Friends and Lovers

After much consideration, I have noticed that these two categories of relationships cannot exist in my life one after the other. I simply am unable to be friends with somebody that I have been intimate with. This took some reflection, but then after going through a mental checklist of my ex-flings and boyfriends, etc, reality sunk in. I am just not one of those girls that can be friends after. On certain occasions, if I felt that I was treated unfairly or poorly, I may even extend ill-wishes towards this man. It's not like they even did something that immediately makes me want to curse their name. I just don't like to think, "Aww, they're happy now and not pining away for losing the best thing that ever happened to them. ME. I hope they choke on a pretzel and die."

And so I am a bitter, man-hating female again. Who knew? Maybe the bitterness is trying to cover something up and maybe it isn't. Guess we'll never know.

On another note, even though I hate men, why are some such fine specimens? As Samantha from SATC says, "All that testosterone, God bless it." So true. The weather gets nice and all of a sudden, I notice all the men around me. Not that I didn't notice before, but there seems to be some urgency that comes with spring and seeing more skin on men. Instead of sweaters, men are wearing tight t-shirts is which I can see arm muscles, nice stomachs, and nice backs. Mmmmmm, back muscles. Yup, clearly one of my weaknesses.

I Could Really Use A Beer

Sorry for the lack of blogging lately, but my mother was here for five days, so we were out being tourists. I figure nobody really reads my blog anyway. I sort of assume it's here for my own personal amusement and I could totally bash people on here and they would never know. Not that I don't already do that sometimes.

I need a drink. I realize that it is before noon, but if you just spent five days with your mother without alcohol, you might want one too. I like my mother, don't get me wrong, but she sometimes drives me insane. It could have been worse, I could have gotten a really scary mother. But I didn't. And now, I would really love a beer. With an hour for lunch, what else am I gonna do? Work? Not when I don't get paid for it.

"Hoes, Dave. Dave, Hoes." "Good Evening, Bitches."

I totally fell asleep on the N train when I was coming home last night. I waited for what felt like an hour (but was really only about fifteen minutes) for it to come. I sat down, remember going through the Queensborough tunnel for about the first five seconds, and the next thing I know, we're at Broadway. Ummmm, yeah. I guess that four pints of Yuengling will do that to you. I get home, throw my coat, shoes, and clothes on the floor, and climb into bed. Gloriously naked. Now that the weather is starting to change (the brief exception being yesterday), my "I love to sleep naked" phase is starting to resurface. My bed has never felt that good before ever. It was time to get those glorious five hours of sleep before having to trudge to work this morning.

So there I was, having this AWESOME sex dream this morning. You know, the kind where you wake up and think, "Damn, was that real? Cuz that sure felt like it was real." It was good, and it wasn't some anonymous stranger either, it was someone I know, so it had the potential to be an actual situation. Someone that I've thought about, you know, that way. Hehe. And it's funny, because the dream started out completely innocent too. However, I know that it wasn't real. I knew this when I woke up because I looked at my alarm clock and it read 7:28 AM. Fuuuuuuuuuuuck. Not a good situation for someone who has to be out the door no later than 7:50 to make it to work by 8:30. I jump out of bed only to have to sit back down again. Raging headache. How is that possible when I drank enough water last night to fill a kiddie pool? My shower lasted about a grand total of five minutes, just long enough to wash the beer smell off so that the poor people next to me on the subway weren't going to vomit from it. Remember those days in college when you'd go to class completely hungover and smelling like the previous night's keg (or gallon, hehe) of choice? Good times. Somehow I don't think that would be appropriate anymore.

Anyway, at this point, I have a grand total of about 15 minutes to find something to wear, put in my contacts, put my make-up on so I don't look like a total zombie, get my shit together that I am taking to work, and pack my breakfast. And you know what? I was out the door at 7:52. I'm so good.

And now I am at work. Headache still raging. And the coffee machine is fucking broken, so I am going to have to go across the street to Starbucks to pay two dollars for coffee that could be free in my office. Bitches.

Super Sweet

I just found out that I get to leave early on Friday because of the holiday weekend, and I still get paid. As soon as it's 2:30, I am outta here!! Rock on. And I am taking Monday and Tuesday off.

