff for a) not knowing it was Metallica, and b) my outspoken lack of space in my musical taste for a band like Metallica. In retaliation, I put five dollars in the jukebox and played every Phil Collins song on the jukebox. I won. Kind of.

The Fort Collins Woody's wasnt that bad. There were a lot of fun girls/guys to hang around with on my shift. We would have dress themes for our shift like cowgirl or hungover that would annoy the crap out of my awesome manager Big Dan, but he'd just shrug his shoulders and deal. I once told some asshole that he didnt need to tip me and I further explained that he was being a total douche. Big Dan totally stood behind me and told the guy to never come back. That's the kind of manager you want on your side. However, Woody's was kind of a shitshow in that somedays I'd walk away with $60 and other days I'd walk away with $6.

The last restaurant job I worked was at the Sundance Steakhouse and Saloon. It boasts an enormous dance floor, a stage filled with some sort of country-western band, ridiculous drink specials, a free shuttle back into town, and a shitload of people to make fun of on a pretty constant level. This was by far my favorite place because the people-watching was out of control, and I really, really liked the staff that I worked with. (Except for the guy who called himself Wilderness that worked in the kitchen. About one month after I quit the Sundance, I came across his picture on the Registered Sex Offenders website, and I applauded my gut instinct for being terrified of the dude.) The only problem with working at the Sundance is that it was my fave place in college to get absolutely beligerent with my friends, and working at the saloon put me in the position of watching all my friends get belig while I sat on the sidelines. This job lasted approximately three months, and I was back on track with my drinking habits and catching up with lost sleep from shifts that ended at 2:30am.

Where is all this going? Well. This economy has a strong chokehold on the job market. I'm competing with people who have ten yrs of experience for jobs making $32k. And I just had my first interview. For a position. As a cocktail waitress at a comedy club. Now, a comedy club isnt exactly a restaurant and this one is pretty sweet, but waitressing. Waitressing again.

On one hand, I'm pretty impressed that I scored an interview this early in the game. On the other hand, well, in the other hand, I think I need a stiff drink. Vodka, preferably.

Why is this pig so greasy?

2009-08-25T12:25:00.004-04:00

Let the job hunt begin.

2,135 miles later

2009-08-22T18:20:00.004-04:00

Road Trip 2009 is over. Cedar Point did not happen. Hot Dougs DID happen. And I am laying on my mom's couch. Seeing that I am now actually unemployed, I'm making myself incredibly comfortable, because I have a feeling that me and this couch are going to spend many an hour together. Crying. Cuddling. Napping. It's almost like having a boyfriend. But better, because the couch cant call me names.

The long haul from the Chi was disgustingly long. Backbreakingly long. If my dad had been driving and I would have been seven, I would have said "Are we there yet?" no less than 1,003 times. Which is coincidentally the mileage from Chicago to Denver. When I arrived home, I realized I had a sore throat from singing so much. Iowa was all about showtunes. Nebraska was all about Jock Jams circa 1996. And the final leg of Colorado was all about sentimental, emotional songs that my friend Will likes to refer to as "Fat Girl Music". He's from Texas. He's allowed.

My theme song of the trip was "Back in the High Life" by Steve Winwood for multiple reasons. One, because Steve Winwood is the f-ing man. Two, because its a song about reconnecting with yourself and old friends and dancing with a drink in one hand. Three, because it's a bit punny considering that I am, literally, back in the high life. 5280 ft higher my friends. Everyone is in the mile high club in Denver. And so on and so forth.

I thought I would be ecstatic the second I saw Denver. Smiling. Laughing. Patting myself on the back for not crashing into one of the many deer I saw on the side of the highway. But all I got was a serious sense of foreboding. Now, the real hunt begins.

But once the foreboding subsided and I hugged my mom and got made fun of by my funnier younger sister, I realized that I was in fact home. And driving around the past few days I felt a new sense of appreciation for this city. For its cleanliness and its relentless sunshine. For the fact that this is the only city with billboards for specific micro-brews and that even when I dont want to go out, I'm barraged with texts from friends trying to harass me into hitting the town. I'm playing polo tomorrow morning with my hetero lifemate and Boca has shared the couch with me in all his furry splendor. My mom is cooking Sunday dinner tomorrow night. And my sister is already getting annoyed with me.

Along the many hours of my trip, there were multiple phone conversations with family and friends and one friend in particular gave me this piece of advice, albeit in an incredibly facetious and asshole-ish manner:

"If you love something, let it go. If it comes back to you, it's yours. If it doesnt, it never was."

She was making fun of me, to be honest. But in a piece that is much more sentimental and emo than I usually care to get, my year in Boston was the best thing that I ever did for myself. I had to break my comfort zone, and I very much did. Along the way, I acquired some new talents, some new friends, and a newfound appreciation for the people who are my family.

And here's my Carrie Bradshaw moment (This one goes out to BB, MK, and KV in honor of my last supper in the Bean):

Maybe sometimes you dont realize you love something. Maybe sometimes it takes space for that realization to occur, and in the end, it is you that has to make the decision about what's important in your life.

For me, it came down to my people. And this city. The combo is awesome, and I'm glad to be home.

And I'd like to add that I think Sex and the City was the Full House for women. There was always that dumb last thirty seconds that summed up the lesson of the episode with Carrie smoking her stupid cigarette. Man, I think I sank to a new level with this one.

Let the shenanigans of Denver begin.

Didn't Justin Timberlake sing a song about this?

