Saturday, December 4, 2010

I'd like to say we're back in business, but...

I can't commit to regularly posting yet.

Much has happened that I should tell you about, well, nothing monumental I suppose. Same job (now with 45% more suckage), same apartment (now with horrorfying bug infestation and nightmarishly bad upstairs neighbors), same relationship (now with resentment building on my side as the boy is being committment phobic), same car (no complaints, starts daily!), living in the same city (which makes sense when you read above), around the same weight (give 5 or 10 pounds, I don't know, I haven't weighed myself since last May-ish, but my "big" clothes are tight), mostly the same, really, and yet...different.

The holidays are upon us! Really, we are in the midst of them. This year I've decided to not throw my annual holiday party. I love being festive and I yearn for that warmth society tells us we should have, surrounded by friends, having good food and enjoying the company of others. This year I want a low key holiday. And, if you read the guide I wrote last year about throwing a holiday party I'm also freaking tired of trying to wrangle damn people into some kind of cohesive get together. A year off should be good, I'll be able to approach next year with renewed vigor. I'm tired of people flaking, not having enough people to invite, people showing up and being weird, blowing tons of money on one night, and I'm meloncoly (in a good way, sorta) because I yearn for friends who live around the country, for a get together that won't happen, and I'm not going to settle for a shell of that idea.

I just want, for ONCE, to be invtied to someone else's damn holiday party. The kind where you get dressed up and eat decent food and laugh and have a good time, is that so much to ask for? I don't think I'm making this up, I think these kinds of parties happen, I just want to know why I have made it this close to 30 and still failed to access the kind of social circle said things happen in. I may be depressed, damnit, but I'm not a complete hermit.

This year I'm happy to save money and not dip into my paltry savings for Christmas. I plan on getting a small tree, I'm sticking to a strict budget for presents and foregoing the holiday swaree. A bit of me wonders too if people will even notice or miss my get-together. Maybe that will motivate someone next year to throw their own. And luckily I'll be too busy to really notice it isn't happening. This weekend I have to clean, my apartment is a shambles, (I fear finding more bugs when I clean but that is an entire post, perhaps book, for another time) and relax. Next weekend is busy with family stuff and helping friends move to their new house. The following weekend is full family time as we are celebrating the holiday a week early to accomidate schedules. The following weekend is actualy Christmas, which I hope will be low key and lovely and will be spent with my signifigant other.

This time of year makes me miss friends desperately and yearn for the sort of family my family should be, but aren't. That's okay. It's okay to be sad. It's okay to be lonely for something that I've never had. It's okay that I've been unable to create such things in my life, I'm okay and it is okay and I'm not going to worry about it. Just acknowlegde the sadness and move on. That's the best way I can describe it.

Do any of you have exciting holiday plans you wish to share? Believe me, just being with your family, around a tree, all together is exciting. Or, if you don't do the holiday which requires the tree, just spending time with friends and family this season is exciting and wonderful in and of itself. If I don't post before the end of the year I wish the best for all of you, and miss all of you, and know that I condsider each of you part of my extended family, the one we get to create as adults. Much love and misses, Eris

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

So my birthday happened

Among other things. It was okay, I'm okay, I'm still around, but damn if depression ain't kicking the bejebus outta me.

I miss you.

I miss ME.

I need to get me back, somehow, but I have to weather this first.

Sunday, August 29, 2010

Work Internet Use (or, Deja Vu, because I know I've mentioned this before, but now with new developments)

Whereas I don’t think I really, absolutely, totally abused the internet at work (no online gambling, porn, celebrity gossip, shoe shopping, blogging, gaming, plotting against world organizations, etc), I certainly used it more than our policy allows (30 minutes a week, only work appropriate).

I check several email accounts, the news, my bank accounts and some of my favorite blogs from work daily. If things are really slow, or if I’m particularly fed up and really hating on my job I’ll visit cracked or xkcd or just surf around looking for stuff to read. I do all this in a very transparent manner; I don’t try to sneak past the tracking or the work proxy. I enter my credentials, my user name and password, into the proxy prompt every time I go to the web and I know damn well that HR has a list with every site I’ve visited, which is probably fairly ugly and perhaps even a bit embarrassing (and this without me reading up on trashy celeb gossip!).

Over a year ago, I may have even blogged about it here; it came to my attention that my non-work related internet usage was the highest in my division. I was amazed. Other people spend HOURS on the internet. There is printing of LOLcatz galore and shoe shopping abounds and all-around shenanigans of the web variety taking place. That is when I learned about secret DSL and wireless lines and people coming up with creative ways to bypass the tracking proxy. Which REALLY PISSED ME OFF.

