New Years.

Well, it's happened as it does every once per year: it's New Year's Eve. NYE is without a doubt my least favorite holiday of the year.  It comes fast, just a week after my favorite holiday of the year.  I think I'd rather take ten more single years on Valentine's Day than do New Year's Eve.  Okay, I take that back. I don't totally want to curse myself.  Sure, there is a lot of pressure at Christmas to find the perfect gift, catch-up with relatives, all that, but on New Years you have to do a lot of scary things: 1. Reflect on 365 days. 2. Plan for the next 365 days. and 3. Have the BEST NIGHT EVER! I woke up this morning and seriously considered going back to bed until tomorrow. Reflecting in small doses I can totally handle, but an entire year is a lot of reflection. And BEST NIGHT EVER! I definitely cannot handle that pressure.  Maybe because my version of the BEST NIGHT EVER! would be going to bed at like 10pm after watching Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee, and drinking a couple of mimosas but NOT having to pee afterwards. Can you imagine drinking legit anything and not having to pee afterwards?! That really WOULD be the best night ever.  Legit even a glass of milk past 7 can ruin a night for me.  I'm going to be terrible at being elderly.

Anyway, I guess I could do a mini-year-in-review type of thing. Here goes....

Accomplishments:
1. Graduated from masters program.
2. Sort of got life together.
3. Got an orange cat.
4. Moved into cute apartment.
5. Can make it through yoga without having a laughing fit/can sort of do the wheel.

Things I've learned:
1. 99% of men love whiskey and craft beer.

Yeah, that's pretty much it for what I've learned...Though to go further: I went on a lot of dates in the last year and looking back it has been a pretty ridiculous experience.  I would like to see a cartoon version of myself going on dates.  I would sit  home and watch that on TV.  I guess I say that because I felt like I was in a cartoon on most of these dates, like I was dating the exact same person in a slightly different cartoon body over and over again. This was a weird paragraph. Pretend it didn't happen.

So, what do I want to get out of 2015?!

Answer: adventure! Well, adventure that happens before 10pm of course.  I have done a lot of the "getting life together" and now I am ready for "adventure before 10pm".  It's gonna be great!! Or something. It'll be something.

Sunday Reflections.

Sunday is a good day for reflecting, so here it goes.

A year and a half ago, I said to myself: I will be happy if in a year I have a real job, a cute apartment, and an orange cat to match my lamps.  All of these things have in fact come true, so if you ever hear me complaining, you can punch me in the throat.

The Pats won a heck of a game today.  They're really killing it lately.  They showed pictures of Tom Brady over the years and heck, he was a bit dorky at times.  Made me think that I should slow down when swiping left on the fellas.  Then again, how long do I have to wait until they grow into their manhood? Tom is 37.  Should I be lenient on dudes who are 35 and under? Give them the benefit of the doubt, bank on them Bradying in the next two years???

Speaking of, I made myself go on a bowling date this weekend.  It went well in the sense that I have improved my best score from 27 to 48.  Granted, still pretty terrible, but I really have come along greatly since my last bowling date over the summer.  Like last time, there were no sparks.  But it's totally fine.  To celebrate my singlehood, I went to Whole Foods post-date and bought myself flowers, chocolate, and a frozen meal to eat in my pajamas.  Best idea ever.  Post every date from now on, I plan on getting myself a consolation prize. This time it was food and flowers, next time it could be a brand new car. Who knows.

That's all she wrote for today.

I Simply Cannot Hang Out With You.

To better my chances of getting on the nice list this year, I took my Gma out for a rendezvous today.  She is a nice lady, but calls for a decent amount of patience.  The first stop was CVS because the cashier neglected to take off the right amount the last time Gma was in and used a coupon.  Gma, still insanely undone from having been chipped $3.00, insisted on returning the cough drops and vitamins.  They were tainted now, afterall.  As we left the store, Gma commented that CVS has gone to hell and that she won't be shopping there anymore.  To keep up the fun, we hit up the local dollar store.  Grandma said that she needed to get Mary plastic wine cups.  Mary is her friend from the assisted living.  Together, Mary and Gma spend their time hitting the wine and gossiping about fellow residents. The dollar store was a success so next up: Macy's! Here, Gma told the workers all about me, bragging about accomplishments, and such.  "She is almost done with grad school, and she is such a good driver."  Grandma is probably the only person who thinks that I am a good driver.

Speaking of being almost done with school, Gma told me today that it is too bad that I have schoolwork today, or else she would keep me out even longer. And then it hit me: In less than a month, my go-to excuse will be gone.  Yes, I am beyond grateful that my schooling is coming to an end.  As aforementioned in previous posts, all of those reflections are really getting me down.  Not to mention, my brain is basically fried. But, when one's load gets a little lighter, it is harder to say, "Well, I really would love to hang out with you but I have so much work to do." or "Oh, I'm sorry I couldn't possibly come over and watch your children all afternoon on my day off." Actually, that sounds like a pretty damn valid thing to say.  Anyway, I've literally been banking on this excuse for a year and a half now.  On the bright side, maybe I will learn how to say no.  What I really want to say is just, "Oh, I'm terribly sorry but I simply cannot attend." I think I will start doing that.  Oh, I'm terribly sorry but I simply cannot come to work today.  Oh, I'm terribly sorry but I simply cannot go out with you." This is great, actually. Who needs excuses, real or not? A simply cannot should suffice.

Pole Dancing-Just Not Gonna Cut It.