2009-08-12T11:41:00.009-04:00

Well, it's Wednesday, and I dont like to count humps, so technically I only have two days left here at the HK. Two days. Which means I will be completing my 363-day tour with AmeriCorps VISTA. As of this Friday. Leaving Boston on Sunday. Leaving Mass on Monday. Hitting that road with a vengeance. Or something like that.

It's hard to sum up my feelings. A) Because feelings are usually a private matter. B) Because I'm a procrastinator and I have SO MUCH STUFF to get done at the HK in the next three days. I mean, I'm really an idiot for putting so much of this stuff off. And C) Because they're such a modge-podge of good slash bad and I care but I'm also indifferent and that whole "things are never what you expect" type of thought process that happens at the end of something like this.

I did a good thing. That, I can be sure of. Had my exit interview with the Exec Director and she made a good point that sometimes the organization is only ready for so much at one time, and being that I was the first Vol. Coord. here, I think I could only do what I did. If we want to put this into teen movie terminology, I was totally prepared to "bring da noise" however perhaps the HK wasn't entirely ready for "da noise to be broughten". I'm fine with that. If it werent for the poverty aspect of this position, it would have been a pretty cake job.

Also, I've come to the conclusion that in most workplaces, there's usually going to be someone who wants to eff up your day. Now I'm not going to elaborate on this further, but I do believe in karma, and I think the way you treat people eventually comes back to you, and I think this person in particular has a whole lot of bad karma coming her way after the way she's treated people at the HK over the course of her many years here.

It kind of reminds me of last year when I was working at MLF and one of the kids got hurt. This kid was eleven years old and probably one of the smartest and funniest kids I've ever met in my seven yrs as a camp counselor. This kid also had my number and had pissed me off more times than any eleven-year-old should be able to in like an eight-month period. We were on a field trip to this Kid's Gym type place where they had this exact bouncy toy.
The whole story goes is that another one of my favorite kids (so many favorites) runs up to me and the other counselors, screaming that someone got hurt "in the panda". I dont know about you, but kids sure are hilar. Then, thinking it was one of the little kids that was actually cute, we all got up in anticipation of a crying five-year-old, when the eleven-year-old crawls out of the tiger in the most dejected manner possible, grimacing, and staring at his hand.

Well, we all sat back down out of relief, and, we'll call him Parker for kicks, Parker comes over and looks at me and L with sad, puppy dog eyes:

"I jammed my finger in the bouncy toy."

This is where I explained what karma was to an eleven-year-old boy, what goes around comes around, and instructed him to sit down and get over it while I grabbed him an ice pack because at the heart of it all I truly liked the kid.

That's kind of how I feel about this co-worker. Minus the part where I like her and think she's smart and funny. She might be a bitch, but karma can be a worse one, and I'm looking forward to hearing about the day when she gets canned for being underqualified and over-confident.

I believe the specific JT lyrics are "What goes around comes around goes around comes all the way back around."

With that, I got some serious shit to catch up on before we can call Wednesday a total bust.

Planting the Seed: Road Trip 2009

2009-08-10T08:56:00.013-04:00

It's 8:56 in the morning on my LAST official day off from my indentured servitude to the HK. I was looking forward to a nice, solid sleep-in. Not that I'm one of those lay-in-bed all day types, but ya know, 10:30, 11am. The kind of sleep-in that gives you enough time to catch up on the sleep you missed due to having fun but also doesnt royally eff up a day for getting shit done.

Approximately twelve minutes ago, I was woken up by something out of a f-ing horror movie. The sound of a CHAINSAW right beneath my window.In that early morning sleep haze, I instantly went from shut-eye to wide-eye with my heart jumping through my chest. It simply was completely unexpected, and the shock of being woken out of a semi-deep sleep is definitely not the way I like to start my day.

Factor in the sound of loud hammers, a hand-held saw and other toolish-type things and my assumption is that my favorite toothless landlord has set up a lumber shop right outside my window.

Ugh. You have got to be kidding me. Did I tell you guys he walked into my room again last wk while I was pretending to be asleep? This guy breaks my lease contract on a daily basis. I swear to God.

That aside, a week from today begins Road Trip 2009. And I'm already setting up for another great one. I'm giving myself five days of good ol' American highway before I hit the scene of Denver on Friday, Aug. 21st.

Things I've Planned so Far:

-Beginning the trip with the trek to my old stomping grounds of Columbus, Ohio. Where I will be spending a fabu Monday night with Janna K., simply one of the best people to ever step foot into my life.

-In Columbus, I plan on doing things like drinking legally. Something that never happened in my time there. Also, eating at WG Grinders, the gourmet sandwich institution that supplied me with my very first job at the age of sixteen and truly honed my endless obsession for sandwiches.

-After Columbus, my goal is to head north to Sandusky, Ohio. What, you may ask, would you want to do that for? Well, the short answer is this:Cedar effing Point. For $45, you get a chance to ride the best and baddest roller coasters in the US of A. I know. Literally, the height of awesome. The last time I went to Cedar Point, I was fifteen yrs old and it was the year that Cedar Point's Millenium Force was still the highest roller coaster in the world. The initial 310-foot drop would make any hardass pee the pants a little. So since it's been ten years since I've had a thrilling experience of this magnitude, I'm taking a few hours out of my road trip schedule to hit up nine of the most awesome coasters this nation has to offer.

