Today, it's a weight loss blog.

I’m gonna write about weight loss for a little bit. If you want to read my regular blog go to www.jenc.tumblr.com. (Link on the right.)

It’s been a long time since I’ve written a post of this nature. In fact, I don’t think I”ve ever done this on this blog at all. When I first became a blogger, it was for the sole purpose of blogging about my weight loss experience. I lost 113.8 pounds and I started the blog well into that journey, after I discovered many other weight loss blogs that I read during that time were key parts of my system of support and ultimate success. I wanted to give back to people in that same way and create an interesting way for myself to be accountable.

I’m telling you right now that if you don’t already know me as a girl who attended weight watchers and wrote in detail about her food intake on the internet, you might want to quit reading right now. It can get very very tedious to read about other peoples food and exercise neuroses and really only those of us who are also going through or have gone through the same neurotic weight loss experience can relate. So if you don’t want to read details about how much I weigh, what I did for exercise yesterday, and how fat or thin I feel, leave now. I mean, I’m really begging you, leave now. Because it’s embarrassing enough for me to write this stuff as it is. But I want to become more accountable for my actions in this department and this is how I did it the last time, so this is an approach I’m going to take again.. Okay, enough disclaiming. I’m not sure how long this will be a weight loss blog, but today it is. Eff you if you don’t like it.

So the lowest weight I ever got to was 150.6, I think. And that was pretty good. I could have stood to lose 5 or 10 more pounds, but doesn’t every one feel that way?

I think I’m hovering around 168 right now. Which is NOT a weight I want to be. Granted, the 150 is a number I only hovered around for a few days, maybe a week, and my body rested more comfortably around 155 during that time (which was October 2005, btw – yikes!). So in the last two years (yikes!!!), I’ve put on about 15 pounds, give or take. That’s not awful, but it’s not great, and it’s not a trend that can continue. Oh HELL no.

What I want to do now is get back down to 150. Where I go from there will be up to God, frankly, because 150 was HARD work. But I know I can get back down there at least. I felt a lot better at that weight. And I will relish it even more the second time around.

I only exercised ONCE this past week. Despite this, I’ve been pretty good and pretty consistent in the last few months with my exercise. It certainly hasn’t been the caliber of exercise I was used to back in the day, but it’s been pretty good. Several days of cardio, two to three of lifting, each week. Not bad. Can always be better, though.

The problem has been the food. Interestingly, I still track points! I’ve done it pretty much every day since I started weight watchers over 5 years ago. That’s just how I stay SOMEWHAT within the realm of reason, even if I’m not actively trying to lose weight. And the trend that I’ve noticed in the last few months is that I eat about 70-75 flex points each week, consistently. So I eat my 23 points a day, and then I eat my 35 extra flex points each week, plus and additional 35 – 40 MORE points! Holy cow. No, that’s not a TON of extra food in the and yes it’s amazing that I still write it all down, but it’s still easily 2000 extra calories a week. Holy shit that’s a lot. That’s like almost two days worth of extra food So there’s some perspective I just achieved.

I’m not sure how best to go about changing this, except to just get down and dirty with it. Make changes, cut corners, eat less, change what sorts of things I eat, go back to basics: look up nutrition info, don’t guess all the time, make healthy choices in terms of what food groups I’m choosing, avoid alcohol, avoid over-snacking. It’s easy stuff, but stuff that I’ve slowly strayed away from here and there. Those calories add up. I’ve enjoyed the last two years of relatively free eating. The best part is that no matter what kind of damage I might want to do, foodwise, in any given night, I’m literally incapable of eating the way I used to. My habits, my normal way of living, has fundamentally changed, which is very cool to learn and relearn all the time. I am constantly making great choices based on the calories or the health benefits, it’s completely kneejerk. There are some things I won’t even eat because I just don’t think it’s worth it, healthwise. So that’s very cool.

I guess the stuff I need to add back in are weighing myself more often (I try to do so once a week, but it’s not consistent) and writing on here to be accountable. Also, setting a goal for myself, and setting smaller exercise and food goals.

Mondays will be my “weigh-in” day, though I don’t think I’m going to be going to meetings anytime soon. We’ll see. Right now, my scale goal is 150. My smaller goals for this week are going to be manageable. 4 times exercise, and no more than 35 flex points. I think that sounds pretty reasonable. Okay, can’t believe I’m posting this on the internet. Oh god. Gotta start somewhere, right?

Now that I've got that new blog, I can use this old blog for anything I want!

I watched the new HST reel today - Chris showed it to a bunch of us this afternoon and it's AWESOME. But the one thing I realized is that I could stand to lose some weight.

If you came to this blog from my old weight loss blog, you will understand where I'm coming from. If you came to this blog as a friend outside the weight loss community, you might roll your eyes at me and think I'm silly to write this shit online.

But I was thinking the other day about how I came to be a big internet person, because when the internet first came out, I was decidedly un-internet-y, only ever online to check my email or MAYBE go to a website. I had a boyfriend at the time who was big into the internet and I could never understand it. I realized that when I joined weight watchers a few years later and started losing weight, I became more active online, reading people's blogs, posting on the WW forum, generally learning more and more about weight loss from the world wide web. So from pretty early on in my weight loss, the internet played a big part of my experience.

So I guess there's no other fitting place to return to when I feel like I need to shed a good 20 pounds. And that's about all it is. 20 pounds. That might sound like a lot to some people, but it's not, trust me. I've lost 115. What's 20. Peh.

But it's hard work, regardless. And I've got to get recommitted to it. I still workout all the time and I'm ALWAYS watching what I eat, but I'm not actively focused on LOSING weight right now. And I need to be. Because I look like the not-thin girl on this HST reel, which is not the "type" I want to be when HST hits it big. I guess I might not have a choice in that matter, since I'm never gonna be a size 2, but I can control how not-thin I am, can't I? :)

More on this soon, I suppose. Starting now, I'll workout and eat well for the next two days and then I'll weigh myself on Monday (I usually check in with the scale on Mondays) to see what we're dealing with. Maybe I'll even go to a weight watchers meeting?!?! Whhhhaaat?!?! :)

I'm blogging somewhere else now.

Same title, same girl, different URL.

I have no idea how long this will last. Probably a while. I'm enjoying the hell out of it.

And my silly boyfriend has decided that HE has a blog now too! Whhhuuut!? Okay, fine. But mine's better.

Anyway, come check it out over there. You can't post comments on that blog, which sorta sucks, but you can email me at twizzlers519@hotmail.com if you have a comment. Perhaps I'll post your comment on the ol' blog. Now you're thrilled, I know.

I'm trying

this out for a minute.

It might rock? We'll see.

odds. ends.

If I ever hang up the phone on someone prematurely, someone who calls my work phone, I feel bizarrely guilty afterwards. That poor guy was just saying "Have a nice day," and I was in a hurry and I cut him off and hung up before I realized what was happening. I hate that I might have made him feel blue or foolish for trying to be pleasant. I love pleasant! We should all be pleasant!

In other news, I almost typed "Tony Romo" into my boss' message log.

No idea.

Crack.

Someone just put a bowl of M&M's out on the snacks cubicle corner in the office, you know the one where the snacks always sit, if there are snacks that day?

And the entire bowl was eaten in probably four minutes or less. And this is not a big office.

People are still high on the thanksgiving crap food crack. And I'm one of them. CHOCOLATESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS.

Chocolate?

So I'm back. From home. I went home. To Chicago. A suburb of Chicago, actually. If we're getting technical. Crystal Lake. Crystal Lake, Illinois. My little cousin, Trisha, is getting married at the end of December. So she thoughtfully arranged it so that most of the pre-wedding festivities would take place the weekend of Thanksgiving so that everyone would be available and home and wouldn't have to make extra trips. Very cool.

My thanksgiving day was lovely, the following day was lovely, as was it later that evening when we had a bachelorette thang for Trish. Just the women in the family got together at my mom's house early on and we did something really awesome: we made a plaster cast of Trisha's breasts! What?! you may ask? But that's what we did. :) It's a long story, but basically my mom knows how to make plaster casts of things - she learned in a class or somethin - and Trisha's always wanted to do it to her bust so we did it as the start of a tradition and a bonding thing for her. She's the first of this generation of our family to get married and we're all very eager to make it super special for her. So we cast the bust and painted the bust and did some tequila shots to make it all a little easier (cuz naked boobs are still naked boobs which can sometimes make people uncomfortable). Then a couple of Trisha's friends joined us at the house for more drinking (the breast part was totally over by this point) and we eventually left to go out for a night on the town.