I tried on Thursday, the pole dancing.  It wasn't my first time.  Back in 2007 I also had an experience with a pole.  It wasn't for me back then, and it still isn't for me today.  Granted, the swinging part is kind of fun, but it really is not much in terms of dancing.  So, if all else fails and I need a career change, I guess I am leaning more towards the chair dancing route. Two days later and my entire upper body is still killing me.  Remember that the next time you hit up the club: they work hard for the money.  Anyway, so I think I am going to try a new dance class a week, which will last me two more weeks since I live in Providence and nothing is here.  Nothing is here is great when it equates to there are no people here, but otherwise...eeeehhhh.  This week: ballet. Update to come.

It's officially sleeping bag weather again. Agh.  Circa 2010, a dude biked by me and yelled, "Nice sleeping bag," alluding to my crazy-ass coat.  The coat is back.  I look ridiculous but my giblets are in tact so that's a plus.

What else.

I had brunch with my friend today at a diner.  The food was pretty par, but the bathroom situation, let me tell you....  Points for privacy, points off for navigation to.  It was one of those go through the kitchen to get to the bathroom scenes.  A waitress took my as far as the kitchen and then proceeded to inform the staff that I was "coming through" except that I actually couldn't proceed to go through because as the waitress was informing the others of my need to pee, she abruptly stopped moving, thus blocking the entrance for me to walk through.  A minute or two passed, before I thankfully managed to make it past the kitchen, down the stairs, and proceeded to walk for another three minutes or so.  My bladder thanked me for my determination.  Also, it was sort of like an adventure.  Then again, if this is what qualifies as an adventure these days, what is that saying about me?! Ah.

Currently, I am trying to rally and complete one productive activity so I can get to the rest of my weekend aka watching holiday movies on the Hallmark Channel.

Channeling Bey, Day 1.

Today was the first full day of channeling Beyonce and I basically kicked ass.  I killed it at work, teaching like a champ, what what.  In fact, someone even commented in the teacher's room that I was extra peppy today.  I was like, "Yo, channeling Bey, holla."  They said, "What?!" I was like, "Yo, I had a few lackluster days and I was thinking this is lame sauce, so yesterday, I listened my girl Bey all day and reminded myself how great I am and bam, here I am holdin' it down, basically killing it."  The teachers were astounded.  One stated, "Can't you be here all day, every day?" I said, "No, I cannot. But Beyonce, all day every day, that can happen."

Anyhoo,

Post work, I called a number and inquired about some pole dancing classes.  I figure, once I'm done with grad school, I should probably start pole dancing.

I also ran 3.5 miles because I've got legs and stuff.

This is a vocab. quiz I am giving tomorrow. Turn on your side and give it a look.

Please notice that Seth Meyers is on this quiz. Also, teaching "abhor" was difficult for me because I kept stressing the "hor" (whore) by accident.

In other news, I am super loopy....in case you couldn't tell.

Beyonce, all day, every day.

It is no secret that I want to be Beyonce when I grow up.  She pretty much epitomizes all that is right in the world.  A few years ago, I took the step of at least taking some dance classes from her choreographer.  Get low, get low. Anyway, just as she once wondered what it would be like if she were a boy, I wonder what my life would be like if I were her.  For one, I would not have to do do any BS work.  In general, it would literally be cut out of my life.  That portfolio I need to do for work? I would hire someone to do that ish. Realistically, who knows if I'd even have a job.  Dating. I may hire someone to go on dates for me to screen the guys.  Or, I would hire someone to create a dashing mask to conceal all of my eye rolls.

Speaking of dating, let's take a minute to discuss what the scene is looking like out there. The online sites are rather hilarious, if not kind of depressing.  So many shirtless pics, fishing pics, rocker pics, cross fit pics. So much terrible. Basically, I am just going to listen to Beyonce on repeat.

Ugh, this just in though. I told my co-worker I wanted to be Beyonce when I grow up and he said, "Aren't you like thirty? You're already a grown-up." And then I was really sad. 

In good news, I am getting taller. Yoga is doing the trick. So much so that my leg lengthened to the point of crossing into someone else's yoga zone.  Yup, my foot hit that B in the head.  She fell over. I felt kind of bad, but mainly felt awesome.

Ummm....nothing else really exciting is going on.  Let's see.  Christmas decorations are going up.  Spread cheer, holla.  That's pretty much it.  I'm hoping for non-brain dead activity in December.  You know what happens in December? I'm done with grad school.  This is very exciting stuff.  The whole working full-time/schooling full-time is making me less fun I fear, and I'm basically done with it.  Plus, all that reflecting is driving me nuts.  Hey, let's write a 2 page reflection on blah blah blah.  Hey, let's talk about a dilemma and reflect on how we could make it better. Hey, let's not.  Reflecting is killing my soul. Let me just listen to Beyonce and dance around, for the love of Pete.

Oh and hey, I woke up like this, I woke up like this. God damn, God damn!

Is this the gynecologists?