-Post CP, I will be headed to my new favorite American city, Chicago, where I get to bunk with my old CWG love, Tarrah D. Highlight of Road Trip 2008 was definitely tromping around this great city, where I had a run-in with a bear......at the Lincoln Park Zoo, admired the city from afar.......and had my face rocked off rolling VIP at the Hairbanger's Ball...Due to the necessity of a weekday vs. weekend road trip, I'm going to say that it's prob not going to be as wild as it was the first go-round. The bear encounter was pretty frightening. But I am dead set on experiencing Hot Doug's, which arguably might be the best hot dog joint on the planet. I'm sorry, I believe they call them "encased meats" which makes me think of something entirely different but moving on. Anthony Bourdain brought the light of this place to my life, and then MK went there in May and taunted me with this picture and rave reviews of everything that was stuffed into faces:Yeah. She took that pic. And ate those dogs. How can I drive through the Chi and not have this experience? Granted, on a lesser scale, however, a scale that must be equally delicious. I'm drooling a little just thinking about it. Also, planning this time on somehow harassing C Kang, perhaps some Jerrod action, a brewskie with Uncle TumTum, and digging around to see who else's schedule I can possibly disrupt. Two days in the Chi. It's prob gonna happen.

Post Chicago. Here's where things get a little blurry. Now if I want to be the road baller I am, and I am a road baller FYI, I could do the straight 15 to FoCo and crash for the night in the best college town in the world. I did this last time from FoCo to the Chi and I have to admit, the 17 hours it took due to traffic were pretty brutal in the end.

Now last year, I had a pretty rigid agenda. Denver to the Chi to C-bus to Philly for my AmeriCorps orientation. Which was more of a shithow than I could have ever imagined. I'd been planning on an NYC wkend to cap off the trip, but I was burnt to a crisp by that point and went straight to the relatives in Swansea, MA.

This year, things dont necessarily have to be so staunch.

Thursday is my travel-away-from-Chicago day at this point. In my quest to get home from the Chi, I have a few options. Bounce out of my way to Mankato, MN to hang with Diego aka Mark, one of the brawniest dudes that I know. I'm thinking PBR's and fist fights could potentially be involved, and I'm all for setting things on fire in his backyard.

However, the Mom, in her insistence that I get home safely, has offered to pay for a hotel between the Chi and the D and this could also be a decent option that would definitely allow for a more timely manner than the MN option. But I also know that knowing myself and my affinity for road balling, I'd prob just do the long haul to FoCo and hit up Denver the next am.

I'm excited for this trip. I love the road as much as I love the people. And I'm looking forward to

enjoying the feeling of yellow lines flying.

And in another mad prediction of sorts, I predict that within five days at the Qualtieri residence, my mom is going to be ready to send me back to Boston.

Fave Things of the 1st wk of...

2009-08-05T12:25:00.007-04:00

1. AUGUUUUUUUUUUST! Who knew it would ever come? Now I would say that it came fast, but this has without a doubt been the longest and poorest year of my life, so although I welcome August with open arms, I kind of feel like it should have been here six months ago. And I stand by that point. I've been talking to my AmeriCorps pals and it seems we all have a serious bout of senioritis kicking in with only ten days left in our service year. I'm throwing down some serious work next wk. Why? Because I have to. Holy Christ, it's going to be a killer.

You know what, I'm going to be completely honest with you guys. The only thing that really really is my favorite thing is that in nine days, NINE, I will have banged out the longest commitment of my life. One year. Not to a dude. Not to a job. But to something that I still believe is bigger than myself.

As this blog only caught the last halvsie of my struggles, I'm not going to blow sunshine up the ass of this experience. Making $250/wk sucked hard and I'm in negative dollars because of it. I'm in no shape for pending unemployment, that's for gosh-darned sure. My living arrangements have all been so-so, and my social agenda has been bare-bones and a lot of nights cuddled up with my laptop. Interestingly enough, it has gotten consistently beefier as I head closer and closer to departure, and that figures. But isnt that always the way? Sigh.

On the flip-side, I gained some important insights on life, the non-profit world, and Massachusetts weather.

1) Life really is like a bunch of chocolates. Considering the fact that I dont really like chocolate that much and theres nothing worse than picking out the chocolate that looks awesome only to realize its not chocolate at all, but a turd of sadness.

2) Non-Profits are great. For a lot of things. But I'm pretty sure I'm not interested in doing this ever. Until I'm an old geezer with a ton of $$ to throw around and I'm the one making all the decisions. Hopefully, at the expense of the people that work there.

3) There is nothing redeeming about Massachusetts weather. Ok, fine. The five days when fall is in full bloom and the trees are all on fire with reds and yellows and oranges. I liked that. But the other 360 can die a hard death. 361 in the case of a leap year.

As far as the personal jobby part of my year reflection, well, I've met alot of GREAT people. Great. The majority of the people that work at the HK are beyond fabulous, wonderful people with awesome intentions for bettering the lives of others, and they do it on a daily basis. We've got a team of incredible animals that are the closest things to angels put on this earth. Not to get mushy, but therapeutic horseback riding and hippotherapy have completely showed a different side of the world that moved me and gave me a newfound respect for the animals that have been so much a part of my life.

It's an amazing thing to see a child grow and respond, and its doubly amazing to me that the horse who tried to bite me five seconds earlier turns into the most quiet, gentle being once they're in the company of a child. Even you, Dan. Ya big jerk.

So for those of my HK people who read this blog, you guys made this experience. So many hugs in your direction. Not only are you a favorite thing of the first wk of August, you are the favorite thing of the past year of my life.

As far as the AmeriCorps year goes, well, I'm really looking forward to the day when my paycheck doesnt make my cry a little. I'd like to think it's closeby, but another thing the AmeriCorps taught me was to be a realist, not an idealist, so I'm not gonna hold my breath.

My Appetite for Destruction...Boston-style

2009-08-01T11:15:00.009-04:00

I think last night I went to the true dreamworld of magic.