In the overall scheme of things my job is fairly lenient and relaxed. At least, in comparison to other jobs I have had. The rules are very realistic and simple and easy to abide by if you aren’t, oh, say, a giant freaking jerk face. Which many of the people I work with, nay, many of the people on this planet are. The obvious and insane abuse of work amenities and time just added to the continually growing list of super messed up crap people pull around here, so I was angry as hell, and even angrier because I knew NOTHING WOULD BE DONE. NOTHING. We have a person who shows up an hour and a half late to work every day, takes two hour lunches, disappears for hours at a time and is a nightmare to work with. Their attitude was so bad that they finally quit last year, which was great, but then, being the failure that they are, they came crawling back. AND WE HIRED THEM BACK. They made it to work on time for about two months and are now back to being a ridiculously F’d up employee, but nothing will be done. Nothing was ever done, (which is why documentation is important oh managers out there!) and they will continue to do 15% of the job I do, in half the hours, for more than I make. My job is really getting me down. But it is worse elsewhere and there are no jobs to be had in this economy and oh lord, did I steal money from blind children in a previous life?

ANYHOO the reason I tell you this is because today, amazingly, my division head said in a big cross division meeting that management is aware that there is rampant abuse of the internet and that it needs to stop. They know about the secret wireless and DSL and better yet some jackasses are using generic login/password combos (the ones we use for testing) to access the internet. They understand that we are stressed (read: lazy entitled bastards) but it needs to stop and they will document it and pull us aside if they have to.

Now, I do abuse the internet at work according to our rules. Ya, I’m not awful, but I’m still not following policy. But I’m also not lying about it or doing anything sneaky, I’m honest about my abuse. That makes me a good person (heh). Of the few constants in my life I can tell you this: I’m honest. I always have been. I always will be. It is important to me that even when abusing work policy I’m still honest about it, and other people should be too. Is that too much to ask? I think not. I’m not saying I’m perfect or wonderful or better than everybody (I’m better than the liars) but I am honest, and non honesty really, really, really bugs me.

Knowing how my employer works nothing will come of the internet abuse warning. If management even tries to talk to someone, which they won’t, then that employee will threaten to grievance and not a damn thing will be done. I don’t care. I’m just super super happy that something was said, that management saw or listened to someone pointing the internet malarkey out (even though I pointed it out 18 goddamn months ago and jackshit was done). It was nice to hear. My standards, indeed, are quite different from what they were three years ago.

Of course, I’m going to have to hold onto this happiness as a distraction because good grief, 6 hours in and I MISS the internet. I’m having withdrawals. I don’t know what my bank balance is or what the local news is (hint: stabbing/shooting/assault in my neighborhood, but where?) or if I got any blog comments. I’m both thrilled at this morning’s announcement and ashamed that I’m this addicted to work internet. A half hour a day is two hours more than we’re allowed a week, which means I’m into semantics. I never lied or finagled my internet, but I abused the policy. I argue that the people up to no good are far more evil and rotten then I am but a broken rule is also a broken rule.

What do you think?

Tuesday, August 24, 2010

Of Depression, Botox, and My Broken Apartment

Depression is an admirable and crafty foe. It gets you where you live. At such a time when you really, truly, need to be getting out and getting sun and doing what you like and being social and trying new things the very thought of even putting on shoes make you want to take a long, long nap.

It took me years to even accept that depression has a major chemical component to it. A mixture of my upbringing and society and the awesome head game that is depression itself led me to believe that it is a personal failure and that I'm a horrible, worthless, stupid person for even having to deal with it. Good therapy, much research, mild positive meditation and education had taught me otherwise, and I am grateful. Now I know that especially at times like this when it hits me hard and dirty that it is chemical mostly, and that if I just relax, observe, let go and give myself a break things will be much easier.

I don't appreciate having to deal with it but I am hugely, wordlessly, grateful that I can see it better now and have some basic coping skills. Oh, I hate it. I hate it with every fiber of my being (though that hate is greatly muffled by the depression; it, like the rest of my life, gets smashed into a big burlap sack which makes all emotions and living much like trying to look at daylight through a window coated in three inches of mud).

It doesn't help that I'm still in limbo apartment wise, ready to come home and find the eviction for the landlord's foreclosure on the door. That, actually, is the least of my bothers with the place. It reeks like mold or mildew that no amount of bleach, baking soda, vinegar or lysol sprayed down the kitchen drain will fix. The garbage disposal, microwave, and now dishwasher are all broken.