I am pretty upbeat. I value life, all that jazz. But last Monday, I woke up wanting to punch throats, and for  no apparent reason. I've had the agh this sucks moments where a legit throat punch would make sense, but this sort of edge came from a place unknown.  As soon as I left my apartment on Monday, I knew, I'd need a miracle this week. Everyone was getting on my s list. Seriously, no one was safe. You could be my grandma or in kindergarten, didn't matter; chances are you were annoying the heck out of me.  I managed to squeak by until Thursday, the day I was going to a new gyno in Providence. Perhaps part of my foul mood was the anticipation. I really hate going to the doctors. I held my head high at the dentists last week and also through various work meetings and such, but my threshold for obligatory non-fun activities was at an all time low. To make matters worse, I naturally got lost, for an hour. My GPS kept telling me to go into the Marriott. I ignored the persistent voice but finally bit the bullet. I thought, maybe the doctor's office is in the hotel? That would be sweet! I started walking towards the hotel's entrance but didn't see any signs for a gynecologist's office.  I called the office.  They told me that they were located across the street from the Marriott.  I dodged multiple lanes of traffic, darting cars, and made it to a brown building.  Once inside, a made-up lady asked me if I was lost. "Ah, is this is the gynecologists?" She laughed and I looked at the sign: I was in the ABC 6 New Building. Of course I was.  I called the doc's again. They told me they were across the other street.  I darted back across the lanes, finally making it into my car.  I took a deep breath and started over.  And then I proceeded to turn onto a one way in the complete opposite direction of where I was supposed to be going. Oh look, I'm at the state offices, great.  Thirty minutes later, I made my way to the office, which was less than a mile from the Marriott. And of course, right across the street from a plaza that I have frequented many times before.  At this point, I'm beyond flustered. I send out a text to my friend: actually I can't hang out tonight.  I fill out paperwork and play the waiting game. Super anxious because I'm about to be invaded/if I have to get a blood test I may just lose my giblets.  Finally, I'm ushered into a tiny room, the walls adorned with large posters of lady parts.  I mean, why do I need to see this?! Okay, okay, a little poster, fine, but nothing that enlarged. Terrible town.  Anyway, I manage to survive the actual exam. It all looks good down there. And the blood test ladies were great because a. they found my veins just fine b. they told me I wasn't going to pass out and I actually did NOT pass out and c. they compared me to the chick on Bones which is funny because I often get compared to Zooey Deschanel and they're sisters, so maybe they could hire me to fill-in at family functions and stuff. Anyway, I was feeling super jazzy that I didn't pass out, I managed to make it to my apartment without getting lost, and then I had nice tea with my nice neighbors, so that was nice and stuff.

I was in a slightly better mood on Friday. But then it rained on Saturday and it went all downhill.  My dear mother tried to make me feel better by putting on three disco cds and making me dance for over an hour and a half.  There is a video.  I don't want to embarrass her, but really, I don't know if I could because damn, she's got some moves! I attempted to go out last night too, but that didn't really work out.  I waited over an hour and a half for meatless food and well, meatless food and waiting for food....neither sit well with me. After dinner, my friends and I attempted to go out to bars.  Of course, I forgot where I had parked for a good fifteen minutes so that delayed the evening of not finding anywhere good to go. I also remembered that I prefer not going out but rather wearing pajamas in the comfort of my own apartment.  This does not bode well for meeting fellows, but at this point, warm apartment wins out.

Anyway. This is Columbus Day Weekend. Big doings.

Live blogging from the train, Part Deux.

The actual train ride was tolerable. Though, as I responded to student journal entries, I found myself getting slightly train sick. No biggie though. And there was the old dude rocking the Foxy Lady hat who swapped stories with the train conductor regarding their stints in rehab/jail. Sort of gave me more respect for the conductor for if it wasn't for witnessing this interaction,  I'd think he lacked personality.

Anyway. I got off at Back Bay and MIRACULOUSLY turned myself in the RIGHT direction to get to Northeastern.  Background information: I lived in Boston for five years (2002-2007), I went to Northeastern for undergrad, and I've walked these streets COUNTLESS times. Yet, somehow, for the last year as I've been attending grad school back at NEU  (alumni tuition discount, holla), I've managed to get myself lost. Literally,  lost every single time I have class. Two weeks ago, I managed to get myself lost for a good 45 minutes,  exploring parts of Boston I didn't know existed, and showing up fashionably late for a meeting.  Mind you,  the walk from Back Bay is literally a straight shot mile (or less). I feel like I should take this time to explain that I haven't always been this brain dead. Honestly,  I was quite smart until I started taking so many classes in conjunction with working and then all of a sudden my steel trap became a lint trap.

So, as I was saying,  I managed to  NOT get lost and for once had the opportunity to revel in my surroundings. Though,  perhaps I always revel and that's why I'm usually lost?! ANYWAY.  Revelling had me taking in above average looking guys playing a round of basketball.  I think I need to start hanging out at the courts, in addition to coffee shops, laundromats (find my missing sock!), book stores, and record stores, as a means to meet the fellas. I mean, I totally rocked at hoops back in the 4th grade. Killed it. I started a coffee shop scope last Sunday which went relatively well. Though,  I need to brainstorm pick-up lines....Can I go up to a barista and say: "You see that guy over there? You know the one pretending to do a report on his laptop?  Yeah, that one.  A. Do you think we'd look totally cute together? ! And B. Can you send him a frapuccino and say it's from me? Subtle like though.  Know what I mean?"

Whoa. Back to the night at hand. So, I was like, wicked stoked, that I managed to get to Northeastern with time to spare. Usually,  I'm crashing in five minutes late all Kramer-like. Ah, yes, people have actually commented on this. Unfortunately,  I got too jazzed too soon because once I got to Northeastern I found myself getting lost in the same building that A. I had class in two weeks prior and B. That I had class in for four years during undergrad aka MY BRAIN IS FRIED. Thankfully,  I did manage to make  it to class with three minutes to spare and was congratulated by my friend who was completely surprised by my non-Kramer-crash entrance. I was proud.

Class. Ah. What can I say. We did skits. I talked about my cat. Another classmate referred to "reflections" as being pointless which was awesome because A. It's true and B. It's basically the basis of this entire course/masters program. So many reflections. I am reflected OUT. I may be one of the few females out there who is officially sick of talking about her feelings.  F feelings.  Reflections, be gone!