So I've got these three neighbors...the neighbies, I call them. They're pretty cool dudes. For a few months, they've talked up this band called Appetite for Destruction, a Guns N Roses tribute band. Every year, they come to Boston and do this booze cruise around the Boston Harbor, and upon getting home from work yesterday, I'm told I have less than fifteen minutes before we gotta run to this thing.

First of all, have to give credit where credit is due. I had a solid $7 and the neighbies let me freeload all night. For realsies guys, you're getting those M&M cookies AND brownies with walnuts. And a case of Taste the Rockies if ya catch my drift. Also, I'm usually pretty high maintenance about getting ready and I'm pretty sure I power-showered, dressed, and faced myself in less than seven minutes. Did I just say faced myself? Awkward. But yeah, proud of me.

When you're going to one of these events, there is nothing cooler than knowing the band. And Jimmy, my fine neighbie, knows the band. We got hooked up with four free tix to the show, and VIP'd ourselves in the front row all night. Being that I'm a music weirdo and listen to lame shit like Phil Collins and Seal and Meatloaf, I cant say my GnR familiarity is all that staunch. But these fahkin' guys, man, they dropped a serious bomb of awesome on that boat.

And did I mention that I was...on a boat????

It was just like that, I promise.

Chad's the lead singer. And holy balls, the voice on this guy is in-effing-sane. I dont know how vocal cords can actually sound like that. It confuses but astonishes me at the same time. Musically, they didnt miss an effin beat. Check these guys out:

I try to refrain from using Bostonian language, but wicked awesome, you guys. So take all of that energy, all of that talent, and throw it on a boat with a crapload of Coors Light. Wicked. Awesome. Also, some of the best people watching ever. There were these crazy old cougars wearing skin-tight clothes rocking out hardcore. There were meatheads in polo shirts and khakis that were getting screamed at by security for banging too hard on the ceiling of the boat. There were terrifying biker dudes that I stayed as far away from as possible. And a bunch of 40-50 somethings just livin' the dream. Also, a guy that smelled eerily similar to taco seasoning. Ethan will vouch on this.

Post-boat, we headed out to bars I'd never been to. I'm pretty sure there was some jager involved thanks to Adam. (Watch that clip. Watch it. Do it.) Somehow, we end up seeing another musical entity, this time involving a banjo, my effing favorite, and irish guys. Didnt talk to them. You guys know where that leads. I dont need another dude begging me for green card status. But wait...did I mention that the Appetite for Destruction bandwagon met up with us at said bar?

You guys know me. I'm not into rocker dudes or band guys. I'm the furthest thing from a groupie. But I'm pretty sure I used this line last night just because I could, and I'm also kind of an a-hole:

Your blue hair really brings out your blue eyes.

I also sent the following text message to Liv, and I have no idea what it means or what point I was trying to get across: Holy gu king calls.

Yeah. I dont know.

All in all, one of my best nights in Boston so far. Leave it to my awesome neighbies to totally supply the hook-up and be pretty much the coolest kids in town. You fahkin guys, you really do rock.

Also, Appetite for Destruction just got a new fan. For my Colorado pals, they're in Denver, Steamboat and Aspen all next wk. You guys should seriously go. Amazing time. Super fun dudes. I'm gonna upload my Iphone pics tonight and stick them on here so check back for some awesome pics of GnR Tribute Band+I'm on a boat=awesomeness.

Keep it classy, my friends. And hope you enjoyed the dreamworld rickroll. You're welcome.

Thingamajiggers and Talking Dinosaurs

2009-07-31T11:40:00.006-04:00

Got to talk about some things.

1. Strike one, Obama. The Beer Summit has finally occurred, and I've been personally notified by general online media that Obama had a Bud Lite, Gates had a Red Stripe, and Crowley had a Blue Moon. In one of the many articles I read on the BS, they stated that Obama recently tried Yuengling, a personal favorite from my summers in PA, but only after he "made sure it wasn't one of those designer beers". I'm offended for every decent microbrewery in the country, first of all. Secondly, way to be non-stereotypical Gates. And Crowley, you get a passing grade. C+. I like the occasional Blue Moon myself, but when you have every option in the free world? Really? All in all, dissapointed with beer summit. And my president has finally offended me, drinking a beer I reserve for beirut and desperation.

Fail on three counts. Boobama.

2. Reading other blogs. Blogging is an admittedly narcissistic, attention-seeking behavior. And there are alot of blogs out there that are infinitely better at accomplishing this goal than I am. There are some that are probs on par. And some that are abysmally more horrible. MK sent me a link to this blog, which made me realize that I'm lightyears behind the legitimately good ones, but I thrive on feelings of inferiority so not that big a deal. Plus, it's pretty apparent that someone is a quitter, so I dont have to worry about continued feelings of inferiority, but can go back and read his archives which increase my self-loathing as well as make me laugh hysterically. Then there's this other blog that I have in my follow list. And I've actually been laughing audibly at it lately. Love the Ma$e entry. Seriously. Alicia's Area is also a fantastic place to go for a quick laugh and a closer understanding of one of the most interesting people I've met in my life. Congrats on finishing the bar by the way, pal. I know you got dis.

3. Dave Attell Rises Again. He's baaa-aaack. My favorite small, bald jewish man has hit the screen of Comedy Central again with his new hour o' laughs, Captain Miserable. Youtube has the entire series in five different segments. Look it up. Hysterically awesome. Here's a slice, and just from the title, I'd like to dedicate this one to my friend Brian. You know who you are.