I don't think I've ever gone out to the bars in my home town when returning home for a holiday. So it was basically hilarious. I'm a little too old to have seen many of my high school friends out, most of the people were several years younger than I am, but my cousins (Trisha is one of four girls) saw lots of people they knew. It was pretty insane. People bought us shots, we ran into my uncle (Trisha's dad) who gave us more cash for drinks and sent us on our way, and we rocked it out until the wee hour of 1am. Ha.

I guess last call in Crystal Lake is like 1:30 or something? I dunno. But I'm past my intense partying phase of life so when I heard that we were being picked up at !am I was thrilled. Granted we'd been drinking since 5pm, but still...

I was so. stupid. drunk. when I got home. I made Kevin, who was at home in Brooklyn editing sketch shorts, come online and gchat with me and I KNOW I said some ridiculous shit. I'm lucky he's a forgiving gentleman (who's seen his fair share of nights plenty drunker than I could ever imagine being). So yah. Drunk. But when, if not then, am I going to go all out and have a blast in her honor. (I went home after 3 drinks the night of my own birthday party.) Trisha's three sisters and I are the only women in the wedding party, so it felt like the right move. We had a blast. And it was pretty hilarious being that sloshed in my childhood home late at night, stumbling around in the dark, trying not to wake my grandma...all because my baby cousin, who's a grown woman now, is getting married and we had to celebrate. It was one of those This is That Moment moments.

The next morning was her shower, a couples shower, which I so prefer because a buncha ladies sitting around playing shower games is just gross to me. My high school theater director was there (he's friends with my family) - this man informed a GREAT deal of my life as a performer - and I haven't seen him in almost ten years. So we caught up for a while which was awesome because I have a lot of great theater stuff to brag about.

I flew home to New York that afternoon, went to the HST show straight from the airport, we played to a sold out house (where are all these people coming from?), and then I made Kev take me home. I was exhausted. And it was really good to see his goofy face again. ;)

The rest of the weekend flew by with, somehow, more eating? and drinking? and laying around? And here we are. Her wedding is in like four weeks and I'm excited.

In the meantime, I'll be jogging.

twenty-seven and thankful and it's a long entry because i've been meaning to write this for a while now

The first three weeks of my life as a 27 year old have been pretty stellar to say the least. I think the thing this birthday signified the most for me was Becoming an Actual Adult.

...whatever the fuck that means, right?

But seriously, my twenties have been mostly a crap shoot until now. I've certainly had some really great years so far, where I made lots of progress and created lots of positive things for myself (losing 100 pounds would probably fall into that category, as would returning to college to finish my degree, and rediscovering My Life Among the Living after that pesky homeless/jobless/hopeless spell I saw around 21), but I have definitely had an equal if not greater amount of very difficult times, over all, during these 7 years of twentydom. Getting fired this past year was in fact a mere blip on the radar compared to some of the other struggles. And oh what struggles there were. Losing jobs, avoiding jobs, screwing up at jobs, having major surgery - twice, breaking bones, crashing cars, fucking with my credit, fucking with my credit debt, let's fuck some more with my credit, alienating friends, alienating my mother, doing plenty of drugs, being generally irresponsible, failing classes, lying, stealing, generally sucking, being homeless, punching a boyfriend in the face, doing more drugs - the list goes on - you get the point. And oddly, a lot of it happened in a one and a half year span, but some of it dragged on a lot longer.

In fact, I'm about to pay off a cell phone bill that has been in collections since 1999. I was 19 then. So these issues evidently bleed back into the late teens as well.

The point is, it's been a tough road. Or as my therapist once said, "You've always had a difficult time." Yes. Well. I certainly have, haven't I.

And of course I'm of the school that says I created those difficult times for myself. Thank god I at least had that insight during all of it. Nothing is more ugly to me than the screw-up who thinks the world is screwing her. I always knew it was my own choice to be making the mess and my own choice to climb out of it. It was just the climbing out part that I seemed to find next to impossible. And who wouldn't.

My close friends know the whole "story". (As those years have gotten further away, the story has become less definitive of who I am and more of a series of anecdotes, but it all felt anything but anecdotal as it was happening.) I was all about making a big ol' mess. And I finally had the messiest mess of shit happen the summer before I turned 22 that knocked me, hard, into fixing things. But it takes a lot longer to fix shit than it takes to break it. And I'm still fixing. I fixed a LOT in those first few years, making major strides all the time. But I have never fully felt that I got to zero and kept moving upward, if that makes sense. I never fully felt that I completely repaid my debts - financial, spiritual, emotional, and otherwise - AND was able to actually move beyond them into something totally new and unrelated to being Someone With A Story. Until now. I'm mended. And I've moved on. It's really a miracle. It's taken a long time.

Twenty-six was a bittersweet year. I had a lot of great stuff going for me when I turned 26, and I'd already put so much of my Mess behind me, but there were still some habits and weaknesses and misguided values that were sneaking in and making it hard for me to live fully. I know now that stuff will always be there to challenge me and I have to make better choices for myself every day, but I had myself tricked for a while into thinking that those challenges weren't there at all. Then I got fired from my cushy job and endured a momentary tail spin that felt a little too close to the horrible feelings of Homeless '02. That's just what our bodies do with tough times, associate them to other tough times, even if they aren't terribly similar. So it felt scary to have that instability again. And it shook me. So that was a hard part of twenty-six.

I saw lots of good parts of twenty-six too though. HST, improv, friends, health, etc. And I fell in luv. Eeeew! Gross! Aaack! Barf! And that shook me too, except in a good way and with my pants off. ZING!

I started to piece things together for myself (again) after getting fired and found some places that had been needing some more attention than I'd been willing to give to them. My horoscope recently said something like "You've gotten so used to dithering around that you don't even know you're doing it." Yup.

And I'm just at this point now - this point where I'm not gonna except anything less from myself than what I know I'm capable of giving to myself. I want to be healthy in body and mind. I want to use eye cream on my eyes because I'm not gonna be young forever. (Shut up, Kevin.) I want to smoke less pot (And oh my god I actually am for the first time in 7 entire years I cannot believe it yes yes yes yes yes!!!!) because who the fuck needs the extra hurdle, life is hard enough without putting roadblocks in your own way. I want to exercise as often as possible because it will make me healthy when I'm 80, not because it will make me skinny. I want to meditate and have a healthy awareness of my spirtual state because it's important to me to get the most of out of this Consciousness thang we humans got goin' on. I want to enjoy my friends and laugh with them and dust my bedroom more often and buy myself new sweaters because it makes me feel happy to have clothes I like. I want to write thank you notes to people and let the irritating shit roll off my back and wear jewelry because I like how it feels and hang out with my cat and love my boyfriend and practice patience with him and support him in everything he does because he deserves to be supported. I want to take vitamins and balance my check book and have good credit (who AM I?!) and accrue frequent flyer miles because that sounds like fun. I want to stop tempting fate into trying to convince me over and over again how precious my life is in the form of crashing my car, breaking my foot, losing my salary, or owing somebody a shit ton of money. I want to honor my life as a way of thanking the Universe for all the cool things I've been able to do so far, all the awesome stuff I've gotten to see, all the amazing opportunities and second chances and first tries I've been given, all the seriously fantastic people I know, the wonderful family I have, and the general wellness I've been given.

I'm so grateful for that stuff. I'm so so eternally grateful for it. But most of all I'm grateful that I've taken so many stupid chances (and, granted, memorable risks) with that stuff and have still ended up here, 27, truly appreciating the whole game.

Plus I have new cat pants.

Toronto Recap

We performed at Second City. The stage was sick. As in, cool.


Sara and Clayton waiting in the chilly northern weather for the bathroom. I'm surprised Clayton's not flicking off the camera here. I usually have a hard time finding photos where he's not.


We went to the CN Tower, a very tall building. Their security sensors blast you with all these shots of air! It kind of hurts!


At the top of this tall building they have a glass floor. I was scared/excited. But mostly very very scared. It's funny how your body almost won't let you stand on a glass floor that's thousands of feet up in the air. The body likes the safety.


Me, Sara, Billy, Kevin with a piglet puppet on his hand, and some weird Bear we met along the way. (Just kidding, it's really Fanny. But what an hilarious bear head!)


This was the photo they snapped of us at the CN Tower in front of a green screen and tried to make us buy. Billy took a picture of the monitor where they showed it to us and he got in big trouble. About the photo Billy said, "It looks like you guys love each other! And I'm there!" I find that unmistakably hilarious. Billy and I have been laughing about it ever since. You have to hear him say it. He's a real geek.


Top of the CN Tower. Windy and tall.