Seems to me I frequently have a lot more bad days than I used to. Like yesterday, for instance. Being an emotional trainwreck is real fun, let me tell you. It's like the smallest thing sets me off and then I want to run crying to the bathroom. Sending out eight trillion fucking Fedex boxes will do that to you I suppose, in addition to having to fix a Powerpoint presentation with only an hour to do both. When the presentation isn't done exactly on time because the Fedex took priority, and you are made to feel totally incompetent, that's when the crying part almost happened. Not exactly the hardest tasks in the world, but when you are made to feel like you have no brain, it sucks. And then your personal life is a mess too so were already distracted to begin with. You laugh, but unless you are female, you have no idea. Going home last night on the subway was awesome, because I had this death look on my face in order to keep myself from bursting out in tears. Nobody told me being a woman in my 20's was going to be this cool. Somebody could have warned me.

Dear Annoying Man Talking on Nextel Walkie-Talkie Phone

It is eight o'clock in the morning on the subway. Kindly shut the fuck up. We don't need to hear about how you are going to go to the gym after work.

I Hate the Finance Gods

My dad sent me a copy of Quicken to put on my computer so that I can "manage my money better". Thanks, Dad, what money? Quicken has this way of evilly pointing out (in red too) that I have no money to my name. What, only 15 dollars and change in my checking account? I don't need to be reminded of that, thanks. Only 45 dollars available credit on my Mastercard? Was trying to ignore that too. Quicken even reminds me when bills are due, regardless of whether or not I have the funds to pay them on time. Being organized about my funds sucks.

There is another male in the office who, as of late, has been growing in attractiveness. His name is Russian (I know, another Russian, although he isn't actually Russian), but how is this for sexy? His name means a powerful ruler. Damn. Me like. I get to see him about six times a day because he goes outside to smoke, which is a bit of a gross out factor, but I try not to think about that.

Sniff, Sniff

Saturday night, I was accused of snorting coke in the bathroom of a bar. I came out of the stall, washed my hands, and put on my lipstick. However, I had just come in from outside, so my nose was running a bit, so I sniffed a couple of times. This clearly gay man comes out of the other stall, looks at me and says, "What were you doing out here?" I told him and he actually seemed dissappointed. "Oh, I heard you sniffing out here and I thought you were doing something else." Oh, New York, sometimes I laugh at you and your curious behavior.

Speaking of drugs, I am a complete addict to something we all know. Caffeine. I think that it needs to be completely banned. Marijuana is illegal, yet caffeine is much more addictive - thanks a lot America. I must have caffeine every day in the morning, or I don't wake up for the rest of it. I sit around like a zombie, completely oblivious to everything. For some reason, the office ran out of coffee this morning, so I was forced to drink tea (again). This seems to happen more than any of us are happy with. So, I look like the half dead, waiting until the coffee delivery comes and someone makes a pot of coffee, so I can wake up. Stupid caffeine. Maybe I should start trying to wean myself off of it. It would be nice for a change to be awake first thing in the morning rather than glare at people until I have had my coffee. I'm rather evil in the mornings until I have had that dosage of caffeine.

I Feel Like ASS

Post St. Patrick's Day Hangover at work sucks. It's not even from the alcohol, I didn't have that much compared to what my max limit usually is, I barely slept. Normally, people who have to wake up at 6:45 AM and get home at 1:30 go right to bed. Not me. I get home, fool around on the computer, stuff my face, watch some TV and then decide to go to bed at about 3:30 AM. Friggin idiot! I love when people comment, "Wow - you look tired, out partying last night?" Thanks, I know I look tired.

Every Irishman within a twenty foot radius of me last night, whether he was thirty or sixty, was like "Hey, how you doin? You Irish?" I was having fun telling them, "No actually, I'm a dirty Scot." The name throws them off (along with the red hair). Not all redheads are Irish, duh. Some are Scottish or French or both, like me, with a little German (ok, almost half) thrown in. Yeah Normandie!

I think I might feign sickness later today and try and go home early so I can sleep more. Is that bad?

Fun Trivia Update

Ok, I did this once before, but I am bored at work, so I thought I would update.