4. Time. Why you punish me? Like a wave bashing into the shore. You wash away my dreams.

5. Yobs. I've actually applied to two jobs in college admissions. One at DU. One at CSU. And I'm praying to the God of Employment that I can at least get my foot in the door for an interview! I just cant tell you how awesome these jobs sounds, as well as how perfect they would fit in with my experience. Keep your fingies crossed.

6. I'm out of shit to talk about. No really. And I have alot of work to catch up on. Two weeks from today. Two. Two. Two!

Cannot. Wait. And one more thing...I am super excited to go home to one of the GREATEST cities in the States! Oh Denver, how I love thee...

Me and LaToya Jackson...

2009-07-30T14:14:00.005-04:00

As it stands, I have 17 days left in the AmeriCorps. Wow. Just...wow. 17 days till freedom. 17 until the great unknown. 17 until I can pack my car and head out west, where the sun shines and the eagles fly. It sounds like a great country western song. And actually I'm pretty sure it is a line from a country western song.

I've been getting these insane headaches lately. Prob a fallout from my constant level of stress. I dont know if you guys have ever been around an animal in distress, but even a horse with a broken leg will continue to eat its hay, and that is kind of how I've felt lately. On the inside, panicking, but on the outside, trying to keep things as constant and level as possible. Apparently, it's some kind of survival instinct, an emotional maintenance program during crisis. Not that I'm in actual crisis. Just generally panicky about having an unplanned future for the first time in my life. But yeah, throbbing headaches. The height of fun.

I have to say that the weather in Boston substantially got better this past month. However...according to the trusty resource that is my cousin, this has been the wettest July on record. So although I think this weather is alright, it has only been alright in comparison with how horrible November through June was. I have been able to get a sort-of tan. I've got 17 days until I can start working on that full-time. I interviewed myself for the position, and got the job. The salary isnt that great, but I have to say I enjoy the payoff.

A super weird thing happened today. Was at the HK. And luckily the small red dot on the radar screen ended up sitting on top of us so we had this crazy thunder storm going on. Backstory: We recently got a new horse, and it takes awhile for a new horse to get used to his surroundings, so Mr Colin has been spending his days living in our roundpen. Example A:

It's a large structure. Made out of metal. My pal Lisa and I had pulled chairs up to the big open doors of the barn, and we're watching this storm unfold, coming closer and closer, when I say:

"Hmm. We probably should have brought Colin in as he will probably get struck by lightning living inside that huge metal structure" or something like that. Literally, as I finished that sentence, the roundpen was struck by a huge bolt of lightning and thunder cracked the air open so loudly I swear that I felt it. Thankfully, the big guy was no worse for wear but he was definitely substantially freaked out as Lisa and I stared at eachother in amazement of my newfound psychic prowess. Very. Very. Weird.

I've started applying to reality tv shows. No, really. I figure theres about as much competition for those spots as there are for regular-paying jobs so why not give it a whirl? I have no problem with embarrassing myself publically and also, it would kind of be nice to give in to my urges to freak out on people. I think I could enjoy going into those solo rooms and talking trash about everyone else. I am fluent in trash talk, and I think with my keen observational skills, I could gain quite a following in the world of reality tv. If any of the shows I've applied for call me back, you guys will be the first to know.

And with that, I predict that I'm going to leave work in exactly two hours.

Back Up Plan!

2009-07-28T14:53:00.009-04:00

Every day, I get these emails that, ya know, tell me what to wear in interviews and how to wow a new boss and all that kinda 'common sense' sorta stuff that I still like to read just to prove that I'm ahead of the curve.

Today, I got a quiz in the mail. A career quiz. I was like "Sweet. Maybe this will help me solidify a few things." I've been big on the education thing. That's been a lingering thought since college, guidance counseling, working with high school-age kids, helping them navigate the college process, stuff like that. But I also lean towards trying to get into some form of writing or maybe even public relations or event planning. I know I need to be active. I can deal with desk stuff to a point but holy man...40 hours a wk of desk is not up my alley. Nor should it be up anyone elses.

The quiz. It seemed pretty legitimate. Well written. Not the weird personality tests of my psych 101 past. I went through it, answered honestly, thinking it was going to give me something that I could work with in the end. Something that I would be like YES! THAT IS IT! And my life would have been forever changed.

What did it throw at me? What did it tell me that I need to be when I grow up? It told me that I needed to be a ROCK STAR.

Me. Rock star.

And then I started to really consider the option. I dont play a guitar but I know a few people that do. My friend Alicia has always had dreams of being the person who yells "remix" in the middle of a songs. And Liv could be my elbow-shaking back-up dancer. That's right. Elbows. They're the new ass.
Alright, Chris. You can be a dancer too. But only if you wear a wetsuit. Although I dont know what move you're doing in this pic, but I think we're going to have to work on some choreography that makes you not look like you're dropping the kids off at the pool. Elbows, son! I need more elbows!

My sister could design all my outfits, and I'm incredibly fond of 80's neon, crazy makeup, and big hair. There are alot of pieces that fall into place the more and more I think about this. My mom would be an epic manager and we could have serious Lohan-level family fall-outs for the media to freak out about. I've got an annoying voice, but seriously, have you heard Alanis Morisette and Miley Cyrus? I cant be much worse than them.

Can you even imagine the paparazzi following me around? There would be pictures of me in huge sweatsuits and sunglasses eating hot dogs in the confines of my half-totalled Mazerati. I could go all-out and have a mental breakdown, shave my head, and check into oceanside rehab with B Spears. I'd be given restraining orders for like every person in Judd Apatow's movies. Especially James Franco and Seth Rogen. Yes, I have a jewfro crush on Seth Rogen. And who doesnt love James Franco?

Sssh. He's learning to read.