Billy made a friend. It's his forte.

All in all, a good trip. Tiring and too quick and LOTS of driving but Kevin is the MAN behind the wheel of that 15 passenger van so all was well. The show was a great success, as usual (if I may be so immodest), and we ate stuff and paid for things with Canadian money. Oh my god and Mike's hot dog stand? YES. Thank you, Toronto. You make a killer hot dog.

Roommates.

I am currently drafting an entry about how proud I am of some of the wonderful strides I've made recently. One of those is my new relationship to my money and how I'm finally clearing out (although they are small) debts from almost ten years ago! So in keeping with this, I just called a law firm, that seems to double as a collections agency, to pay off (in full, mind you) an old cell phone account that has been with them since I was 19 years old. What can I say, I racked up a $600 bill and couldn't pay it and then forgot about it and then looked at my credit report eight years later and...you get the idea.

Anyway, I have been making consistent monthly payments on this account for the last 6 months, but I'm now able to afford to pay the entire balance. So I called up and tried to do it. And the psychotic psycho beast on the other end of the line who seems to have decorated herself with some sort of odd status (?) because she works at a collection's agency (?) was extremely rude and oddly defensive to me (?!) while I was being perfectly nice and reasonable and telling her I wanted to pay the damn BALANCE IN FULL. Keep in mind, of course, that I have been in "good standing" with this stupid place for 6 months! So I was being nice, because you don't get anywhere in these situations by being unpleasant and I just want to pay the damn bill and be done with it. Yet she proceeded to be a psycho rude face to me, literally responding to me as though we were carrying on two different conversations and THEN she actually said, "You don't have to get rude with me!" when I was being perfectly normal and lovely, I assure you, because hello I can get ruuuude, trust me, and this was not even fucking CLOSE; I wasn't even in the same hemisphere as rude. So I took a breath and calmly, although in retrospect, unwisely said, "I'm sorry, but I have to tell you, woman to woman, that you have been rude to me since this call began." And she actually yelled, "OH NO. BUH BYE, BUH BYE, BUH BYE." and HUNG UP ON ME before I could pay anything.

WHAT?! Did I just fall off the normal truck into Insane Town Of My Worst Nightmares? And I still owe these fuckers money?!!!

Maybe she was offended because I said woman to woman? Maybe it was an insecure dude with a gentle voice?

I wanted to cut something.

So I told Daniel about the incident. Daniel's got a real problem with these sorts of little injustices the same way I do. (He's been drafting and redrafting a letter-in-his-mind to the MTA for almost ten years.) And I also told him about a day dream I had about finding out who she is and planning an elaborate homocide. And how in the day dream, I decided that someone I know would find me in the ally with the knife waiting to pounce on this bitch and they would selflessly shake me by the shoulders and yell "HOW DID IT GET THIS FAR?"

And Daniel wrote back: Well, I wouldn’t be that person. I’d be the person who kills that person and then turns to you, with my own knife, and says, “Let’s do it.”

I love Daniel.

Oh, Canada!

Okay, I'm leaving in two and a half hours...things have been hectic at work this morning. I'm assisting several associates and partners today because lots of people are out. And I'm leaving early myself. It's been non-stop.

Sometimes I wish I could talk about some of the stuff that goes on at my job on this blog. Alas, I cannot. In fact, I signed a confidentiality agreement years ago when I first started the job. Sigh. It's too bad, though, because I enjoy being a blabbermouth.

I'm looking forward to this trip. It's gonna be such a quick one, there and back with only one day in between. I wish we had another few days, but we've got to get back to town to do our Saturday show. Woe is me. ;) The drives in the van are always fun, though, and Kev is coming, so that's fun too.

I'm in a really financially stable place right now. Probably the most financially stable I've been..oh...EVER? In my life? Yah, I'm not sure how that happened, but getting fired last year really freaked me out. I've spent the year since then working my ass off to pay down some annoying little debts. I recently paid off my (albeit very very small) credit card debt, I'm down to the last two payments on another debt, and last night I paid Daniel the final payment for the WHOLE LOT of money I've owed him for a while now! That felt awesome. And I'm actually in the black...is that what they call it? Seems it should be green, no? Anyway, things are good on that front and I'm really happy to be entering into this holiday season (which is going to be filled with a shitload of travel and events, etc.) with some security. It's a huge deal for me.

These aren't the Halloween pictures I've wanted to post but they're too hilarious to pass up:

Kev as a hunter, me as the rabbit:



Me in the hunter's mask. It's amazing how different this thing looks on everyone who puts it on (Ha, you can see my rabbit ears hanging down my back. That makes me laugh):



And this was the day before Halloween; he shaved his beard of 7 years! He said I could put this up here. Somehow, though, I bet he'll regret it just the same:



Let's cool it on the Kevin photos, huh? Sheesh, you'd think I was dating him...

(Oh, AND, I put some pictures from here from that day.)

quick

Going to Toronto tomorrow! Hope to have time to post before then, but we'll see. Busy at work, busy busy, roar. Still have plenty to say about turning 27. And plenty more photos to find appropriate places to post.

In the meantime, I'll leave you with this: These are the men in my life. They have a very complicated relationship. Needless to say, this photo brings me much happiness. What dorks.

I had a party.

I wrote details in an earlier post. Here's photographic evidence:


These are some people who were there. They are my friends. :) I'm in the lower right hand corner making a weirdo face, mid-conversation, looking suspiciously like my mother.


This is when Billy was telling Keith about Simi Wine and the psychic. I love this story. Daniel (far right) does too. He always makes that I'm Not Interested face. Don't let it throw you. He was having a blast.


I love this photo. For a host of reasons. First of all, it's like a pyramid of friends and everyone naturally zig-zags, which is v. cool. Plus, these are some of my all-time favorite Pitzens all in one corner. Jake, Phil, Chris, all looking cool like cucumbers...Keith looking like a real cheeseball buttface...Sarah mid-drink order? Perhaps. And Soroka. Ohh, Soroka. You psychopath.

It was a fun time.

reminiscence

(Finally got some photos uploaded...)

I LOVED these!! Isn't he nice to me? He is. Most of the time.

I went with the sandwich option, or a variation thereof: Toasted sourdough. Turkey. Cheddar. Mustard. Lite mayo. Tomato. Onion. Satisfying.

I will always eat the smaller of two halves of a sandwich first. Who wouldn't.

It's only 12:30pm

and I've spent the last hour thinking about what I want for lunch. And I don't start work until 10, so I, like, JUST had breakfast.

Here are the various flashes of potential lunches that have zipped through my mind:

extra large meat lovers pizza (hubba hubba. drool city.)
nachos
extra large meat lovers pizza
cookies
cookie pie
a warm chicken sandwich on rye toast with pesto spread, cheddar cheese, and carmelized onions
extra large pesto pizza with garlic.

>dies<

Kevin, I haven't forgotten about posting your Halloween photos on this blog. Nice try, though. Just wait, you guys.

Just wait. :D

birth death and stuff in between

This might be a long one, suckers. Snuggle in.

First off, I have so many photos I want to slap up here, it ain’t even funny no mo. Hopefully I’ll be able to spend some time on that tomorrow.

Which brings me to my next point. I’m really looking forward to tomorrow. Tomorrow is Nothing. (Except an HST meeting and show in the evening, but I should have a good 6 hours to myself before that.) This brings me a great deal of joy. Don’t get me wrong, the birthday festivities have been wonderful – in fact every single day since LAST Saturday has included some form of birthday celebration or gift receiving or well wishing. But I’m glad it will be over soon because holy fuck I’m so tired.

It was an awesome week, though, and last night was the final hurrah with a delightful little birthday party at Iguana in midtown. An odd area of town for a late Thursday night birthday party, if you don’t work at ING at least, but it really worked out quite well. My improv group was coming from practice only several blocks away, my sketch group was coming from the PIT where they’d just seen Clayton’s level 3 show, so they weren’t far away either. We carved out a little spot for ourselves in the corner of the bar, which turned out to be the perfect little spot, and it was so nice to see everyone there all at once. I really only invited my close friends – I hate when people feel obligated to come to a party for someone they don’t know, and I hate being obligated to go to a party for a person I don’t know, so I thought I’d keep it in the family. There might be nothing I love more (besides cats) than all my bests in a tight little space, negotiating around each other for more drinks and chips.

I had several margaritas, chatted it up with people who I don’t get to chat with often enough and then, as some people started to peace out, I got settled on a chair and chatted with the some of the dudes, reconnected with Kev, who was taking photos and generally enjoying himself. :)

The night began to wind down when an extremely drunk 50-something came over to our area to pilfer through everyone’s coats and bags because he couldn’t find his own coat. Dude looked through those piles probably eleven times, slurring something to Kevin over and over. What a weirdo.