When I'm depressed I'm unbelievably overwhelmed by things that I normally handle; the very thought of hand washing all the dishes in the dishwasher growing mold is too much for me to bear so I ignore it. I'm even too overwhelmed to just throw them out and start over, seriously, unless you've been depressed that sounds INSANE but believe me: I can't handle it. When things like that start to build the rest falls apart too; laundry isn't getting done. I don't vacuum. I haven't grocery shopped in weeks. I'm too overwhelmed to make good food choices so I eat crap which makes me feel much much worse (I know what processed sugar and fast food do to me and yet I still eat them, knowing full well I'll feel like hell and sleep bad and have no energy yet I can't escape the circle).

For a variety of reasons I haven't been able to see my therapist for over a month, thank heavens I see her this Thursday. 50 minutes won't be enough, but I'll take what I can get.

There is more on the depression but that should give you an idea. It sucks but I don't want to worry anyone or freak anyone out. I'm not now, nor have I ever been (thank God for big favors) suicidal. Homicidal...sometimes perhaps, but suicidal no :)

As for botox, I went in for the consultation. The woman who gave it to me is the same age as me. Her assistant is 24. They both use botox. Seriously. Whereas I really, really want it and the other night I caught my forehead in a mirror in poor light and wanted to weep I just can't justify the lack of concrete data.

Oh, sure, they tell you that it has been used as a wrinkle treatment on the market for 20 years now and that there are no damaging side effects but really? How many things, let's just say ALL, always turn out in the history of mankind to have lasting severe side effects? We put lead in candy and asbestos in houses and you know back then they insisted that such things were entirely safe.

Even if money weren't an issue (botox ain't cheap) I am too worried about potential long term effects. Which is an awesome catch 22 because worrying makes me wrinkle more and my wrinkle makes me worried and I go around and around and around and the depression just makes it worse get the picture. The super perky, perpetually smiling women that gave me my consult scared me too; when I asked about long term use studies or if it were safe to start killing my muscles so young or if my face would just slide off someday after years of use they got snippy and blew me off. Really? Any medical procedure, even one as "simple" as botox, should be taken seriously, and if you want to get 1200.00 bucks a year out of me maybe you shouldn't be bitchy when I ask what are very basic and logical questions.

So. No botox for me, yet. Maybe in 6 years if there is more conclusive data...or maybe never. I hate my forehead, it ages me badly, in a baseball cap I'm 22, in a ponytail I'm 38, but fixating isn't going to make it any better.

Thanks as always for coming around. I'm here. I'm probably just depression napping (like real napping but without the satisfaction or joy). And developing some dreadful mold related disease.


Friday, August 20, 2010

Summer Blues

First I get the three month illness of doom that essentially anhialates my summer and now the fallout from that is being exausted, gaining so much weight that my fat pants are super tight, and a crippling morbid depression I can't shake. I haven't been this down in a long time. I'm around, but life has officially kicked my booty, my big fat flabby untoned unable to make it up stairs without panting booty.

I'd blog but it would be depressing jibberish.

I'll be around when I'm a bit better.

Saturday, July 31, 2010

I have 70 bottles of nail polish and I paint my nails twice a year, tops

Right hand:

I have no retirement account.

I have hardly any savings.

I have student loan debt to the tune of 25k.

In my life I've paid off 50k in medical debt, easily. And my monthly meds are more than my rent.

I have a $350.00 month car payment that will last another five years.

I have no equity.

I own no gold.

I have no rich elderly relatives.

I do not buy lottery tickets.

I just took another pay cut at work.

I'm 28 and I've never not been broke.

Ergo, the obvious conclusion is: I have a consultation for botox next Tuesday.

Because clearly, I am a big freaking idiot. A broke, this close to living on the street, lucky to have a job yet unvelieveably shallow idiot.

Because I am not adding a goddamn forehead wrinkle to the mess above.

Left hand:

I lined up all my polish in ROYGBIV order (visible color spectrum) on one of my bookshelves so you could see my shame. Not only the shame of owning so many polishes and never using them (some are from over ten years ago but still working) but I should also mention the shame in that that isn't my "good" book shelf, I have several and this one just happens to be the catch all for books that I wasn't crazy about but haven't gotten rid of yet, or perhaps books that I do like but are too ugly to be displayed with other books. That and my super awesome autographed photo of Michael Palin:

While taking the above photo I totally spaced and forgot to take the photos of me and the boyfriend kissing, on vacation, etc, down so I had to retake the shot later. I try to keep this blog anonymous, yo. So if you notice that I left something retarded like my birth certificate or drivers license or global coordinates to my condo in the photo will you please let me know?

You wanted pictures, you got pictures. These are my real nails, thank you to Sallyacious for suggesting that my nails were probably dry and needed a good oil or cream, now I use Burt's Bees Cuticle Cream which really helps. I'm also glad I took the picture today because now the left middle nail is cracking and going to snap off at any moment, the nails may look all purty but they're about to implode.