Three Names You Go By: Erin, Red, Big Red Monica-Miranda
Three Screennames You Have: ChicErin, stuartlarkn69 (haha)
Three Things You Like About Yourself: my cynicism, my straight up bitchiness, my red hair
Three Things You Dislike About Yourself: I procrastinate, my temper, and my calves (don't ask, it's weird I know)
Three Parts of Your Heritage: German, French, Scottish
Three Things That Scare You: Dying and having people remember me as the crazy old lady with a hundred cats, Homeless people on crack (ok, they're just really annoying on the subway when they start talking to you), Nuclear war
Three of Your Everyday Essentials: my mp3 player, caffeine, internet
Three Things You Are Wearing Right Now: a grey sweater, my cool new pair of pants, and black knee-high boots
Three of Your Favorite Bands/Artists (at the moment): Frou Frou, Dave Matthews Band, Kenny Chesney
Three of Your Favorite Songs at Present: Breathe No More by Evanescence, hour long dance mix of 90's pop songs (yes!), and Pieces by Sum 41
Three New Things You Want to Try in the Next 12 Months: get a real job, start taking voice lessons (although that's not really new), bartending
Three Things You Want in a Relationship (love is a given): honesty, great sex, humor
Two Truths and Lie: I ate way too much junk food today, I can't stop obsessing over March Madness, and I punched some guy in the face today on the subway
Three Physical Things About the Opposite Sex (or same) That Appeal to You: tall dark and handsome (that only counts as one), scruffy facial hair, nice back
Three Things You Just Can't Do: stop drinking caffeine, save money, eat spicy food
Three of Your Favorite Hobbies: music, blogging, watching movies
Three Things You Want to do Really Badly Right Now: kiss a boy, go dancing, visit Stephanie in Germany
Three Careers You're Considering: circus freak, publicist, marketing
Three Places You Want to Go on Vacation: St. Lucia, Australia, London
Three Kids Names: Girls - Emily, Ella, Helen; Boys - Sean, Matthew, Brady
Three Things You Want to Do Before You Die: get married and have children (yes, even I want to get married some day), visit Africa, ride in a hot air balloon

St. Patrick's Day

Yesterday was like, the best afternoon ever, so today better be just as good. I went shopping and bought fun new clothes, got a new purse, and THEN, as I was getting ready to leave work yesterday evening, Hot Russian Guy and I exchanged witty banter in the elevator and on the walk out of the building. I must say though, he was wearing this black turtleneck sweater that was not very flattering. It accentuated his stomach, which, I could tell was exhibiting a bit of a beer belly. That's okay though, he just misjudged on the shirt. We were chatting about the 4,5,6 lines and he asked me if I had to take them. I told him only for one stop and he looked at me and said, "That's not far, you should walk every day - is good for you" in his super sexy Russian accent. Um, thanks, hadn't realized that I was that FAT that I needed to walk those 10 blocks twice a day. Nevertheless, I held my own in the conversation. Yes!

No, I am not wearing green today. I'm sorry, it just wasn't in the outfit planning. I am in need of doing some serious laundry and sorry to say, today just isn't a green day. The only thing Irish about me is my name, other than that, the closest I get is Scottish. The Irish will tell you, that is not the same thing, at all. If I am feeling the need to get lucky (snicker), then I might stop by Duane Reade and pick up some clover garland or something. If one more person tries to pinch me, I might slap them.

How unfair is this? Some of the first round basketball games are tomorrow during the day (at least the ones that I care about, I know that others are today) so I don't get to watch them. I'm going to have to check Espn.com every five seconds to know the score. Bastards. This might mean going out tomorrow night to a bar and watching them - these games are important.

Today sucks. There are like 800 meetings at the office, so I won't be able to do all kinds of online shopping or anything. Don't they know that people at work don't really work? Hellooooo.

Mama Like....

I just adopted a baby, and it's name is Beaded Clutch. Ooooooo, pretty. I was agonizing over how much money I was spending (that, cough cough, I don't really have), but then my eyes were drawn to the shiny on the clutch. And it's pink. My new love. I am going to look so hot when I am carrying that around. Yessssssssss.

I can't wait to go home and try everything on again and do my happy dance in front of the mirror. Yes, I'm girly. So what?

Reasons Why Life Blows

That's right, I am going to complain right now. This quite possibly is shaping up to be the worst week ever. Partially for reasons other than these below, but here are a few:

1. The radiator in my bedroom is leaking AGAIN (3rd time). Of course, I can't turn it off because my landlord took the knob off to fix it last time, so I spent about an hour (from 3 AM to 4 AM) trying to screw it back on and then frustrated, tried to go back to bed. So yay, I am ridiculously tired now.