So I did a shot with Daniel, smoked a ¼ of a cigarette (! It’s been ages since I did that. It was gross.) with Dan, Steve, and Bill, finished my margarita, and called it a night. Kevin and Dan and I cabbed back to queens and I was in bed by 1:30am, which, for me, is the best possible way for a birthday party night to end. Maybe I didn’t feel that way when I was 23, but I feel that way now, big time. You know that phrase, “You can sleep when you’re dead.” Whoever said that can suck it, because I will be sleeping Right. Now. Yesssssssss. Please turn off the lights.

I got a really sweet card from Sarah and Matt and a bag of adorable cat stuff from my friend Sara and two pink roses from my friend Chris and I was so happy to have everyone there. Warm and fuzzy. It was a great night, couldn’t have worked out better. It’s too bad I didn’t get to chit chat with everyone who showed up, but I’m sure they understand.

Plus my boyfriend rocks. He sent me roses at work yesterday. A big thing of ‘em. Very happy making.

My mom’s present to me is still at the post office, so I’ll try to go pick that up tomorrow. I’m kinda excited that I haven’t opened it yet though. One last gift.

I’m lucky and blessed and spoiled and happy. And now I need a goddammed nap. When all is said and done, I will have had a show every day this week except for Thursday and Sunday. (And Thursday was my party and Sunday we’re going to Kevin’s parents house.) I’m just exhausted. I love performing, for sure, and hangin out is good too. But I need sleep, badly. I need to cocoon up in my bedroom, turn the tv on quietly, shut the lights, get the cat into naptime position at the foot of the bed, and sleep for 8 days. That’s not gonna happen, so I’ll take sleeping in tomorrow, and a relaxing day of laundry and other errands before my 6:30 HST marketing meeting. It’s not enough, but it will have to do.

Things are gonna continue to ramp up, though, as the next few weeks are equally insane. So I’d better start getting some more regular sleep and make sure I eat my fruits and veggies and make time for exercise (going to the gym tonight after work, in fact) because I’m going to need it.

A week from today, I will be in Toronto for the Toronto Sketch Fest. We’re leaving Wednesday day night, returning Friday night. Very cool. We’re one of only a few groups performing at the Second City stage, which is an honor.

The following weekend is Thanksgiving, if you can believe it. My little cousin is getting married at the end of December so we’re doing lots of pre-wedding stuff when I’m in Chicago for Thanksgiving.

Alright. That seems to do it. I have more to say on the subject of aging and my new plans to do so gracefully and with vigor, but I don’t have the energy at the moment. So I guess I’m off to a terrible start in that department. Zzzzzzzzzz. Turn out the lights please.

I’ll leave you with something my friend at work said today, which cracked me up for some reason:

“Stabbed to death is the worst.”

Agreed.

Still Got It

Today is my twenty-seventh birthday. :)

I like this day. I've historically liked this day. And despite my worry that I was getting too old to feel all sparkly birthday good, this year turns out to be no exception. :) :) :)

I woke up to voicemails from my mom, dad, and grandma. Check, check, and check. And I'm looking forward to the whole day. Nobody at work knows it's my birthday - shhhh -and there's something I like about that.

Kevin and I are gonna have lunch when he's done with some voiceover stuff he's doing this morning, so that will be lovely also. Then I have rehearsal and a show and then tomorrow is my PARTY!

:) :) :) So far 27 feels pretty good.

Update: this is the cake that they gave me at the PIT and the whole audience sang! Very cool. I recommend it. The cake says Happy Birth. Ha! Thanks, Kev:

Spoiled.

On a lighter note, I'm pretty crazy about my boyfriend. Some of his friends read this so I apologize in advance for any cutesy-ness you'll have to witness, but I taking back my own damn blog this time. He's pretty great and I'm pretty glad about it. He does plenty of things, daily, that make me feel this way, and had he NOT taken me on a special surprise birthday celebration day on Saturday, I would still feel this way, but he did take me on a special surprise birthday celebration day on Saturday. But he DID. :D

First we woke up (how much of this am I supposed to tell, Kevin? i won't talk about the sex, how bout that? that seems fair, right? hello? kevin?) and I sat up in bed and closed my eyes so he could give me my first (and favorite) present, a Calvin & Hobbes book called Homocidal Psycho Jungle Cat, which I do not own and have not read and cannot be happier to now possess. THEN, we left the apartment to go to a surprise location. The surprise location turned out to be a fancy pants spa where I would be treated to AND HOUR AND A HALF OF MASSAGE AND REFLEXOLOGY. If you don't know me, you don't know that I am newly in love with reflexology. Luckily, Kevin knows me. And it. was. bliss. Omg. It was incredible. He had our good friend Clayton ask his boyfriend Joe, who is a massage therapist, to recommend someone and he recommended his favorite woman in the city. And jesus christ. Yup. She was to die for. It was a life altering experience, that massage, where things happened like breathing passages that I didn't know existed opening up in ways I didn't know I could feel. It was pretty transcendent.

And Kevin went to Starbucks and read the paper while I was in there. So sweet.

Then we went to another surprise location (because I like surprises. so what.) for brunch. A place called Five Points.



OHhhh delicious. I really enjoyed it a lot. The atmosphere was awesome, the food was awesome. We sat in this one small portion of the restaurant that is bathed in natural light in the one table right in the middle. And I had two mimosas. Slurp.



If you look closely you can see the first item on the menu is Churros with Mexican Hot Chocolate. We got those too. OMG. (In this picture they sort of look funny, but they were funny DELICIOUS.)



My meal was so fucking yummy:



Then there was a period of time that shall remain unaccounted for on this blog. Hubba hubba. (Annoyed yet, honey?)

And then we went to the Apple Store and I got another present. :o)

So, it was a pretty perfect day. And I told him that he could have spent a tiny percentage of the money he spent and I still would have been happy. It's true. I'm not a things-person. But I felt spoiled. And being spoiled for one day won't rot yer teeth.

Day before the Day

Tomorrow is my 27th birthday.

I'm not in the mood to write the ol' Birthday Post. You know the one. Where I'm all reflective and thankful and make some goals for the year ahead or some bullshit. I'll do it soon enough, I suppose.

I'm sick with a cold that's hanging on like they do and it's making my head hurt today. I've decided to avoid any more advil cold and sinus today since it stands to reason that the bod could use a break from the constant medicating that's been happening lately. Zicam, Theraflu, Advil. zzzzzz.

I'm feeling a little odd about this birthday. It's the first time I feel old. I know I'm not old, I know, I know, all you 30 somethings get off my back about it. But I'm sure you remember 27 and I'm sure you remember that 27 felt particularly adult. Plus my grandpa wrote in my birthday card that my being 27 makes him feel old. Oh, Grandpa, I hear ya.

I'm worried about aging rapidly all of a sudden. I'm worried my face will turn into something less youthful and my bones will start to creak and ache. I'm worried about missing my youth. It makes me want to cry. I know they're all silly worries and they'll go away as quickly as they've come, but it's the first time I'm feeling some of this stuff, so let me live it. I suppose watching an Oprah on anti-aging last night didn't help. We live in a culture of television-that-produces-fear-which-inevitably-makes-some-white-dude-some-more-money.

Regardless, I think with my birthday might come a renewed desire to focus on health. Taking vitamins, eating leafy greens, avoiding toxic chemicals. Somehow the idea of ever bearing offspring seems instantly overwhelming.

Hm. How bout a nice solemn post to usher in the birthday. :)

I'm definitely going shopping on my lunch break today. I practice retail therapy MAYBE once a year, if that, and this might just be the day.

'weeeeen!

He won't let me post the REAL ones yet (and if you know him you should probably give him a hard time about it...) but here's a photo from Halloween with me as a rabbit and Kevin in his first costume of the night, a rabbit hunter, also known as horrifying old masked man. Try kissing someone who's wearing that thing. You don't want to, trust me. The long phallic nose alone is enough to make you want to shower immediately.

I hope to put up more photos soon, but this is what you're getting for now.

(And c'mon, it's really a terrible photo of me! But look how I selflessly slap it up on the ol' web because, despite any embarrassment I may feel, who cares! Some boyfriends should considering adopting the same devil-may-care approach to photo posting. Ahem.)

<3

I posted something a while back about my professional life since college graduation, but I realized it was an entirely too-long-and-detailed post to subject innocent people to its vastness, so I took it down. Better left as a private note to myself, right?