As for the botox it is seriously just a free consultation. For now. I want to learn all I can about injecting poison into my face using money I don't have to desperately cling on to a youth I didn't much like so that I don't obsess while I fall asleep at night over my freaking forehead wrinkle of doom and creep people in my age range out by staring at their foreheads. At least I'm not going out and buying more damn nail polish, seriously.

Wednesday, July 28, 2010

Seperate yet together, this human thing

Still sickly, getting better. Today I managed to take a small walk at lunch.

My nails are sky blue.

If you are in the market for good, real, powerful blogging read this post from Sallyacious. And be in awe. The internet brings us close to the vulnerability and strength that people posses in a way we miss during our daily lives.

I rest now.

Sunday, July 11, 2010

Because being sick has made me shallow

Still not writing about the sick (you know, the one that NEVER DIES) or the secondary infections I've picked up that I cannot shake (ouch, fuck, what the hell? shoot me) or the 15 pounds I've picked up during said time. Not writing about that at all.

Instead, a poll. What color should I paint my nails? I own literally every color of polish yet ironically hate the feeling of polish on my nails and never use it. But after two months of doing pretty much nothing my nails are super long and lovely and begging for me to ruin them with polish. So. What do you say?


Screw my boring nails and check out this site I just found, holy cow: The Daily Nail. Now THAT is some nail painting people.

Also, the next time I decide to eat black licorice, oreos, hostess cakes and a half gallon of milk for dinner please beat me with something heavy. I don't care if I've been sick for two GD months, that doesn't make me RETARDED. GAH.

Wednesday, July 7, 2010

Let's talk about something other than the sick, shall we?

And maybe even try to have a cohesive theme?

Next March I am an attendant in my Gay ex-boyfriend from high school's wedding (old Hollywood, very posh, I am one of only four attendants total which I guess is the word the gays use for multipurpose best man/maid of honor title).

My boyfriend just called and said friends of his are getting married in late August (nice notice on that one geniuses) and OMG can he run out and get fitted for a tux to be in the wedding? Yesterday? I'm all for a fast, easy wedding but they gave him a month's notice. At least my gay friend has the class to give me almost a year notice. Then again, my boyfriend doesn't have to lose weight to look good in a suit and I don't want to be a satin sausage next year so...was my gay friend insinuating that I'm fat? Damnit.

Last summer was the first summer in my adult life that I didn't attend a wedding or two or five or eleventy million. I wasn't upset or anything, just surprised. No bad food? No awkward relative small talk? No quiet judgment/horror at the heavily religious tones in a wedding of two people who planned on holding an orgy in Burning Man later that summer? No having to shell out big bucks for a silly gift the happy couple would never un-box (breadmaker? really? and who makes enough home-made icecream EVER to justify a $250.00 pricetag? No one drinks from crystal anymore people, get your stemware at the dollar store like the rest of us) that would someday be sold at a garage sale for a dollar, still in box, when they split up? Awesome.

My trusty favorite wedding attire didn't make it out of the closet last summer. Yes, I have worn the same dress to several weddings but in my defense none of the weddings were in the same town, with the same group of people, or even with the same date, so said dress racked up plenty of mileage. It is a fabulous dress, totally unexpected yet fun and flattering and always lands me compliments even though the base color is yellow and yellow is SO not my color.

It fills me with joy when something can be worn multiple times. I am still looking forward to the day when I can find use for my old high school dance dresses, well, the ones that I didn't recycle into Halloween costumes (that and I couldn't fit a thigh into my old size zero goods but let us pretend, shall we? Perhaps I fashion them into something tasteful for my niece? Since only a six year old will ever fit into my old twee attire?). Sadly my go to wedding attire extraordinaire cannot be worn to the upcoming wedding in August. Said wedding ensemble (I have to come up with ways to describe it other than wedding dress because though it is a dress I wear to weddings it is clearly not a wedding dress) was worn two summers ago at a wedding that included people that will be at this wedding and though I know all those retarded bastards were tripping out of their minds on booze and other substances hence it is doubtful anyone will remember my dress I still cannot wear something to the same kind of function with the same kind of people twice. (Luckily the caliber of people at this wedding are better than the caliber of people at that wedding. Oh lord. That wedding was AWFUL. It permanently took a chunk out of my trust and faith in humanity.). Which

Jebus I hate the shopping.

Jebus I hate the shopping when I'm 40 pounds overweight. (60 pounds over what I weighed in highschool. GD double chin you are the bain of my existence).