Tonight is a really big night for me because not only did I manage to avoid the Kramer-crash, but I also ran out of class BEFORE it was over!!! I'm beyond proud. Basically,  I live an hour away and depend on the commuter rail. For the last year of classes,  I've stayed until the very last minute,  often resulting in missing the early train and having to wait around for another hour. It's my last semester,  and as you've noticed, I'm not exactly getting any smarter, and at this point,  I value sleep (what I can muster of it), so I ran out. Literally,  ran out. I felt rude,  but mainly, I felt inspired by myself for looking out for myself!!! And I made that early train with just three minutes to spare! !! Let it be known, however: running in a pencil skirt really shortens one's stride. I mean, I still made good time because I got mad sprinting skillz, but pencil skirts; flattering,  yes. Good for splits and sprints (and peeing), no.

Live blogging from the train station.

The station:

I'm sitting on a bench.  People decide to come and sit right next to me. I had to slide over.

There was all this space where they could be sitting.

The platform:

All of a sudden the horrific,  distinct sound hits my ears. Some herb is cutting his nails. I turn around.  Just a foot away,  a man naturally, in flip flops,  is trimming his fingernails as if it's the most natural thing in the world. 

Overheard:

Conversation about Lucy who is a B and is only tolerable because she gives b jobs. She doesn't even make the chicken right. Nobody wants the house special anymore.

Weird voice.

Does this happen to anyone else: you haven't talked to someone in at least 36 minutes,  and then, bam! A person is there. You're stirring your cappuccino and you look up and there's that person.  Of course, you have to say hi because it's the polite thing to do, but it's like you've forgotten to how to speak in your normal voice.  Thus, you say "hello" in a sketchy deep man's voice even though you're real voice is semi-high. Then, in your head you're like, what the heck was that? And next thing you know you're apologizing for speaking in such a crazy voice.

Also, I don't really like cappuccinos, yet I'm sitting here with a large.

Additionally,  lately when I order salads and request honey mustard dressing,  I end up legit getting straight up mustard.  While I definitely see the similarities,  they're not the same.

Gonna go drink more of this disgusting cappuccino. ..

Yoga.

I'm always looking for ways to enhance the life and yoga seemed like a good option. God knows I could work on that whole relaxing thing.  And it's been going pretty well, that was, until this week. I went on Monday. I wasn't in the mood to go, but I went anyways. I was running late, so I had to drive instead of walk. I enjoy the great outdoors, but sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do. Being all in a rush, I ended up parking in a tow zone.  Naturally, it's impossible to focus on my Ujjayi breath when I'm thinking about my car getting towed. And the incense...oh, the incense. Scent is my strongest sense which oftentimes works against me. There are a lot of things in life you just don't want to smell. Have you ever wondered why the smiley face is often missing a nose? Most likely because it wouldn't be smiling if it smelled its surroundings. Anyhoo, the incense was something fierce and something yucky when it hit my nostrils. So, I'm all "relax, or else" but literally can't because ya know my car is about to get towed and the smell is literally killing me. To top it all off, the instructor had the WORST New England accent ever.  No offense to accents or anything, we've all got them, but ya know, if you have a strong one, don't become a news anchor or yoga teacher.  Downward facing dog is something else and something not pretty when it becomes "downwahd facin dahg". Brutal.

The Black Keys and CitiCards.

Ummm....I've been feeling really uninspired lately---work, school, blah blah blah. Life, man, But, I just had a most enjoyable discussion with a dude from CitiCards. I know, you're thinking, how is this possible? But remarkably, I tend to have top notch convos with these ladies and gents from various states, countries and continents.  Today's man was coming at me from India.  Before I get into why he's awesome, I should probably start with the background information, which is kind of lame.  Lame in the sense, that I bought second row tickets to the Black Keys and was super excited to go, but reality has sunk in.  Reality being that I have to work at 7am on Monday and can't take a day off from teaching yet, and that it is not just a regular work day, but it is a work day plus grad school day aka death day, so late night fun the day before, not really an option.  Run-on sentence, long winded action, shocker.  Let's move on. Short story long, being all responsible and shiz, I offered up my ticket to one of my bro and sis-in-law's friends.  Of course, since I bought the ticket there is all this hoopla about needing my card to enter the venue.  So, I had to call and talk to CitiCards for a good long while tonight. The lovely man from India asked me what concert I was missing.  Upon hearing that it was the Black Keys, he started singing one of their songs to me which was nothing short of amazing.  We then spent the next few minutes talking about how he saw GNR the last time they went to India.  I told him I was totally jealous, he chuckled, more singing happened, followed by more chats, and finally, our goodbyes.  Now, as much as I'm sad that I cannot attend this Sunday's show on account of life happening, I am quite jazzed that I got to engage in some Black Keys/GNR singing with this lovely man.

The end.

WHOA. So, post-thought. I'm in the middle of chatting with my friend about how the guy at her bodega complimented her choice of kimchi, saying it "had good color". Duh, I need more bodegas and telemarketers in my life. This is what my life is missing!!! More talks with randoms. Though, there is that man at the park who wears wife beaters who I talk to that now wants to go on a lunch date and I don't feel good about that. So, on an after-post-thought, maybe I'm totally off with this....

Dentistry and Dating Oneself.