I just want you to know that I love my job. I'm very happy about working here again. And I hope that if I ever get frustrated as hell about this place or sick and tired of it, the way one can get about any job after a period of time, that I will reread these words and remember that I'm lucky to be back here.

I can wear what I want. Understand? This matters to me BIG. FUCKING. TIME. Why? Who knows. It's just who I am. I hate restrictions. My friend Ryan always used to tell me I'm a "don't box me in" kinda girl. I never really understood that. I do now. Don't box me the fuck in.

I don't have to be here until 10. Understand? This matters to me BIG. FUCKING. TIME. It means I can stay up late and do stuff.

I enjoy the content of the work because it's interesting as hell (music law) and I enjoy the people because they're super nice and down to earth. I'm treated with respect and I get free lunch sometimes. Like today. Amazing pasta with sun-dried tomatoes.

....and I've just spent the last four hours writing these few paragraphs because this day is so crazy busy.

Sigh. I still love it, though.

All Hallows Eve

I had such a great time last night.

I suppose my posting has been relatively minimal lately. In fact, I don't even remember what I've updated about and what I haven't. But things are good. Work is great, comedy is great, boyfriend is excellent, cat is still nuts, roommate relations are good, exercise is reasonable. I feel pretty happy. Though, I haven't had much time at all for leisurely things like posting on this blog (or doing my laundry or fighting off this cold I seem to have collected somewhere along the way).

But there's been plenty to blog about, certainly, and I come into work each morning hoping to have time to write, but it never pans out. Work is hectic too. However, the main complication is that my computer at work is inSANEly slow. It's got a mere 256 MB of memory which is apparently pathetically little. And it's next to impossible to get stuff done efficiently during the day, let alone, navigate between websites. I'm getting a memory upgrade soon, thank god. I seriously need it. When I try to toggle between windows it sometimes takes a full 90 seconds JUST to open the new screen. Do you have any idea how long 90 seconds is when you're staring at a frozen computer screen? While someone really 'important' is on hold waiting for the information you're supposed to be looking up? At a law firm? Where shit moves fast? It's maddening and feels like I'm working on a tin can from 1987.

And it also reminds me that we as a culture have become very impatient. Or perhaps just I, as a culture, have become impatient.

Anyway, I had a great time last night.

First of all, it was my good friend Fanny's birthday. Her name is Faryn. We call her Fanny. And she loves cookies and sweets. So we all went to this chocolate restaurant for dinner. Delish. Everyone was dressed up for Halloween and it was adorable. I was dressed as a rabbit (and Kevin was dressed as a rabbit hunter.) Then we had to rush out to go do a show at the PIT. I was still dressed as a rabbit, but Kevin had to change into something else for the show. I truly and sincerely hope he'll green light me putting some photos of the event up on here because oh my good god, you want to see them.

Anyway, the shows were a blast - very festive and spooky-feeling. Everyone had such fantastic costumes and their performances were equally wacky. Nothing like a good holiday to spice up your improv. Afterwards, there was a keg and other party favors to go around so I hung out with friends and chatted and laughed the night away. It wasn't until 12am when Kev and I were cuttin a rug on the dance floor like we were the only two souls in the room that we realized that it was a lot later than we thought it was and we were supposed to meet back up with the Fanny Party. But it was too late and we missed out. I was bummed.

So we went home to eat pizza and stay up even later instead. :) Fun fun so much fun.

I had a few beers at the party but I have been drinking so infrequently lately that that was all I needed. I was pretty tipsy and I definitely made the most of it.

This week and next week feel so super-charged to me. There's so much exciting, rewarding stuff going on. Costumes yesterday, a fun dinner out tomorrow night, and Saturday (!) is a very exciting day (!) because Kevin is surprising me with some birthday activities that he won't reveal. All I know is that I wasn't allowed to make plans on Saturday. So THAT sounds like the right idea.

Then next week is even more intense. I'm doing FIVE shows next week - three improv, two sketch. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday. And Thursday is my birthday party. Oof! I'm really looking forward to it though. I love the way it all fell into place like this. It makes me feel fantastic to know I'll get to perform so much next week because it's the perfect way to celebrate turning 27.

I can't wait to put up pictures of Halloween. Don't die when you see them.

Again!

Another Harvard Sailing Team video up on Dot Comedy! Now we have two videos up on their home page, which is pretty great.

(Btw, there are more videos on our myspace page, if you like videos.)

Nice.

NBC Universal has a comedy website called Dot Comedy. After several face to face meetings and what I'm sure were many phone calls and emails, they wanted to purchase some of Harvard Sailing Team's videos. This was awesome news because we love making videos and we love when that equals fame and fortune. The first video they bought is up on their site now. And I'm in it. That's me, above, doing some serious acting with my main bitch Clayton. Pretty neato. :)

But!

I didn't want sugar in the iced coffee mister! I said no sugar, not yes sugar. And I certainly can't go back down there to ask you for new coffee! Who will answer the phones? Ohhhh...I really can't drink it with the sugar in it. I really want to, trust me, but I really can't. Every sip feels like it's >sip< rotting >sip< my >sip< insides. Dramatic? Perhaps. But if you don't like sugar drinks you just don't. Who wants this iced coffee? I'm sure it's delicious.

Health Watch

Am I srsly eating (and enjoying) a hummus sandwich from Pret? I srsly am. It's pretty good. I did go pick some cheese from some sandwiches we had at work on Friday out of fridge and stick it on my plate, but cheese, veggies, hummus, and grainy bread for lunch sounds like I'm a healthy rabbit.

I could really use it after this weekend's Eat 2007 Festiganza.

That's not a real festival. That's just a made up festival that I celebrated this weekend without telling anyone else that there was a festival going on.

On Friday night, before we saw our friends in Too Much Light Makes The Baby Go Blind (which was good and interesting) we went to FriendHouse, which we love. We ate a fuckin boatload. And to think, he almost ordered an additional entree to compliment the 7 other plates of food we'd requested, but thought better of it at the last minute. Phew.

Then, Saturday, I surprised him by navigating us to this amazing Italian place I mentioned yesterday. And we ates and we dranks and then we saw a movie during which we also ates and dranks.

Yesterday I decided I was never eating again, after which I had tapas and sangria with Daniel in Astoria. And snacks later. And some of Friday's leftovers after that. And then an ice cream novelty. I'm not pregnant, I just play one on tv.

Ridiculous.

But delicious.

So today I must be nutritious. And drink diet colas. And tomorrow I must exercise.

True Crime Sunday

My birthday is one month from today. Yessssss.

My mom's birthday was yesterday. She turned 46. She turned 19 on October 6, 1980, and had a baby a month and a day later. Can you imagine? She's awesome. I sent her flowers. Her hubby took her to see The Producers. I love my mom.

Kevin's dad's birthday was also yesterday. Kevin is visiting his parents today. Birthdays are for celebrating.

My cat has some sort of psychological problem, I think. He has an obsession with a blue bouncy ball. And he cries and moans if you won't play with the ball with him. (He fetches it. Obsessively.) And he cries and moans and bites people in the middle of the night. He's been keeping Kevin awake for hours. I woke up in the middle of the night last night and Kevin was sitting up on the side of the bed, looking really defeated. I got the sense I'd woken up in the middle of a desperate moment in his life. The whole thing is pretty stressful, but thinking about it right now makes me laugh. Anyway, I have to take the damn cat to the vet.

I'm doing nothing today. I'm getting a mani/pedi, I'll go workout later even though I rillyrilly don't wanna. And I'll hang out with Daniel later tonight.

I slept IN today. Sleep tonight is a long way away.

My friend Steve and I are doing a two person improv show this Friday evening. Maybe I'm nervous, maybe I'm not. Who knows.

I saw Michael Clayton last night. I really liked that movie. I really liked it a lot. We also had dinner at a place called Celeste on 84th and Amsterdam. It was small, loud, and we had to wait 25 minutes to get a table, but the food was so so delicious and it was so cheap! It was a recommendation of Chris and Rebecca's. And while we were there, Rebe's roommate and best friend Sonya showed up with her parents who're visiting from Miami! We barely got to say hello, the place is so bustling. While we were waiting outside for our table, I overheard a bunch of people who walked by with their friends say something like, "This place is amazing," or "This is Celeste, it's supposed to be incredible." It was. I had a lot of fun. And wine.

I also lost my wallet last night. This happens once every two months. It's just how it is.

a little late and irate

(Hey! My blog was a year old last month and I didn't even realize it! Okay. At 12noon today I'm throwing myself a Blog Birthday Party. I'll celebrate by surfing the internet.)