Jebus I hate spending money on anything I'm not guaranteed I can wear again.

Jebus Jebus Jebus.

And lo though I am gaining on 30 and my boyfriend is right behind me and the betrothed for August are keeping pace as well my boyfriend has decided that tickets to the ultimate Metal show (testament, slayer, etc.) are the perfect gift for the happy couple. Even though the bride hates metal. Though, at least it isn't flatware or some other crap they'll never use.

So what is appropriate wedding wear for a summer wedding in a climate where it will be easily 100 degrees? Because maybe if I just sew all my old highschool dance dresses together it'll be big enough to wrap around me...

Hah! I didn't mention being STILL sick even once. Though I think it shows in my work. I am clearly a better writer than this, but you get the gist of things, and we can just pretend I had a cohesive ending.

Sunday, July 4, 2010

How many posts do I have with the title Allo? Can I just do it again? Allo.

Officially I have been sick since BEFORE memorial day and into the 4th of July. My illness has now spanned the only two three day weekends I get off for summer and to say that I am pissed, worried, exhausted, and more would be an understatement.

I am better. I can make it to to work, nap in my car at lunch, and make it home. I can't clean or shop or stay up past 7PM or anything crazy like all that, but I am better than I was before. I am miserable now because my body is wrecked. I'm exhausted and severely fatigued and getting better so slowly, so imperceptably, I fear it will be months before I've fully recovered. I don't know how to speed things along, if there were a way to do it, so I just lay in bed feeling my body turn to mush and cursing the broken garbage disposal that makes my apartment reek regardless of gallons of bleach and baking soda and vinegar poured down there yet mildly thankful that, hell, at least I can finally SMELL again.

And I have this to say: WTF? What the hell did I pick up? Why did I pick it up? Where did I pick it up from? Why does my immune system function like the baby bird that falls out of the nest and slowly hobbles about with broken wings until it dies alone or is eaten on the forrest floor? Why does something as innocuous as a cold lead to total immobility and crippling illness? Do I have to wear a SARS mask the rest of my life just so I can get around? Why do I have the compromised immune system of an 80 year old AIDS patient?

Gah. Enough. I cannot dwell on these things. I have to rally my strength and my focus on the daily grind of making it to work and grocery shopping on the weekend and pray that each day I'm a bit better. Better enough to do laundry. The next day perhaps better enough to blow dry my hair. Hope the next day I'm better enough to get up and start walking again, start being mobile again, but so afraid I'll relapse. I'm still carrying some lingering viral infection of hell and the meds wrecked my body so I'm in a super weakened state; even if my mind wants to get up and do things my body doesn't.

Totally unrelated: Does anyone genunely believe this thing between Katy Perry and Russell Brand is going to work out? And can anyone explain to me why I know who they both are even though I don't listen to her music and I've never seen his comedy?

Happy Fourth of July my fellow Americans. And for my friends out there who aren't of US origin happy summer! Please go out and hike or go the beach for me and send me psychic waves of outdoorsy summer joy. And an immune system, I'd really like one of those too.

Thursday, June 24, 2010

Still Sick: Starting on month TWO


I've been sick OVER A FREAKING MONTH now.

I'm dragging myself to work because I'm totally out of time even though the doc told me to stay home until July 01. And I'm training a new person at work. Because I kicked puppies in a previous life.

And I haven't lost one goddamn pound. NOT ONE.


Monday, June 14, 2010

People are RETARDED

And the internet just encourages them. I'm googling NyQuil and I come across this: "can you take NyQuil on heroin?". Really?


You have a cold and heroin just ain't cutting it?

Or is heroin just not providing the high you'd hoped for so you're gonna freebase NyQuil?

Jebus fucktards. When is natural selection gonna kick in already? Or has it? What if evolution is actually working BACKWARD to wipe our retarded race out? Because really? If you're on HEROIN the least of your worries is weather it is SAFE to take NyQuil with it.


Friday, June 11, 2010

Still Sick: The Sickening Continues

Dragged myself to work yesterday despite exhaustion. By the time I got home my temperature had gone up again. Went straight to bed at 6 in the afternoon. Got up today to go to work, showered, dressed, put on makeup and did my hair, sat down to put on my shoes, took my temperature and it was 100.5. Had to call in. Again. I'm totally out of sick time. I'm totally screwed. And after 3 doc visits I don't know what is wrong. Antibiotics killed the ear infections and the sinus infection but it appears I'm stuck with a wicked viral infection that will not die.

This really, really, really sucks.

Friday, June 4, 2010

Still. Sick.

Help. Me.