Well, if dating isn't the thing that's gonna kill me, passing in the halls of the junior high surely will.  True story, fourth graders are currently clocking in at my height.  I got body checked by a sixth grader today.  Don't even get me started as to what happens at the high school.  The only way to tell me apart from a student is the lovely school id that hangs around my neck.  It matches all of my outfits-the lovely maroon color (sarcasm here).  Where kids are not good for knocking me over, they are good for the ego.  A girl turned to me, practically in awe and said: "I love your dress. It's so pretty. You always look so pretty. How do you do it?" Girl, I want to put you in my pocket and carry you around with me all damn day.  That's the kind of talk I should be talking to myself, but I, like way too many of us, am way too my hard on myself.  For goodness sake, when I found out I had cavities I spent a good solid four minutes apologizing to the dentist.  I brush, I swear! Today I got those two cavities filled. Nothing like dentistry to get you questioning how you are able to breathe.  I had all this shiz in my mouth and my face had gone completely numb and I was sitting there trying to figure out how to breathe through my nose.  Forget yoga people, dentistry is the ultimate way to gain breath focus. Also, if I'm sitting there wondering how to breathe through my nose, does this therefore insinuate that I'm generally breathing through my mouth?! Certainly NOT attractive! As good ol' Mary Poppins would say. "Close your mouth, Michael. You are not a codfish."

I don't know if it is the Novocaine or what, but I am feeling much (well, slightly) better about life today.  I came to realize that the only person I should be dating right now is myself.  That sounds totally weird, but it is true.  I need to focus on being kinder to myself and re-realizing what makes me happy.  So far, I know that music makes me happy.  In my low times, I have found myself turning to the obvious choices: 80s power ballads, Sinatra, Coltrane, a little indie rock, and lots of hip hop.  People are often surprised by my KILLAH persona, but here's the thing: much of the hip hop music/culture epitomizes something that I desire to encompass; that being seriously not giving a damn.  Everyone thinks Kanye West is a total dickward, and perhaps this is true, but you know what, he does not care! He does not care! It's a beautiful thing. My brother once turned to me and said, "Do you think Jay Z cares if some b turns him down?!" Certainly not, for he is "onto the next one"! The Ying Yang Twins are also quite wise: "You fine, but I ain't gonna sweat you."  And there is of course Bone Crusher who "ain't never scared, what! East side!" as well as the ever energetic Lil Jon: "Don't start no shit, it won't be no shit." And  Lil Wayne "talks to himself because he's his own consultant." Aka trust yourself, peeps! I could go on and on...It's all really great advice. REALLY.

Besides listening to music and solo dance parties, I also really enjoy talking to random people. Lately I have been chatting up a 60 year-old man in the park, and not gonna lie, we've become sort of bffs.

When it does come to dating a real dude again however, I wonder where I will meet him.  I have observed many an attractive fella driving by in a car.  Now, I have no qualms about holla-rin' at dudes as they walk by for there is not the matter of the window blockage.  But how does one literally get a message across through a vehicle...Any thoughts on this matter?!

Additionally, I am super broke right now. Mo' money, mo' problems though, so all good, right. With that said, I don't want to spend money on cat litter, and am wondering if it is a good idea to dig up dirt from a nearby park and throw it in Cheddar's box?! Probably not???

And now, in honor of being true to oneself and going full speed ahead, here's some Kanye. Good people, before he became totally egotistic, he got his jaw wired shut and drank an Ensure for dessert.  Not only do I relate to Mr. West right now because I am coming into my own as he once did, but also because I will too be drinking an Ensure for dessert (on account of the numb face).

Be good to yourself.

Killah K Weighs in on Dating.

So, here are my thoughts on dating: it is the worst. There are a lot of terrible and unfortunate ways to die and I'm not entirely convinced that dating won't be the death of me.

June had me headed to New York.  A certain dude knew I was coming and I was excited to see him.  Once I arrived, said dude was "too tired" to hang out....for the entire weekend.  This came after months of him pulling the Houdini act followed by the inevitable resurfacing to tell me how much he likes me.  And I was dumb enough to fall for it.  So, I'm in NY, the first two nights staying with friend and her fiance; the fiance whose name is of course the same as the dude who just blew me off. Again. To make matters worse, of course my friend and I saw Heathers the musical and watched Heathers the movie, aka this was a funny, campy movie except now that is real life and is about everyone dying in a school and hey, I work in a school, and this is depressing.  My parents had gotten me a hotel stay for my birthday and so my last night in NY I watched A Long Way Down, a film adapted by a book by Nick Hornby which I enjoy, but of course, is about suicide and also, a bit depressing. Oh, and I cried relentlessly on fancy sheets.  Good thing about this trip is I became officially over New York, finally.

July had me trying to "date around" as the good people say.  It's healthy, they're telling me.  Well, I went on a few dates with one guy, a postdoc at the age of 28; how the hell does that happen?! Also, why did I keep falling for musicians and now literally every guy is trying to be or is a professor? Two professions to cross of my list, for sure.  Anyway.  He was actually pretty great but I was still too sad over the NY Numbnuts that I couldn't handle it.  Then, I met this other dude.  He was too embarrassed to meet me in person, having "met" me online, so he just wanted to come over my apartment.  Well, I figured if I didn't die, it'd be a story anyway. And I did ask him straight out: "Are you going to kill me", which he replied, "No, probably not." But seriously, not a good idea, people. Don't have random strangers come over your apartment.  Thankfully though, he did not kill me! Score! Well, this guy and I talked literally for an hour and a half.  He had some good values, I didn't mind him, but it was an hour and a half.  Two days later I received a paragraph text saying he is absolutely into me and asking if I felt the same way.  He spent the next month and a half texting me and asking me to cuddle which creeped me out.  I finally told him to stop and he agreed but not before asking if we could have a "physical" relationship.  After I said no, literally two seconds later, he said he wants to be friends at least, that I'm cool.  The next night he texted me at 11:30 pm, asking what I'm up to.  Seriously, people?! Seriously??