Isn't it cliche to bitch about the transit problem in New York? Tough. This might be the most cliche thing you've read all week. Leave this website now if you can't handle the obviousness of it all.

FUCK YOU, MTA. Seriously. FUCK youuuuu. I actually hate you. I'm talking actual hate. And I'm not the only one, ya hear? At one point this morning, during my hairy, ugly commute (a commute who's only consistency all week long, whether I'm coming from Brooklyn or Queens, has been its close resemblance to every horror film I've ever seen) I glanced around me at the sweaty New Yorkers becoming more miserably acquainted by the second with platform they'd been damned to wait on all morning long, at the train passengers sitting on the stalled-and-definitely-not-leaving-the-station-any-time-soon train for what would probably end up being another ten (FUCK YOU, MTA!) minutes, at the people people everywhere who just want to get to work you awful transit system - we just want to get to OUR JOBS - and I noticed that at least a quarter of the people were visibly shaking their heads in silent, defeated disgust. It's a common sight to see a disgruntled straphanger shaking their head in silent, defeated disgust. And that, my dear transit authority, means YOUR SYSTEM ISN'T WORKING SO WELL.

When I can generously estimate that 25% of the people who use your system are unhappy with it, you need to rethink your business model. If you were a real business, an actual business that ran and functioned the way capitalism dictates that most american businesses function, you'd have been run into the ground by now. But we don't have a choice, we citizens of this fair city. Do we. And you take advantage of that like we're a school girl in ripped prom dress who's had too many wine coolers. You suck. You suuuuck. YOU SUCK. I actually fantasize about physically harming your employees. That's no good. That doesn't a peaceful city make. You create a rage and an anger in all of us that just doesn't need to exist. Because we're pissed off enough having to pay upwards of $12 for a sandwich and bottle of water.

In 2006, the US Census estimated that there are approximately 8 million people in New York City. That's a lot. So I'm gonna do some layman's math right now, just for shits. Let's say 1 million of those people use the subway per day. I'm sure it's more like 3 million, but I want to be really generous with my estimation. So if 1 million of them ride the subway ONCE a day (it's probably more like twice, but again, I'm trying to you paint you in the best possible light, MTA) that's $2 million PER DAY in your pocket. That's $10 MILLON PER WEEK IF WE DON'T COUNT SATURDAY AND SUNDAY. THAT'S $40 MILLION PER MONTH. ARE YOU TELLING ME YOU CAN'T PUT, OH, TWO MORE TRAINS ON THE TRACKS DURING MY MORNING COMMUTE FOR $40 MILLION A MONTH? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? ARE YOU USING ACTUAL PAPER DOLLAR BILLS TO FILTER THE COFFEE IN YOUR OFFICE KITCHEN OR POT THE PLANT AT THE RECEPTION DESK OR PAPER THE WALLS OF YOUR CONFERENCE ROOM?

FUCK. YOU.

And naturally, the real solution is for me to leave my house 15 minutes earlier each morning. I feel rather indignant about that - I shouldn't HAVE to - but fine. Just because I can conceivably get somewhere on time in 30 minutes doesn't mean that the MTA WANTS TO MAKE ITSELF USEFUL FOR THINGS LIKE EFFICIENT TRANSIT. Good thing they do other helpful things like have nice stations and functioning speaker systems in their - wait a minute. So I suppose I must choose to begin to account for their delinquency by cutting into my precious morning minutes and leaving earlier. That does not seem worth $2 a ride to me.

Phew. I feel a centimeter better. If you read that whole thing, you win.

In other less irate news, I'm thrilled it's Friday. I need to catch up on some sleep. Had a nice chat with the ol' bf last night, but we were up pretty late. He's a gem though, that guy. I'm pretty crazy about him.

Tonight: A show I've been meaning to see. Tomorrow: The beach! Sunday: We rest.

gotta be fo me

I have no idea who still reads this thing. Even when I send the boyfriend the link to share with him one thing or another, I'm pretty sure he only skims through to see if his name is in the entry. He's like that. Maybe I'll start calling him Rick in these entries so that he never finds his name when he skims through. I would delight in that in a mean way. I'm like that.

Kidding, Rick. Love.

Being back in an environment that suits my headspace has been really soft and comfortable and feels like getting into bed after a long day of swimming and running around the park. I'm now able to be productive in personal ways that are hugely important to me and I don't feel like I'm suffocating under the weight of anyone else's insanity. That's also hugely important. I don't take so well to insanity. I'm also enjoying my life outside the work place a lot more than I was befo. It's important for a lot of reasons including things like friends and lovers.

Along with this blessing of freedom comes the curse of freedom. You who struggle with that dichotomy know what I mean. Luckily, I'm older, wiser, more patient, less angry and generally more capable than I was when I used to have the freedom of this job, so I anticipate that I will wear it better than I did before.

I've been reading a lot of blogs lately. New blogs, old blogs. It's an oh-so-favorite pastime. I love getting hooked on some unsuspecting stranger's, oh, say, May 2004 entries and reading until my eyes cross. I'm captivated by getting 'a sense' of a person. I realized this about myself last night when I began asking my friend Steve P. question after question about his father and his parents and what they're like and how they relate to him and to one another. I could ask anyone anything all day long. I thrive off asking people questions and listening to their answers and discovering that I have more questions based on what they've said. I'm curious. It's my nature. I oft (too oft) fantasize about officially conducting an interview series so that I'd feel a little less creepy about stopping Interesting Person X on the street and asking them at least ten questions about where they're going, what they're doing there, why they're making that face, if they know they're making that face, and how many siblings they have.

So the blog phenomenon (can it be called a phenomenon? i say no.) is right up my alley. I don't get to learn things on my terms necessarily, which is its own wonderful struggle, but I do get to absorb a great great deal of information about a person's experience as a human on this planet. And I can glean even more information about them based on what they haven't chosen to share. It's drool-inspiring. And if we're all lucky, they've got photos too!

But it also gives me a strange inferiority thing, the over-reading of blogs. Makes me sit and ponder whether or not I'm doing enough creatively with my own writing. Makes me wonder whether or not I actually have anything interesting to contribute to this interconnectedweb or whether I'm just writing to hear the click of my own keyboard. Does it fucking matter? Naturally not. And this thing's gotta be just fo me. Ya know? I'm this. I'm this exact person.

Twenty-seven, and all of you who've been there done that can commence eye rolling now, is definitely the age which, as it approaches, has caused me the most reflection and the most well-well-well-look-who's-actually-getting-older-and-cooler sense of myself than any other approaching age has in the past. And I've probably said that every single year since I was 15 and I'll probably say it for at least the next 90.

Comin' Up

A lot goin on.

Last Thursday, September 27, marked an anniversary which I let completely pass me by without realizing what was what. It wasn't until the following morning that it dawned on me that I'd missed the day. It's an important day to me, although it might seem like a goofy thing to keep track of. It is the day I started Weight Watchers and began the ol' journey toward losing 100 pounds. Yip. Tis. And Thursday marked five years since that day. It's a big deal for me. Five years later, I weigh myself maybe once a month, I write down what I eat so I can remember it later when I'm wondering if I should bite into six donuts at once, but beyond that, I don't do much tracking or record keeping anymore. I'm able to make good food choices naturally and best of all, I still exercise. And I enjoy it. Oh yeah and I've kept the weight off. So I'd say that mess has been cleaned up and cleared away to the best of my ability. Five years later, done and done.

I was on vacation last week, as you'll recall, and it was loveleh. I had a really great week off, got a lot done, reorganized myself in a variety of ways, did plenty of exercising, cleaning, tidying, dish-doing, hung with mah man, watched tv and performed in our shows and ate good meals and he took me on a little day trip up the Hudson and it was really a nice time. And this morning I woke up very comfortable with the idea of returning the work force. New-old job is just fine.

Naturally, as things go, I will have to save my pennies for a few weeks (or for the rest of time) and be frugal and aware of what I'm spending, since I'm desperate to pay off some debts by November 1. And there will be an adjustment because I won't get out of work until 7pm every day. But listen, I like this place and I don't mind the work and the job serves its purpose in my life which is to afford me the fiscal opportunity to play in comedy shows for no paychecks.

I'm intent on turning 27 (which will happen on November 7) as a confident, comfortable, joyful, relaxed young lady. I feel older and more self-organized and self-aware than ever. I love the month of October, I love the fall, I love that guy I sleep with (his friends read this blog so I'll spare you the lovestruck language), I love my cat, and I'm feeling well-rested and eager to tackle the next.

Today.