Having reached the end of my rope and being too damned sick to make a cute reference about hanging myself with it or something I have this to say: When I am better I will find a new primary care doctor so help me Gob even if I only see them once before I hypothetically move. WebMD is surprisingly useful and instead of scaring me (like the internet did when I googled sinus infections that never die and sweet jebus the things that came up) it gave me great information and hope. Hope as in: I probably have acute sinusitis which will likely last another couple of weeks and there are treatments (ever hear of nasal irrigation? No? Don't watch the tutorial) that may help, you know, once I have the strength to attempt them.

After two weeks of this, using up all my sick time at work and now I'm using up my precious little vacation time, it was nice of WebMD to at least give me an idea that there is possibly and end in sight. In another 2-3 weeks. Which, FINE, F it, ruin my summer see if I care.

The antibiotics have cleared up the ear infections, mostly, so that is good. Nasal steroids are fucking evil and made me worse, so look for me to post pictures of their untimely death in fire when I get well.

In between med doses I've been surfing the net and there are damn pictures for the new Kutcher/Heigl movie "Killers" freaking everywhere. Now, I love me some Go Fug Yourself amongst other gossip sites but I am sorely disappointed that not one, ONE, place has mentioned the ghastliness of Katherine's hair in the movie:

The movie looks awful. But her hair? WTF? It's like a bad, never-married, older aunt hair cut from the 70s. Who the hell decided that was the look to give their leading lady? Clearly I am not a gossip columnist nor a qualified internet judge of such things with my own spiffy website but something is wrong people. Something is UP. I think the makers of this wretched movie paid the interwebs off so that no one would make fun of Heigl's hair. I can ignore the bad photo shop, the doofy dress, the awful movie premise, and even my concern that Hollywood apparently thinks movie goers are drooling idiots since they can hardly manage to throw us a decent bone every once in awhile but THE HAIR IS UNACCEPTABLE. Google around for more photos of it, I can't take anymore.

There. I've gotten it out there. Now maybe the universe will reward my good deed (hopefully saving hundreds of clueless women from trying to emulate said hairstyle) AND MAKE ME BETTER ALREADY. I'm not equipped for a life as a shut in. I don't even have cable TV and I don't hoard stuff.

I can't have booze on these meds, so, how safe is it to mix my old prescription pain meds and muscle relaxers with NyQuil? Anyone? I just want to sleep the rest of this away...

j/k of course. I know NyQuil has alcohol in it. When I'm better I wholly intend to mix a bottle with champagne and guzzle it, but until then, I'm up a creek.

At least my hair isn't retarded.

Wednesday, June 2, 2010

I've been sick for days upon days now ***now with less crazy update

And it really isn't doing anything for my mental well being.

I'm out of sick time at work.

I still had to call in today. AGAIN.

I fucking hate hate hate hate the stupid jackass motherfucker piece of crap asshole doctor creep I had to drag myself to see at urgent care yesterday SO MUCH that I'm writing a goddamn letter to urgent care, and emailing them, and calling their customer service. BULAJDFKLJALIEWUFJLEKDHFLKAJLTFIEJL Ahem. Still ANGRY.

It doesn't help that I've felt like hell for much over a week and see no end in sight and lost the memorial day three day weekend to being bed ridden. It really, really isn't helping my mood any. Sorry. I need to vent a bit and don't know how to get all the crap out without bumming the mood out, ya know?

I called my primary care doc who couldn't freaking see me for at least a week, necessitating the trip to urgent care which cost money I didn't have for NOTHING, begging her to please for the love of god just call in some goddamn antibiotics to my pharmacy already, I'm dying here. I really shouldn't take antibiotics since I'm allergic to most of them and there are a select few left I can take but I literally can't afford, both financially and mentally, to be sick any longer.

I updated the side bar, removed links to blogs that straight up disappeared (Chollyson? You okay out there?) and bloggers who totally stopped updating even longer than I have (CEO, SexedHigherED, people I miss). So the new sidebar at least has active links to blogs I read and love. If you know of any good ones pass them my way.

Was getting spam comments had to turn on comment moderation.

That is the last of my productive energy. If I keep typing it will just be more FUCKFUCKGODDAMNFUCKHATEAUGHGHGHGHHGHGHGHGHG and we don't need that.

No news on moving yet. No idea. I don't know. Make the sick stop please.

***Things that help when you are on the verge of mental collapse: crying your eyes out in your hallway, thus exacerbating your sinus infection but also clearing you out just enough to call the fucktards at Urgent Care, ripping them new ones (seriously, didn't know I had that in me), demanding the right meds, leaving an angry message with your flake of a primary care doc, dragging your disgusting un-showered self to the pharmacy (I haven't been able to smell for 11ish days but I'm sure I didn't smell great), grabbing new semi dangerous antibiotics and super steroids, drag self home, pound meds, pass out. Far less crazy now. Fingers crossed that this works and I'm at least able to make it to work Thursday and Friday.