2. The downtain 4,5,6 trains were having "problems". I say this because I have no idea why, all I know is that they weren't running. Probably some crazy crackhead jumped in front of the train again. I got to the 59th street station, realized this, and had to walk the ten blocks to work. I know ten blocks isn't bad, but I hadn't even had my coffee yet. I don't function before I have my coffee. It just doesn't happen. I was amused though that so many people had to take the bus. They were all cramming themselves into the bus so slowly that I was walking down Lex faster than the bus was actually moving. Haha.

3. I have not had a Diet Coke in days. I'm starting to show signs of DC withdrawal. I made a promise to myself not to take any more money out of my account until I get paid on Friday, so I am stuck with the 5 dollars that I have in my wallet until then. Call it a mental exercise in will power, I suppose, but I am determined to teach myself some discipline in this arena.

4. Due to transit problems, four assistants are not here yet, so I get to do all of their work until they get here. How come we all have to live in the boroughs? Oh yeah, because assistants don't get paid anything.

So Fresh and So Clean

Another day spent working for the man. Well, men, I should say. The ratio of men to women in this office is about 1/4. And they're really quite peculiar men I have to say. They talk to themselves frequently on the way to and from the bathroom. Maybe that is just a finance thing though. But then someone else told me it's a Y chromosome thing. Whatever.

To save myself from ripping my own eyeballs out, I have already spent the morning reoganizing the reception area to insane perfection and updated all of the directories. In college, if I had a huge test to study for or some paper that I really didn't want to do, I would justify procrastinating by cleaning. And I'm not talking about just a little vacuuming - I'm talking room overhaul. I would organize my closets (that's right, my senior year, I had two closets), rearrange the furniture in my room, dust, vacuum, scrub. I was hardcore. And I like cleaning, dammit. Everything is so nice and pretty. I even like doing dishes. I know, I'm insane. Normal people seem perfectly happy to let their houses go into a state of disarray and general dirtiness, or get someone else to clean it for them. Where's the fun in that?

Bravo

Florida - you guys rock! Congrats on winning the SEC title Sunday! But now you're playing Ohio and state loyalty mandates that I must stay out of this one.

Whaaah Whaaah

Why is it that some men have this peculiar behavior that they engage in? It's like one little statement absolves them of all responsibility. They get drunk, proceed to act like assholes and then claim not to remember their behavior the next day. "Oh, I'm drunk, it will be okay to shove my hands down her pants without asking, even though my girlfriend (ok, she's really my fiancee, but I refuse to call her that) is standing in the other room. The next day, apology. "I'm drunk, so let me grab onto her arm and yank her onto the dance floor because obviously, this behavior is going to make her practically fall in love with me - forcing her to dance with me when she said no only three times. This will definitely do it." The next day, apology. I suppose that an apology is better than nothing, but what annoys me is that they even think about acting that way. Even if I am out with friends for the evening and have men come hit on me, no does not mean no to them. They continue to try and try to get me to dance, until finally I have to say, "I am not interested, and if you continue to piss me off, when my 300 pound boyfriend gets here, I am going to send him in your direction. " That typically works, but I shouldn't have to say that - a simple not interested should suffice.

I always say that you do things when you're drunk that you would not do sober, but you always think about doing it, you just typically have enough common sense not to engage in whatever behavior it is. I have never done something in a completely wasted state of mind that I wasn't already thinking about when I was sober. Sleep with someone? Thought about it sober. Streaked the hollow? Actually did it sober once. Smacked the crap out of someone? Thought about it sober, but knew better, so didn't. So apologizing for being really drunk is not a good apology. Own up to the fact that you're just a dick who needs a personality makeover, ASAP.

What's up with the New York 2012 Olympic Games Candidate City signs on the side of the subway cars? Like that's really going to make the difference of whether or not we get the Olympics.

Who's the Shit?

Guess who has a flat screen monitor at work now? Guess who is the envy of all the other assistants? That's right, me!!! It's not as nice as my flatscreen at home, but it's bigger, so in this case, we'll just say that bigger is better. Sweet!