Then there was the week where I went out with both a Jay and a JJ.  It was becoming confusing to keep these dudes straight at this point.  Summer is supposed to be a relaxing time, but it felt like I took on a new full-time, NON-PAYING, terrible job with weird hours.  So much, "wanna get a drink at ten pm?" happening.  Honestly, no I'd rather be in bed, or at least doing something summery like throwing water balloons than meeting with you over a drink at 10pm, but sure, let's do it! JJ was actually pretty cool but he had three kids; one of whom happened because of Osama Bin Laden, I was informed five minutes into the date.  He needed some comfort from the terror of 911 and so ran into the arms of an ex and whoop, baby number one.  WHAT?! The worst/best part about the night is that I bowled a 27. Literally, a 27.

Not all was lost-or so I thought.  I did meet one guy that I actually liked and who made me forget about NY Numb-nuts.  This guy has a crazy ex who messaged me that I am a "hore" all day,  I kept texting back that truly I am not, and also, that is not how you spell whore.  But I looked past the bad spelling incident and tried to give him a try.  Unfortunately, I was a bit spent from my dating whirlwind, which includes more guys than have been mentioned, and was maxed out aka a huge bucket of nerves and dreadfully in my head.  Can he really like me? Is he gonna disappear? Does he have secret children? I was starting to become crazy too. At one point he was stressed and told me to "not take it personally".  In my experience, when a guy tells you to not take something personally, it usually means trouble is ahead.  Warning signs! Because the phrase "don't take it personally" makes me think: well then, how the hell am I supposed to take it?! Recently, this dude fell off for four or so days.  I felt the Houdini coming on.  I went on Tinder.  I'll swipe some dudes to the left, that'll make me feel better. Plus, I should probably see what is out there considering I am about to never hear from this guy again.  Well, don't you know that Don't Take It Personally is on Tinder again, how convenient! And of course, this is where I become Crazy Killah and feel completely rejected, and send out a string of insane text messages even though I am way better than the way I am acting.  Finally, my inbox is flooded with comments about how I am being cruel and how we aren't compatible anyway.  He is allergic to cats, afterall.  Here is a serious question: is every guy allergic to cats?! Seriously! IS EVERY GUY ALLERGIC TO CATS?! Speaking of being a cat lady; yo, cats can be total dicks, like guys.  Cheddar Cat has chewed up my blinds and my legs, but you know what he hasn't done? He has not told me he will call and then not called, and he has not disappeared (except for that one time where he went missing in the basement)!!!!!!!

When it boils down to it, I am not looking for someone to see EVERY SINGLE DAY or to buy me fancy dinners or to have constant heart-to-hearts with.  I just would like to meet a guy who can handle calling or texting me back and who, if he ever wants to stop seeing me, WILL TELL ME. Instead, there are the Houdini's and the claims that "I really like you, but we are not compatible" aka you're telling me a bunch of crap, but thanks.  Compatibility is a bunch of BS.  Well, maybe it isn't, but it has become a lame excuse for "this is too hard right now, but here is a buzzword that will get you off my back".

What especially kills me, is that every experience that turns south, has me second guessing myself and acting in a way that is not me.  This is something that the Killah needs to work on.  I should be very resilient by now-having been accused of grand larceny, having bowled a 27, having had bits of my heart chipped off since grade 3 or so, but I pretty much just feel like crap after all this.  Usually, this is the point where I will start "working on myself".  There was a long while where I worked so hard on myself that I became intimidated by me---who the hell can handle dating this totally fit, totally smart, totally awesome chic?! Well, it appeared that no one could.  But ya know what people, it's lonely at the top, and as the great and wise Frank would say: that's life.

And this is the portion of my life where I start listening to this song nonstop on repeat.

Are you kidding me with life right now?!

Today:

1. Terrible, terrible, TERRIBLE!!! encounter with a bad speller.

2. My dad and I helped the popo arrest a dude.

3. Price is Right with legit elderly people.

I don't even think I can handle blogging about my life right now but this is how I feel:

Eye Docs Part Deux.

Once again, the eye doctors did not disappoint. Damn, I really love it there.  This time I went to get some shiz removed from my face.  Sort of like a skin tag, but with a fancy name that I never could pronounce, so we'll just refer to it as stuff. And no, this stuff was not like huge or gross or anything, just there, and so I figured maybe it shouldn't be.  So, I'm sitting in this chair, they put a needle in my face.  Not a fan. Not a fan.  The needle is to insert the numbing gunk so that I don't feel the actual procedure.  Guess what? I feel that damn needle in my face.  The whole procedure was not actually that bad however.  Every once in a while, I'd make one of my ugh sounds, and the nice doctor man asked me if I was in pain, and I'd say no, but why do they have to pass the tools in front of me? And then all of a sudden the tool of choice became some burning stick tool thing (as in to burn off the stuff).  My "ugh" got really big then. "Are you okay?!" He's all concerned.  "Ah, the smell. I just don't like the smell!" And this is when I started talking about how I like cheeseburgers because I guess the burning smell reminded me of cheeseburgers? God only knows.  The nice doc man also really likes cheeseburgers though. He's okay with me calling up the office to give cheeseburger recs.

Also, he put a band-aid on my face and said I'd be reppin' the Nelly look.  He agreed that Nelly didn't have the best stuff, but still, the band-aid makes the reference makes sense.

Then again, about Nelly not actually being good, "Shake Your Tail Feather" came on my 2000s Hip Hop Pandora station, and it really is kind of catchy.

Eye Doctors for Emotional Support/Wearing Ex's Shirt=lame.

Okay, so there is that small part of me who can see the "beauty" in photographing heart broken women wearing their ex-lovahs' shirts, but basically I just think this is a Terrible Idea!!! I mean, obviously you're depressed, do you really need everyone in the world to see this public pining?! Sort of terrible, and by sort of, I mean completely.  Imagine the ex looking at this?! If anything, perhaps there should be photos of women burning these shirts?? Wouldn't that make more sense???