I feel like I could also write some good songs for myself. You know, be a legit artist and shit. I feel like there would be a lot of angst but a lot of upliftingness but still a little bit of edge. Kind of a cross between Tori Amos and Michael McDonald. With a little bit of Etheridge thrown in there. And maybe some sick Missy Elliot beats.

So at this point, I've really got nothing to lose. Goal for the next wk: A solid name. A handful of lyrics. And a rallying effort to make this happen.

Time to get famous.

Amusing Things

2009-07-26T14:45:00.004-04:00

Outside of the sphere of my small quiet and poverty-oppressed life, there are alot of things going on that I find to be quite amusing.

1. Shaq Vs. Have you guys heard about this? Shaq has created his own reality show where he competes against the best of the best in their respective sport. He's already quarterbacked a team against Roethlisberger (No worries, KBev. Your boyfriend dominated as expected.) And next on the agenda is swimming against Michael Phelps, the dude with an abnormally long torso and short, flipper-like legs who likes to hit the ganj in his spare time. Which is prob the only thing these two guys have in common. Besides insane sponsorships and being professional athletes. And abnormally long torsos. Ok, so they have alot in common. But I do have a strange passion for Shaq. If I ever watch TV again, I might consider checking this out. Until then, I leave it to Joel McHale and The Soup to pick out the best pieces. How's that for an ADD paragraph?

2. Reconciliation of differences over ice cold brews. Obama has won my heart once more with something that I think is so George Bush of him. He's invited Henry Gates and Sgt. James Crowley to the White House for a chat over a brewski. First of all, genius idea. I absolutely love this. Second, I have to wonder what kind of beer. I hope a microbrew. But that's the beer snob in me talking. Third, I find it interesting how Obama has totally become a peer mediator in this situation. Just like in a high school guidance counseling office. Looking forward to hearing how this misunderstanding gets sorted out. And hopefully the liberal elite media will remember to fill me in on what they drank. I could see Obama being a Fat Tire kinda guy. We'll see.

3. The Elkhart Project. Oh wait. I actually dont find this amusing. Msnbc.com has taken on a year-long project with some shitty redneck town in Indiana, trying to really give a homey and depressing vibe to the already depressing recession. If I wanted to learn about obese sixteen-year-olds being pregnant and what it's like to be addicted to crystal meth, I'd turn on MTV. But I dont. Because those things make me sad. Very sad. And also offended. Mildly offended. On top of all of this, I really dislike Indiana. It was the worst part of my drive out here. And I'm actually considering going through Michigan to avoid it on the way home. Just the word 'Hoosier' sets off my gag reflex and sends visions of starter jackets and nascar t-shirts floating through my mind. Gross.

4. Tweeting your prayers. Now I am not a profoundly religious person by any means, but I do find it very amusing that you can now tweet a prayer and have it placed on the Western Wall, a supposed short cut to God. I havent prayed in a very long time, but I like this idea a lot. And perhaps will actually try this...because...

5. I've joined Twitter. Over a month ago, I got an Iphone. And decided that I would start secretly tweeting. And I started following a bunch of comedians I love. They make me laugh alot. My status in life has just been bumped down significantly. But I can now update it any time I want. So if you too have given up on any level of self-respect, you can follow me at this address. I expect some hatemail about this. And for everyone to point out my obvious hypocrisy. No shame in my game, friends. No shame.

6. Bruno. I saw it a few weeks ago. To be honest, I've just overcome the shock, and now I am finally mentally able to put down a few thoughts on the movie I had been so eagerly anticipating. For those of you that knew me in college, this might come as an outrageous shock to you guys, but at the core of my heart, I'm an awful prude. And Bruno the movie brought that prude right back out of me. I'm okay with vulgarity, with a raunchy sense of humor, with alot of things that are blatantly un-prude, but Bruno upped the shock value to a point that left me with my mouth agape and my eyes covered by my own hands. I laughed. I laughed alot. But I walked away thinking, "Holy crap. I wish I had seen that on a regular-sized television and not a forty foot tall screen." The entire movie makes the nude wrestling scene in Borat look like child's play. It was pretty intense. I have to say though, I very much want one of my own chair mexicans. You'll have to catch the movie to comprehend that one.

Should prob get some work done on this muggy Sunday!

A Weird Day...A Sad One

2009-07-25T20:41:00.005-04:00

I couldnt sleep last night.

It was the kind of 'couldnt sleep' where you wake up in a cold sweat at 3:37am. Half my hair was mashed against my face, the other half in tight curly cues from the sweating and I knew I was up for the long haul. I tried to read. I took a shower. Something just wasnt right, and I could feel it. This is all abnormal for me, once in a blue moon-type of deal.

This morning, I found out that one of my former campers got killed in a car accident two nights ago. An awesome kid, with a hilarious personality and a funny laugh. She was 19 and going into her sophomore year at SUNY Buffalo, studying architecture. A year below my original campers, she was never in my bunk but loved her just the same. Love all my campers just the same as I did back during those summers. How do you say rest in peace to a nineteen-year-old? She deserves much more than that.

I walked all day today. I tried to read. I half-heartedly listened to music, then turned it off. I rode the bus. I sat and watched people in Harvard Square. I got a burrito. I tried to breathe. I couldnt talk to people, but I tried that too. I thought about people I hadnt thought about in a long time. And then I tried to stop thinking. I probably walked six or seven miles today. I rode the T. I tried to gain perspective, and I couldnt. And I realized that sometimes things happen that are just tragedies. And there will never be perspective.

And I have a feeling I have another night of no sleep ahead of me.

