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. ..