In other news, the eye doctors, I find, is an excellent confidence booster.  I have been twice in the last two weeks.  Since I'm on vacation, I'm basically always at a doctors of some sort, because I'm elderly, and besides eating dinner at 4 pm, what else is there to do? Anyway, the eye doctors. Great times! Well, minus the not being able to see for most of it due to the contacts being out.  Anyhoo. Every time I'm at the eye doc's, I always warn them that I am indecisive and determining which picture looks better will most likely be extremely difficult for me, and annoying for them.  Yet, every time I said "Ah, I'm not sure?" they responded with "Great! Good job!" In my head I'm thinking, okay, so I literally can't tell you if picture a or picture b looks better and I'm probably messing up this whole test, yet, I'm still doing great?! This is amazing! The best is when they asked me what my birthday is.  "June 6th," I replied.  I was confident in this answer, and they rewarded me, big time.  "You're right! Awesome! It is June 6th!!" Seriously?! I will pay a $15 copay and get poked in the eye EVERY SINGLE DAY for the rest of my life to feel this supported in life.  It's really a great feeling.

This is all I've got....

Inside my brain, right now:

1. George Lucas museum is opening up in Chicago. For some reason, I keep thinking I'm reading that a George Lopez museum is opening up.

2. Raisins should not be so hard to find. I am relatively obsessed with them lately.  The same stupid store down the street that does not sell lemon juice, also does not sell raisins.

3. My cat should spend more time killing bugs instead of looking at bugs. It's pathetic, really.

4. First pants, then your shoes. But what if you're not wearing pants? 

5. The prophet I met the last week claimed that I should be feeling "lighter"...Do you think this lightness takes a few days to kick in? Not feeling all that light yet. If anything, I'm feeling heavier than usual....

Real life stories have been happening and need to be blogged about ASAP: Mermaid Parade, crafting, life stuff. Wait for it, wait for it! It's coming. I just need to organize the brain and tackle a to-do list first!

Turning 80.

It seems I'm about to turn 80, not 30. I tried to go out last night, crash a bachelorette party, because I've heard that's the healthy thing to do (going out, not crashing bachelorette parties).  Dude, the pregnant chick lasted longer than me.

I don't know what ya'll talk about with your parents, but my mom definitely turned to me the other day and said, "So, TI got into a fight with Floyd Mayweather, huh? Do you know what this fight is about?" Before I could answer, she went on, "I wouldn't mess with Floyd." Then lots of laughter. "It happened at a Fatburger! This is amazing! Oh my, they were throwing chairs!"

Romeo and Juliet/the most boring post ever.

So, I'm doing Romeo and Juliet with my high school crew. Unfortunately, I've decided that Shakespeare is pretty boring.  Maybe boring is not the right word, but dude needs to get to the point.  So much "Thou art like one of those fellows that, when he enters the confines of a tavern, claps me his sword upon the table and says 'God send me no need of thee!' and blah blah blah" Then the kids ask me what the hell he means, and I'm like "dude is still talking about the same thing he has been talking about for the last 5 pages. Mercutio is calling Benvolio a hothead. Benvolio senses beef is gonna go down. the usual."  On the rare occasion when we actually pronounce the words correctly, I marvel for a good thirty seconds about how Shakespeare has mad rhyming skills, then my appreciation for him has once again, gone away.  The cool part about teaching this however, is that I get to go over some nifty literary terms.  Literally, as I was going over the climax of a story, my students and I simultaneously busted out to the song by Usher. Such sweet harmonies and falsetto, holla.  And monologues have been a true delight because it basically means that I show them clips from The Late Show, SNL, and the Tonight Show.  There's lots of "Are you guys done with reading? How about some #hashtags?"  Right now, one of my students is in the process of memorizing Kevin Hart's monologue from SNL and will be forced to perform with much gumption this Friday.

What else....well, though I do try to maintain a healthy lifestyle, I decided to drown my sorrows with a 3 pm dinner at Five Guys yesterday (because I am elderly and like cheeseburgers).  Not wanting to totally give up on life, I went to spin class in the evening.  Needless to say, I pretty much sweated out the food.  The entire workout room smelled like fries and a little cheeseburger afterwards.  Gross.  But delicious.

Ummm....

Came home yesterday to find my sock in my cat's dinner bowl.

Speaking of cats, I'm evidently a bad influence on my four year-old niece, as she stated the other day: "I don't like people. I just like cats, just like Kristen."

This is an entirely boring post, terribly sorry. You know what's not boring though? Cage diving with sharks aka what I've decided to do for my upcoming birthday.  

One Eyed Jack.

I'm not sure if his name is Jack, but he definitely has one eye. I got to talking to some lady on the train (naturally) about online dating. From my experience, online dating is the equivalent of the taking all of the herbs you'd meet at a bar and putting them on one convenient site. Score! So anyway, she was telling me this story about how she met her boyfriend online and they dated for years and while it was actually a pretty good (yet tragic, sad) story, it is too personal and not mine to tell. But one-eyed Jack, I feel no qualms about getting into that one. Anyway, she was telling me how she went on a date recently and not only was the guy way shorter than denoted online, he also only had one eye. I'm not even talking about a glass eye situation, just legit one eye was missing. Also, I am not hating on one-eyes. I mean, honestly, I don't want to see half the things I have to on a regular basis....Nevertheless, you may be wondering how she did not pick up on this from his pictures. I certainly was. Evidently, the dude only had pictures of his profile up. Pretty smart if you ask me. Also, this guy spent a year living out of his car in the middle of nowhere as a means to get life material to write about. Hey, he now has stuff published in New York Times. Maybe I should go live in my car.  Might improve my writing!