My heart is with her family. With her little sister who was one of my Super J's of 2004. With all of my former campers, with the people that I've loved along the journey.

And...beyond all of this...I really dont know.

A Saturday Morning without Very Much Sleep

2009-07-25T10:41:00.011-04:00

I've got alot of things on my mind at the moment. Dont know how longwinded this one is going to get, but I'm gonna buckle my seatbelt, mostly because the local troopahs are doing the Click It or Ticket campaign and my car makes an incredibly annoying beeping sound after about thirty seconds of no-seatbelt freedom.

Last wkend, I went out. I met this guy. He was wearing a fedora. I instantly judged him, and since I was drinking, I judged him to his face. It's this bad habit that I have, but shouldnt have. Because I come from no privilege whatsoever and therefore have no base to be such an incredible bitch to people who I deem to be less than for some reason or another. My sister likes to point this out to me constantly, and then I like to point out her taste in men. But I find the habit entertaining and worthwhile, and all the egalitarian nonsensical talk in the world will never convince me that I am not actually better than a good number of people out there. Fedora guy discluded from that number, because he turned out to be funny, engaging, and also totally accepting of my need to lay into his indie lifestyle.

I told you it was going to be a tangent kind of day.

The next morning, I'm checking my email and I find this picture in my inbox:

It was from fedora guy. It took me a solid ten minutes of confusion to track back through my night and try to understand why this was sent or what convo it came out of, but I did at least bring it back to him although circumstances remain cloudy. I'm sure of one of two things: that my severe dislike for tattoos and/or my severe dislike for Miller High Life came up in our conversation and inevitably it led to fedora guy emailing me this photo. I hope God prevents me from ever meeting this photographed individual, because I have a feeling that after our conversation I'd either have a 'high' or a 'life' coming straight towards one of my cheekbones.

To be honest, I wanted to share that pic, but had no good idea on how to do it. So that's what you guys get.

The other thing on my mind is how much I dislike my landlord. I shouldnt dislike him as much as I do, but he crosses the line with me at least once a week. He's an older man named Dennis, probably in his sixties. Irish immigrant. And has the most horrifying set of 1.5 teeth I've ever seen. Did you know a tooth could actually turn green? Green! I can barely look at incredibly crooked teeth, but I cant help but stare at the onesie in horror each time I talk to the man; however, he's not that observant so I'm not embarrassed about it.

I dont go to work until 9:30 or 10am on a workday. Dennis tends to come do landlordly activities at his will around the few houses he own in my little area in Oak Square circa 9ish Monday through Saturday. The problem with this is that he comes in and out of my house at will, doing things like walking into the bathroom while I was in the shower on Thursday and dropping a serious deuce that lingered until I got home from lunch yesterday. Did you catch that?? He walked in on me while I was in the shower!! Now, I watched that Psycho movie as a child. You know the one with the stabbing scene in the shower? I'm pretty sure this is an accurate depiction of me on Thurs am:Except with longer hair and unfortunately broader shoulders. And I wasnt screaming but yelling some sort of pissed-off version of HELLO and WHAT THE EFF!

Serious apologetics happened. By talking to me through a cracked-open door. WTF Dennis! Quit apologizing and get out of the fucking house that I pay rent for! And then to have to deal with a smelly old man deuce in my bathroom less than twenty-four hours later!

The man has walked into my bedroom while I was sleeping pre-8am. Left me with a broken oven for two months and now a broken dishwasher. Walked in on me in the shower. Taken a man deuce in my bathroom that left me gagging. And has now woken me up on a Saturday morning with the banging of hammers during the only time slot I could make sleeping in possible. Last straw, Dennis. I'm going to freak out and go Italian on your ass the next time you bumble around and fuck up my day. Also, going to begin charging an idiot tax on my rent to the tune of $50 per mishap.

I'd take Pearl over Dennis. Even with her obvious drinking problem.

The Landlord from Will Ferrell

That will never cease being funny to me. Saturday calls.

I feel like I'm in a Bone Thugs song.

2009-07-21T23:26:00.003-04:00

I'm coming to the crossroads. The crossroads. The crossroads.

I've once again come back to the IDGAF stage, while also realizing that the theme of the Toys R Us commercials of my youth has entirely infiltrated every atom of my being.

I dont want to grow up.

I mean, I could care less about the million toys at Toys R Us that I could play with. But I really, really dont want to grow up, and it probably is abnormal. Serious relationships? Nah. Buying houses? No thanks. Being financially responsible...who does that?

A lot of my friends have made big strides, and I'm happy for them. Engagements, marriages, children, big time jobs, finishing law degrees, doing things, going places, moving and shaking, living responsibly. It's impressive. I am impressed.

I guess I've done a fair bit of "growing up" in Massachusetts. I've dated a few guys that I actually thought I could have really liked. A step in the right direction. I've gone out a limb a whole lot, tested my boundaries. I went six months without seeing my family. I've made new friends and pushed my comfort zone to limits I havent previously gone to. And I've done it all while making a poverty wage and attempting to support myself on barely anything in a city that makes $40,000 look like a shit living wage.

I've also stepped aside from previous collegiate habits and re-established a more solid "moral" ground for myself. That's been a pretty big move. Partying is definitely not an everyday or even every wk occurrence.

With all of this, what have I established?

That I'm incredibly bored. And I'm usually pretty good at keeping myself entertained. I find the routine of work, cook, gym, sleep, repeat pretty f-ing redundant and mind-numbing. At least with school, I had to keep my brain active. With work, with academics, with polo, with bars. There was always something exciting, always something to delve into. I love being busy. It dictates what I have to do for me.