Was the first day of my vacation. I woke up this morning in the 7 o'clock hour and smiled, thinking of all the people at the job I left last week, working working away already. I was thrilled to be in bed instead.

I got up and did laundry today. And had brunch with Kev. Then I grocery shopped, cleaned up my apartment and did the dishes and dressed the bed and vacuumed, and Daniel can home from San Fran and I chatted with him. I have some more things I want to accomplish tomorrow. And some things I want to think about.

Have you ever seen the pick up artist on VH1?

Watch it.

Oh definitely.

The job is over.

I'm a very happy quitter.

A huge weight has already been lifted.

I got home from work around 2 today. And now I'm about to walk out the door of my apartment to go to my old acting school to teach some students about sketch comedy. Funny, that.

>sighs, grins, sleeps<

one more to summer

I cannot get out of here soon enough. I mean, I seriously cannot get out of here soon enough.

You know how sometimes you'll move through life tolerating something? Like, something you think you have to stand because you simply have to and it's not gonna end any time soon so rather than let yourself feel how you really feel about whatever it is, you just steel yourself to the fact that you have to learn to tolerate it because that's ultimately easier and healthier (or so you've decided) for your psyche than walking around bemoaning your never-ending troubles all day long. People do it all the time - with relationships they should have gotten out of years ago but didn't, with friendships they know deep down are no longer functional, with their lifestyle choices, like drugs or weight issues or health issues, and naturally, with jobs they know they should escape - people tolerate less than. People create normalcy around something that doesn't deserved to be normalized in their lives. People let themselves be okay with stuff that isn't okay. Because it's what people do.

But then...you know how sometimes you'll suddenly realize you've been tolerating something that you just don't have to fucking tolerate anymore? Something will click inside you or something will happen to shift life's circumstances around. And suddenly the whole world opens up like a giant oyster and reminds you that you don't have to do, be, live, think, eat, or feel a goddammed thing you don't want to do, be, live, think, eat, or feel.

And when that click or shift finally happens, along comes with it the realization that whatever thing you've been tolerating, whatever thing you've been subgigating yourself for, is actually a lot less worth tolerating than you thought. And your true feelings come rushing forward like a giant wave of salty ocean water. And you remember who you are without this albatross around your neck. And you wonder why the fuck you ever thought it'd be a good idea to stick it out in the first place.

I guess sometimes you have to stick shit out.

And sometimes you're done sticking it out and you have to get outta your own way and let that giant salty ocean water wave knock you down and soak your clothes and tangle your hair and fill your mouth and burn the inside of your nose, so that when the wave receeds back into the sea, you're left standing there, small, insignificant, blinking the sun out of your eyes, grinning, really glad to that you caught the bus to the beach.

Darling, it's been too long.

Well. I'm sleepy. So there's that. I should probably start by telling you that.

But I'll tell you the best news. I quit my awful job.

Yesssssssssssssssssssssssssss I did.

I gave my notice on Tuesday. They asked me to "give it another week" before I made a final decision. I said I would, but I mostly knew that my decision wouldn't be changing. I'll tell them on Monday that Friday is still my last day. (I would've told them earlier, but they've all been out since Wednesday afternoon for the Jewish holiday.)

The events leading up to my quitting will remain some of the most memorable in my professional life's history. Basically:

The crazy woman flipped OUT at me, completely unprovoked, when she couldn't successfully connect our boss, who was in Boston at the time, to a conference call. While she was throwing her temper tantrum (she threw shit, far and hard, across the room), stomping around, slamming doors, I figured out the conference call so that nobody got their butts ripped off by the boss man. This infuriated her. She told me I always pretend like I don't know how to do something and then wait til the last minute to save the day so that I can come out looking like the hero. Among other hilariousawful shit. So, based on her fury over this scenario, she then proceeded to enact what I like to call the Get Someone Fired Show for the next 3 days. I'm not kidding. I'm not exaggerating. You wish I was. I wish I was. I'm not.

The Get Someone Fired Show is a show I've witnessed several times before, but I've never been the 'someone.' Boy oh boy was I the someone this time. I won't regale you with all the unpleasant details – it was uuugly. But I will tell you my favorite favorite part:

After she spent two solid days performing the Show, slamming the doors to various conference rooms to make phone calls to or have meetings with various coworkers to tell them how awful I am (and I know because I CAN HEAR YOU EVEN IF THE DOOR IS CLOSED EVEN IF I'M NOT TRYING), whispering to anyone and everyone while gesturing in my direction, she finally got our boss on the phone, who was still in Boston, to tell him to fire me. Now, our boss likes me. And I should probably add that I'm a stellar employee at this place. I am here exactly on time every day, I work hard, I am always polite and pleasant and helpful. So she couldn't convince him that I had done anything wrong, let alone anything job-termination-worthy (probably because he's not a complete idiot). And it was frustrating her more and more by the second, enraging her really. She was yelling and screaming shit about how I "never do any work" (which I hear her yell while I'm sitting at my desk covered in work) and a whole ridiculous host of other accusations that couldn't be further based in the opposite-of-reality. But then the kicker, the real kicker. This sixty something mentally unwell mean horrible lady actually said to the multi-million dollar, no-nonsense President who doesn't give a fuck about anything but making money for his huge construction company, "…and if you think this is about me being jealous of her because she's young, it's NOT! I could get fifty fucking men faster than she could!"

As if the Universe weren't already marvelous enough, it sent me a great signal later that week in the form of a phone call from an old job that I loved and only left because I'd been there a year and I needed more money. They need me to come back indefinitely until I want to move on to some place else. And they will pay me the same thing I'm making now. And I don't have to be at work until 10am every day.

Sold.

Rrrrrrromance. (That's 'romance' in Spanish.)

After our zipcar trip up the Hudson last night, Daniel, Randy, Kevin and I stopped for ice cream cones. I was eating mine in a hurry, but I had at least five solid bites of the delicious cone left (and if I'm being honest with myself, those five bites are my favorite ice cream cone bites) when I dropped it on the pavement. Yes. That.

And without even missing a beat, my very sweet and generous boyfriend stuck out his arm and handed me the very last bite of his own delicious cone.

This, ladies, is what you're looking for in a man, whether you realize it or not.

i might get fired someday over these posts who cares

I had two glasses of wine last night after the Baldwins show; I haven’t really been drinking much in recent weeks. The first year or two that I was hangin around improv folk, I was out at the bar a lot more often than I am now, and I’d probably have a few drinks every time, but oof, you can only do that for so long. So now I only really go on Wednesdays and Saturdays, after improv and HST shows, with a few exceptions. And I’ll only have a drink or two, if any, (except for LIT night, right Clayton!? >pukes<) and last night was the same. Two glasses of Chardonnay, and I only had the second glass because Steve the manager bought it for me. THE POINT IS, I have a wee headache this morning from just the two glasses! Silly.

Psycho’s on the war path this morning. She’s been huffing and puffing and exasperatedly sighing all morning long, slamming doors and banging things around, snapping at people and whispering to whomever she can pull aside. And then she stopped dead in her tracks, looked up in a huff and said in a whine, “Do you pray for me?”

Oh gawd.

She meant it too, as a genuine query. She wasn’t just being rhetorical or facetious. Soon she’ll start laughing manically and acting like we’re all soulmates. She’s like a huge child that you have to ignore because there’s no other way for her to understand that her behavior is intolerable.

She’s out tomorrow. This is a blessing beyond blessing.

I feel like I’ve gotten through the thickness of this week and am just gonna sit pretty for the next few now. In case you want to read my preplans about it (tickticktick): Tonight, Dan, Randy, Kev and I will have an evening adventure upstate somewhere. We’re grabbing a zip car and we’ll just drive up the Hudson, chill out, and drive home when we’re sick of it. I’m looking forward to it because I never get to hang out with this iteration of friends and I happen to enjoy them each quite a lot, so all at once is thrice the fun. Then tomorrow, she’s out, which is bliss for me, and then I have a few things to do in the evening. And then Saturday morning I’m off to Chicago. I’m really looking forward to being at home – hoping the weather will be slightly cool, for a taste of fall – sitting on my mom’s couch, having a snack, seeing my family, laffing, catting with the cats, generally being my old Midwestern self.

p.s. Baldwins had a good show last night, I really enjoyed it. We’re finally finding our groove and it feels purdy good.

fruit and mattress

- fruit tastes good
- my mattress feels good
- thanks for foolishly giving me your mattress, Daniel
- i like smooching
- tongue sandwiches smell like pastrami but it still makes me barf to know i'm smelling tongue (a woman in my office eats tongue at least twice a week)
- going to Chicago on Saturday
- excited about it
- my hair feels really nice lately
- i have twiddled my hair (or my mother's hair) since i was an infant, no joke
- maturation feels good
- i'll be 27 soon, that's pretty adult sounding
- Daniel and Randy and Kevin and i are taking a zip car somewhere tomorrow night
- for fun, that's why
- people in the construction industry yell a lot
- we, as a nation, ARE. SO. WASTEFUL.
- i hate throwing away paper
- i'm definitely a child of the mid-eighties recycle everything movement
- cats

I just ate, how am I hungry?