In other news, today the fifth grade class was subjected to the dreaded video about how the body changes. I remember watching that and being so appalled I didn't talk to my parents for a week. So, one of my students did not have her mom sign-off on being able to watch the video so she had to call and ask for permission. This lead to me asking her if she knew how to say "puberty" in Vietnamese. Lots of awkwardness ensued.

Speaking of awkward, I saw my grandma in her underwear tonight...

The end.

There Should Be AAA for LIFE!

The alarm goes of at 5:33 am. Naturally, I'm already awake. After getting in late from grad class (the fun never ends!), I ended up nodding off probably close to 12:30/1:00 am aka hardly slept. Still, I managed to get a lot of food together (substance what!), my laundry, gym stuff, work stuff, lots of stuff and mosey out the door with plenty of time to spare! I make the trek down three flights of stairs, throw Cheddar's poop in the trash, reach the car.  Keys. For the love of Peter, where are my keys?! After searching all of the bags numerous times reality sets in: work keys, car keys, apartment keys are all on my kitchen table.

I ring the doorbell and my lovely neighbor answers the door. Score! I am into the building. I ask her for my landlord's number (ever since my phone updated, numbers have not been saving correctly). Not being an English speaker, she has no idea what I am asking for. The irony that I am an ESL teacher is not lost on me. I get to my floor and try the door.  Just as I had suspected, it is locked. Cheddar proceeds to cry from inside the apartment for much longer than should be allowed. Does he meow all day when I am at work?? I decide to make some calls. I call my realtor, who, oddly enough, is my deceased great aunt (and she really was great!)'s adopted daughter. She has apartments to show but can get to me around 10:35 aka in 3 and a half hours. She sends me a kazzillion numbers to call in the mean time. I call all the numbers, no response. I go get a coffee. Coffee upsets my stomach but do you think I care? No. I head over to this delightful coffee shop where the peeps working the counter sing in vibrato just like I do! These are my people! I walk in and say that I need something "on the rocks".  Coffee is not really want I want but I understand that more adult options are not available here, especially at 8 am. I go for a butterfinger flavored iced coffee-not too shabby! I get all jittery, peruse the paper, find some good recipes, read my horoscope (crap), and kick it. A man with a an eye patch walks in. Wonderful. Cops come to the door. The counter peeps make siren sounds as they enter. One of the popo's has baby bangs. He's a dude cop with baby bangs. I mean, does it get any better than this?! Of course it does! Mrs. Luciano walks in! Mrs. Luciano is something else. The counter peeps have a whole song about her. It's all too good. I go to the bathroom (twice). The trashcan in the bathroom reads "don't front". What! You best not! I order a BMT: bacon, mustard, tomato and MUCH more! Cheese! Arugula! Hot peppers! So what if I ate a pb and banana sandwich at 6:30 am? What else am I going to do?? My phone rings. The realtor will be at my apartment with the keys in 5 minutes. She doesn't have much time for she has to get two teeth extracted. I pay, thank the peeps, leave them a penguin/cat/shark drawing, take my sandwich, and head off. When I reach my apartment, the outside door is locked. I had left it unlocked, but now it is locked. A sinking feeling sets in---does my realtor have an exterior key or just an interior key?! The realtor arrives. No, she does not have an exterior key, just an interior. We spend the next 6 minutes banging on the doors, ringing the bells, and calling the other tenants. Nothing! The realtor has to go get her teeth extracted. She leaves. I eat my sandwich on my apartment steps. It's truly magnificent. Thank you sandwich. I bite the bullet and call a locksmith, $75, will be there in a half an hour. Meanwhile, the realtor calls back. She went all the way to the dentist, got the Novocaine and then is told that the replacement teeth are not in. Not wanting to show apartments toothless, she jumped out of the dentist's chair and ever so kindly got back to me. She had gotten in touch with the landlord, he is so sorry he missed my call, he has a spare key....45 minutes away. My realtor aka guardian angel, goes to get the key for me. I go to get a drink, because at this point?? Oh, how have I not mentioned that I had to take an emergency personal day at work due to the whole I cannot literally get to work today thing. Ideally, my personal day would have gone to time on a beach or something of that nature, but this is definitely more on par with my life. G.A. (guardian angel) suggests I go to a coffee shop. It's 11:35 am, no more coffee for me, I'm getting a DRINK. I walk into this cute crepe joint, "Is it too early to get a drink?" The bartender guy is like, "Have you met me?" No, I have not met him, but he is not bad. There is another woman at the bar area who is treating herself to anything she wants for the day. Today she wants a hot dog. She ends up getting this huge hot dog crepe with chili on it. Her collar is glittery like a disco ball. She can literally start a dance party wherever she goes. I let her know this. The bartender and I spend the next hour discussing milk, contemplating why it's called a toothbrush and not a teethbrush. and trying to figure out the back/front of the arm--the arm is sort of both front and back at the same time! The convo is good, real good, but my phone rings again. G.A. will be at the apartment in ten minutes with the keys. It's 1:11 pm.

Finding the humor in the situation, I made a status update about it on Facebook. Some people comment that they are sorry about my day. Is it bad that this is one of the BETTER days I have had in a while?? Ha, oh man. My sister wrote that there should be AAA for apartments, to which I responded, "There should be AAA for LIFE!" It's not all about cars and apartments. Guy you're dating has gone missing? There's AAA for that! Cat is attacking your feet? There's AAA for that! The man getting you down? There's AAA for that!

Also, I have not written a blog entry in months. Too busy with work and school and non-fun, but yo, stuff is still ridiculous, and I've got stories to tell!