Also, I watched Marley & Me this wkend. And what struck me most was not the story of the dog. But the story of the family. With the screaming children, and the poor wife being driven nuts by the screaming children, and the distant husband who was constantly thinking about everything he had given up in life. And I was like 'this movie is a horror movie', kind of the way I feel about 'Knocked Up' as well. Funny, but I am now adopting small asian children after witnessing the terrors of pregnancy. I mean, Owen Wilson's character eventually realizes he didnt give up anything. That its about family. Right? That's the whole deal. Also, small asian children are by far the cutest of children.

Sidenote: MK told me her asian friend has a dream to adopt a little white child and raise them asian. He said the child will live in America, but only speak Chinese. I like this approach.

In my mind, I know its about family. Why would I be moving back to Denver if it wasnt? But on the other hand, I believe that we only get one shot at life. There's no heaven or hell beyond this place. I have now. And now is fading. It panics me occasionally. How fast it all goes by.

And I consider that statement to be weird considering this has been the longest year ever.

I know there's a lot to be gained from things that I consider to be grown up. I just cant fathom them yet. I cant force them to be a part of what I want. Because I think I have to determine that whole thing first. And I want to kill this boredom forever.

Well, that was candid. I'm going to go to sleep now.

Got a Quarter Tank of Gas...In my New E-class

2009-07-20T13:51:00.006-04:00

Lately, I've had that horrible feeling that time is intentionally stretching itself out to drive me to the point of madness.

I saw something yesterday that confused me. A Nissan Altima. With the butterfly wings. If you dont know what "butterly wings" are on a vehicle, here is an example

Except that that is a Lamborghini Murcielago. Not a Nissan Altima. And that car costs $313,000. And you could buy probably 16 Nissan Altimas for that price. And I was pretty embarassed for the guy who was driving it. But I did laugh at him as he got out of his car. I didnt really mean to. It just kind of happened. Plus, he was wearing a graphic tee. Like I couldnt have guessed that. I'm wondering if he calls the car "Bigtima" instead of "Altima". I think that's what I would do.

Speaking of cars, I fulfilled a dream in Colorado a few weeks ago and I got to drive Liv's aunt's Bentley GTC. Which is this car exactly:

Remember when I was talking about needing a third option? How I've given up on men and could never go the lady route? I think this car is my third option. I think we could live a happy, fulfilling, and glorious life together, me and Bentley GTC. Out on the open road. The world as my oyster. Just me and my roadster. Just the thought makes me happy inside. I think I'd want it in navy. With the cream leather and the woodgrain on the dash. And maybe gator boots and a pimped-out gucci suit. So many rap songs going through my mind right now.

Alright. I feel like there's more writing to be done but I'm blowing this popsicle stand and headed back to Boston to cook myself some dinner. I've been on the pizza cleanse for like four days now, and I'm pretty sure its destroying my internal organs.

Things that make me feel human again

2009-07-16T20:45:00.002-04:00

If you cant tell by my past, oh, few months of posting, I'm under a bit of stress trying to figure out wtf I am going to do with my life. I refer to this whole situation in my head as a total "mindfuck" being that I'm now 25 yrs old and headed in the swift-running direction of No Man's Land. I feel like I've gotten away from the original intention of this blog which was to give people something to relate to. I'm going to do my best to get back to that intention.

I've decided to use this post as a mental vacation and list the things that I like to do when under stress, and maybe you yourself will find that one of these options works for you as well.

1. Drink alone and cry alot. It sounds really weird, but it's a double whammy in that you can drown your sorrows and pour them out of your system simultaneously. This one is more related to women. Men, you can always take the "drink alone and clam all your emotions up inside" or "drink alone and punch a wall" approach. Equally effective. Although I always find the crying to be the best part.

2. Take your anger out on other people. When I'm feeling stressed out, there's no better release than to fuck up someone else's day. Hard day at work? Vent to a friend. Better yet, vent on a friend. Freak out at someone who doesnt know they have it coming. Why? Because there is nothing better than the element of shitty surprise to make someone else feel worse than you do.

3. Drive recklessly. Flip someone off. Scream obscenities at the assholes surrounding you on the highway. And go at least 15 mph over the speed limit while getting obviously angry at anyone who is abiding by traffic laws.

4. Say horrible things around strangers. Like the other day when I was in Old Navy and these two little girls were playing and screaming at the top of their lungs. I muttered out loud "Jesus! Get control of your f-ing children!" without realizing it was their mother looking at dresses right next to me. Well, she let those kids have it. Problem solved.

5. Ignore responsibilities. This one is a doozy. When I get stressed, I feel good knowing that I'm getting absolutely nothing accomplished when I should be doing alot. You would think this would make me more stressed. Au contraire, my friends. There's nothing better than the feeling of catching up on all the stuff you've been putting off forever to make you feel like, man, you really did something today.

6. Treat people like they're an inconvenience. And they'll feel smaller than you. It's like being a bully in elementary school. You take away their power, and somehow it builds your confidence, like clapping for Tinkerbell.

7. Lay on the beach. Oh wait. This one is actually legitimate. However, I challenge you to always lay near someone who is much more overweight than you are so you will look good by comparison. My Masshole friends like to tease me about going to Revere, but come on. I'm probably the only person there with a college degree. It totally totally rules.

8. Ride a horse. There's nothing better than bossing something around that is much bigger and more powerful than you to make you feel like a human. It's a strong reminder that we are the dominant being. Well, until one helps you do a faceplant into the dirt. You win some, you lose some. It can be a humbling experience. But I love it.

Yessss. I feel better already. Tomorrow is a day off. Let's see how many stress relievers I can accomplish in one day! Huzzah!