Also, note to self, figure out how to harbor the awesome angry yet rational skills that I demonstrated on phone today for future use.


Saturday, May 22, 2010

Of LA, maybe moving and: How did you overcome the paralyzing force of fear in your life? And were you happy once you did it?

The boyfriend and I went on a quick fact finding mission of sorts down to the Southern California/LA area to visit friends and to get a feel for the place. The drive was long. We had a fun time. LA is much as I remember it: a pretend city that is mostly suburban sprawl hell, covered in smog, full of itself, and entirely too dependent on freeways.

The boyfriend loves it. He wants to move down tomorrow.

My people essentially originate from the area. Sorta. My Great, Great Grandparents were both indentured German servants, who eventually settled in Nebraska, and then onto California.

My boyfriend and I visited the house my Great Grandfather built in an orange grove while my Grandfather crawled around in one of those adorable white lacy dressing gowns they put both baby boys and girls in. The house, once a symbol of my father's idyllic 1950s childhood, is surrounded by apartment buildings and city muck. My Grandparents sold it a few years before they died, my Grandfather bitter about having to leave his families' legacy, but they were well into their 80s and the neighborhood has ceased being safe a long time ago and they couldn't get around anywhere anymore (hell, getting to the neighborhood itself was a feat). The folks who bought my family legacy were promptly foreclosed on and the house was busted for manufacturing meth.

I'm surprised to see the house is still standing and happy to see that the area seems to have turned around a bit; folks were walking their dog down the street and people were sitting on their porches, something that didn't happen five years ago. The house itself had new siding and flowers and a basketball hoop. I would have stayed to stare longer, trying to capture moments of my childhood visits to them and praying for some kind of sign for what to do with my life, but there was no parking and it is creepy to stare at someone's house, so I got a few covert pictures and we left.

I've been to the area many times. As a child to see family. As a teenager on very, very long school road trips to visit video editing and post production houses, to see television sets, to tour the industry, and later as a last high school hurrah for senior trip. As a young adult I've been in the area to see friends, to attend college conferences, gone to Disneyland. Last year I managed to survive a family trip down to Disneyland, my now adult siblings and I, my parents, and my niece, all in one car and two hotel rooms, to share in taking my niece on her first trip to the happiest place on earth. That was five months before my Grandpa died. My own father, then faced with his own mortality and the fact that his children have all grown, seemed to struggle with his place in the world on that trip. I am struggling with mine too, in a new context: move to LA or not?

I don't know.

I have a half created metaphor for the city floating around in my head that I haven't bothered to flesh out: That LA is essentially Lindsay Lohan; marginally talented, once had promise, sucks you in with the allure of that promise, and then you find yourself with a coked out walking cadaver, a shell of reality, all smoke and mirrors and clawing desperation to make it to the top. LA has lots of jobs, sure, but it is all smoke and mirrors. And did I mention ugly? I've been lucky enough to visit some very pretty places and Hollywood, Burbank, Pasadena, Glendale and even Santa Monica are none of them. Brentwood and Beverly hills are okay to look at, but not real, like play pretty houses in the center of city mire.

Part of me knows that the city I live in is a pit. But a new part of me is emerging; the part of me that is scared to give up a (crappy, miserable) job in this economy. Suddenly the part of me that has always yearned for more and wanted to get out and finally DO SOMETHING is silenced. It is silenced by something saying that I am too old, that I am not talented, that it is selfish of me to want to be a writer (and work in comedy), and that I'm damn lucky to even have a job right now and I should hold on to it with all my might.

Suddenly too, even though it is currently snowing outside, again, a new part of me has popped up and is saying that this city isn't so bad, hell, it is even pretty compared to LA and Las Vegas and, well, all of central California, and most of the central United States, and and and...

I don't know.

I keep returning to I. Don't. Know.

I've scrambled and suffered for a decade. I've had multiple setbacks. And always, in the back of my mind, the mantra has been "When I get out of here I am finally going to try it, to do it, no matter what" because at least trying is actually 99% of the real accomplishment, you know? Yet now I'm surrounded by fear and confusion and...failure. Why do I feel so old all of a sudden? What am I supposed to do? I'm quiet, I try to hear my inner voice, my authentic self, and it...has nothing to say. Nothing to say but I don't know.

I know 28 isn't old, per se, but I should have done this at 18. I'm paralyzed by failure, and doing the wrong thing. Will I be a fool to give up a hated job in a dead end city to move to a city that I mostly hate, even though that city has friends and opportunities and will likely have my boyfriend along with me too?