Oh and by the way, if your name is Buttface, STOP calling me. I know that you won't read this, so I will try to send these thoughts subliminally. I am tired of talking with you or even hearing your voice. I erased your numbers, leave me alone. If you would have ever answered your phone to begin with, I could have told you this, but since I can never get a hold of you, I think the only solution now is to blatantly ignore you and maybe you will get the picture. I hate men, I really do.

Dear Jim Beam

Jimmy,

I now know that it is possible to love you and hate you at the same time. But you just taste so good, that I keep coming back for more. You tempt me with your reduced prices during happy hour. I am unable to resist this temptation, and I always say that I am never going back to you the next morning, when I feel less than stellar. But damn you, every time. Every time. I am unable to resist you. So, I just wanted to let you know that one of these days, I will be strong enough to overcome your persuasive powers, and will turn you down flat, and return to the first love of my life, Bacardi. Bacardi would have never treated me in such a manner.

Read For Funny

Some middle-aged man on the subway today told me I was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. I almost laughed at him and wanted to say, "Obviously, you haven't been looking too hard, buddy. This is New York City - if I am the best looking female this city has, well, we're in trouble." He continued to freak me out, so I moved to the other end of the subway car, immediately putting my headphones on. Why do the weirdos always talk to me? Do I have some pheromone for crazy that I give off and they can all know it and I don't?

Worst Day of My Life, What Do You Think?

Yesterday was a bad day. I mean really bad. I don't know if it was because the weather was super nice on Monday and then turned to crap yesterday, but then people had giant tree trunks stuck up their asses. Just because you think it's cool to act like an asshole doesn't make it right, people. Don't take it out on me either just because I'm the expendable employee. I technically don't work here either but that doesn't mean I wouldn't quit. I could find someplace else to do this pointless, mind-numbing, ass-kissing. There's one guy that hasn't even made eye contact with me or spoken to me in the 2 1/2 months that I have been here. You're not so high up there buddy that you're all that important.

"I will have my vengeance, in this life or the next." Let's hope today goes much more smoothly.

WTF

Vacation over. I have got to start looking for a job again. My lack of using brain functions is causing me to get stupider by the minute. Remember that 30,000 dollar a year education that I got? Wasting away as I type. I can't stand sitting at this desk anymore answering people's stupid questions about the company when they call the wrong number and demand why it isn't the correct one. I didn't dial the phone jack-ass. I actually had some woman bitch me out because she said I called her. I didn't, but someone here in the office must have, because the main number shows up on the Caller ID. But they get all pissy anyway when you try to explain that.

Is it 5:30 yet?

Please

Is today over yet? All I want to do right now is go home and catch up on Deadwood, Season 1 and count how many times the words fuck and cocksucker are used in a single episode. I bow down to the gods of television for their invention of HBO on Demand.

No more work, please. What would they do if I said I didn't want to do anything today. Can you make copies of this? No, actually, I don't feel like it. I want to go home. How about I do that instead and still get paid?

Chewbacca Was Here

Now that I am back from San Diego, I wish I wasn't. It's so nice to be on vacation, but all good things must come to an end. I think I have found where I will retire eventually. Florida is nice and all, but way too much humidity. San Diego is genius. It's warm all the time, but there's no humidity. How awesome is that? The people out there are way more relaxed than they are here. People aren't always in a huge hurry. I think mainly because everyone drives, so you know there's no way in hell you'll be on time for anything. In the mean time, I've got New York stuck in my system. I wouldn't trade it for anything right now.

Oh, by the way, Go Bucks! How do you like them apples?

Let me tell you about one of my top gross out factors in life. Hair. Not like hair on your head, but hair on the floor, hair left in the tub and sink, and especially hair in the shower drain. So disgusting. Now, being a person who sheds a lot and with longer hair now than I am used to having (growing out hair is a pain in the ass), you might think this is a little odd. Yeah, well, what can you do? I noticed the shower drain backing up a lot when I got back from San Diego, so I reached my hand down there and yanked. I had grabbed this massive wad of black and red hair. Seriously, it was like a wookie had been showering in my apartment. Insert wookie noise here. I quickly tossed it into the trash can and proceeded to wash my hands about four times. A bit compulsive you say? Yes. I can't stand wads of hair. Shudder. It's amazing how much two women shed. Maybe I should just shave my head and then I would never have to worry about it.

San Diego Rules

La Jolla 

View from Mount Soledad.