I sort of love this morning. I got very little sleep last night – getting home from improv/bar stuff at 130 or so, and not getting into bed until 2 – but for some reason the lack of sleep isn’t that painful.

I mean, check in with me around 6pm when I have to go to HST practice and Baldwins practice from 630 to 1115, collectively. Oof, that might be a challenge.

But it’s so cool and fall-like here in the city for the last few days - what could possibly be wrong with life? I have always adored the fall, in that sentimental, nostalgic, football game sense. There’s a bittersweetness to it that makes everything sad feel sadder and everything happy feel like perfect sweet apple pie life. Plus kisses.

The crazy lady at my job might have quit. More on that later. But she’s not here this morning, at least, and it feels like a taste of freedom I haven’t known since she started here 6 weeks ago. Now give me a raise, dammit.

And to make matters more interesting, I’m going downtown on my lunch break to see about another job. It’s a year long freelance job I already landed at the beginning of the summer, but the start date kept getting pushed back. When I got this new gig, I never told the freelance job I would be unavailable when their start date finally rolled around, just in case it didn’t work out here. Well, things are finally “moving forward” with the freelance job and they want me to come back and meet with them to discuss. So I’m going. It seems the responsible thing to do. Keep the connection open, as Kevin would say. I’ll see what their deal is, what the hours will be like. I can’t imagine I’ll decide to switch jobs, but I want the option available to me if I need it. The place I’m working at now is notorious for a high turnover. People stay here months, not years, and walk out for good one afternoon without looking back. If/when I leave this place I hope to be more graceful about it than that but the harsh reality is that this place pushes grown men with families, families who’re depending on their six figure salaries, to abandon their desks mid-afternoon in tears. So perhaps if the other option looks more appealing, I’ll consider the switch.

I could have just as easily summed that all up by simply saying, “I might change jobs, I might not. I have to go see a guy about it today.”

It feels like fall out there!

I’ve already written several updates that never got posted. I have a habit of doing that.

The vacation was, all things considered, quite lovely, and there was a 14 month old baby along for the ride which is, although I’m sure many will disagree with me, a great way to vacation. I enjoy a nice baby every now and again.

I’m working working working. It’s gotten easier for a host of reasons: 1. I don’t care anymore. 2. The desks got moved around and it’s made my life a lot easier. A LOT easier. 3. 8am isn’t as early as it was at first. I’ve been at this for 7.5 weeks (I added that up just now, I haven’t been keeping track, or keeping a daily count, or carving a chunk of flesh out of my thigh each day – I haven’t!) and 8am doesn’t feel like death any more. I’m sure there are people in the world who have to get up at 4am to be at work by 6am, and for that I’m very sorry, but I’m notoriously anti-early-morning and an 8am start-time was painful at first, even if that sounds lame. But then I got real and came to terms with the fact that it’s just not that early. Apparently that’s called ‘adapting.’

I’ve also done a major clean of my bedroom and Daniel and I worked on some of the common spaces. Major accomplishments were made. And it has done wonders for my psyche. We’ve thrown out probably ten big garbage bags filled with crap. And beyond one pang of regret a day later over throwing out an expensive leather bag I kinda still liked, my show-no-mercy declutterization hasn’t had any negative repercussions. The streamlining of my crap has been a welcome change. And I’m doing more each day and trying to keep up with the tidying up each day. Tonight’s tackle: CLOTHES. Oof.

I’m also enjoying the cool weather. And mah cat. And mah man. And I’m going home for Grandma’s 75th b-day extravaganza which is over Labor Day. Stoked about that. Family is nice.

Dings for everyone.

vacate.

I'm on vacation. In the Berkshires. It is wonderful. I was here over the weekend, had to go back to work in the city on Monday and Tuesday, and returned tonight after work; Kev picked me up from a train station and now here I am at the hotel.

I'm very pleased. Perhaps even thrilled. And happy to be thinking of nothing but relaxing for the next five days.

Bye.

YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH.

That concert was AWESOME.

That was the perfect way to spend a Thursday night. I had a FUCKING BLAST.

Pretend there's a photo here.

Thanks Jess...

...for your comment. It actually made me feel a lot better. (And btw, I think you commented a while back and I never responded. Thanks for that one too.)

It’s funny because as I was writing that post last night, I was actually thinking of you. (You, whom I barely know.) Because I remember you writing things like that before – that you need two weeks away from everything. We are same.

I’m feeling better today, internet. Writing that last night probably helped a lot. And my coworker was in her usual miserable form today but somehow it slid more easily off my back.

Speaking of, I’d like to refer everyone to the comment left by “irritated” on yesterday’s post. I think that might be my first ever experience of a drive-by-inappropriate-blog-comment! which I know all you seasoned bloggers are old pros at receiving. (Btw, if you ever want to read some doozies of nasty comments go to Dooce's blog. That poor woman gets more nasty hatemail…But she wonderfully weaves the best hatemails into hilarious posts on her blog every month or two. I love her.) Luckily, I’m relatively easy going about meanies, so it wasn’t terribly upsetting, but if you have a second, take a glance at it. I’m pretty proud of it – as it’s my first ever.

Oh and I should add, I might take some stock in what “irritated” had to say if I hadn’t written a post just inches down the screen with the title “Happy As Clam.” Somehow I feel like that and other positive entries preclude me from having to justify job stress. Waaaait a minuuuuute…do you have me second guessing myself, irritated? Certainly, no. Back to regularly scheduled self-assurance.

p.s. Beastie Boys concert in Bklyn tonight! Whuuut!

>sighs<

I'm depressed. Simple. I feel crappy. I'm feeling misunderstood and alone in my struggles. I'm sick of it being so fucking muggy and hot all the time. There was a tornado in Brooklyn this morning and I couldn't get into work all day today. I'm sick of getting up early. I'm sick of being sick of getting up early. I'm sick of bitching about my job on here - with Kevin - to my friends - to my coworkers - in my improv. I want to turn the whole world off for 21 days. I want time to stop. I want to go home to Illinois and eat cheese and crackers in my grandparents kitchen while time stops and nothing matters. I'm sick and tired of the crazy woman at my job exhausting the fuck out of me with her insanity - she's the nightmarish great aunt or obnoxious oldladynextdoor that everyone hates. I'm pissed off that I don't know what next, that I have to work daily to rewrap my mind around why I'm doing this, what it gets me, and what reality would be like if I weren't doing it. I'm furious that leaving this job would cause a lot more problems than it would solve. I'm furious that being at this job is causing at a lot more problems than I expected it to. I'm pissed off, I'm tired, I'm hungry all the damn time for no realistic reason, I'm CONSTANTLY HAVING TO DEAL WITH THESE ENORMOUSLY DIFFICULT PERSONALITIES AT MY JOB AND I'M THE LAST PERSON ON THE PLANET WHO WOULD WIN A "CAPABLE OF TOLERATING INSANE BEHAVIOR AWARD." I'm fucking pissed fucking off. Okay? And that's the goddammed long and short of it. I wish everyone would shut up and get outta my face.

And as livinginthemoment, which is how I'm trying to live, would have it, I apparently have three choices: remove myself from the situation, change the situation, accept the situation.

I'll think on that. Meanwhile, fuck this.

Has it really come to this?

I'll try to write more later today. But has it really come to a weekly blog update? Yeeps. That's terrible.

I'm workin like crazy and it makes me tired and I have a little self pity over it this weekend. I had to bail on plans with friends of Kevin's today because I am desperate to get some laundry done and spend a little time at my apartment. I feel awful about it because nobody likes a plan-bailer, but I had to make this decision.

Luckily, I got to catch up with Keith and Phil last night at the bar, which was great. I rarely get to sit down with those guys anymore, so it was really nice to get to chat and laugh with them.

I have been grouchier, more irritable, and less patient lately. And it's taking its toll. Kevin's being awesome about it, but I still wish the circumstances could be different.

This weekend, like the others, will probably go by too quickly, especially with an HST video shoot tomorrow at 9am. I'm livin day by day right now with a paycheck-as-carrot being constantly dangled in front of me.