And how much of this silence is my wonder about the boyfriend, and the relationship? He is totally serious about moving down, getting a good job, and SUPPORTING me while I pursue my dreams full time. He is committed in many ways but there is no ring; do I even want a ring? Do I secretly believe that a ring would somehow protect from relationship woes and trials and issues? I want an insurance, a guarantee, that the relationship won't fail and that he won't hate me if I don't "make it" and that we'll be okay, always, but such a thing doesn't exist, does it? Vows don't make a difference. But I also, as much as I love him for the offer, can't imagine not working a * real * job, being dependent on someone else. That is...wrong. Too many things, my answer: I don't know.

What is the right thing? How do I let go of my notion that there is always a right thing, aand a wrong thing? I want a divine oracle to tell me definitively the answer but in life there is no such answer.

How did you do it? What did you do? Were you ever faced with a major decision, that meant forsaking a "safe" thing, did you feel like a fool? I finally have to choose a path, you know, instead of just hanging out at the fork, and that path means the other path is closed to me, but doesn't it also mean that new paths open up?

How did you overcome the paralyzing force of fear in your life? And were you happy once you did it?

Wednesday, May 5, 2010

How did May happen all of a sudden?

Grief guys, I don't even know where to begin it has been so long!

Conan's show was AMAZING and AWESOME and SUPER FUN and almost totally worth the almost $200.00 total ticket cost, I only say almost because though we were close up front we were off to the side. I loved it. I'm so happy I got to go. If it weren't pretty much entirely sold out I'd tell you to get tickets if he is coming anywhere near you.

I only have to wear the retainer at night now. Hallelujah. Those several weeks were an unwelcome flash back to my adolescence. On the one hand: not a time anyone wants to revisit. On the other hand: a good reminder to be patient and loving with the person I used to be instead of constantly negative and critical.

Things with my apartment have been a headache for months now, the least of which is the actual foreclosure itself. Sure, I come home to weekly notices posted on my door and it officially went to auction finally this month but the back and forth and the not knowing or having a time line has been awful. Look, I'll move, I'll pack it all up and go in 24 hours if I have to, I would just like to know WHEN. You may wonder why I didn't just do that but it gets complicated as hell and during proceedings like this in my state it is illegal to break my lease, so if I had said "this is bullshit" and tried to pack up and leave I would have been FINED. So I had to stay, stuck, waiting, for days into weeks into months, prisoner to wondering what was going on and where I was going to go. I thought I was handling it fine but the uncertainty really wore on me, it still does, but at least my lease expires soon and in conjunction with the auction I should finally have an idea of what I can do and start looking for a place. Which brings me into:

Relationship. We've officially been dating for two years. I love him. He loves me. We are pretty happy. He is an awesome guy. I. Don't. Want. To. Live. With. Him. I don't I don't I don't. It is hard to explain but living alone is like my one and only great accomplishment as an adult; I've lived alone for 7ish years and supported myself for at least 10, medical debt and student loans and shitty jobs be damned, and my gut says NO to giving that up. Six months ago if the boy had proposed I would have seriously considered living together but now, after time, and this apartment stuff, I've got to say that I don't feel at all the same. I feel sortof oddly rejected by him, and disappointed that things didn't naturally progress forward, and while I am in no way even thinking of leaving him (it is horrible to even type the possibility) I'm also not going to move in with him. So it gets even more complicated, naturally, with the slim potential of a move to a different city on the horizon which would essentially require us moving in together. All this means that, much like the stupid foreclosure stuff, I thought that I was normal and fine for the last couple of months when in reality I've been a total basket case (albeit a well hidden one, thankfully?) and not dealing with my real feelings or even, honestly, beginning to understand what is right for me and what I need to do. I think I'm okay and then BAM April is totally gone and I've managed to gain 20 POUNDS (jebus mother of freaking gob) in a short time period because I'm so busy being "okay" that I'm denying my true self and smothering my feelings under food. And not exercising, though, to be fair, it is just within the last two weeks or so that my neck and shoulder have been cleared for light cardio again.

Much ado about all that above. My therapist is awesome but I haven't been able to see her, for one reason or another, for a long time now and I've been so damn busy just making it through my days and ignoring reality, my true self, my feelings, my gut, that time has passed right on by and I've totally neglected to blog. Perhaps because blogging requires the truth and I've been so busy running from it, and haven't even figured it out AT ALL myself yet.

How have you been?

Thursday, March 11, 2010

The Legally Prohibited From Being On Television Tour!!!!!

Conan O'Brien is bringing his show to the stage with "The Legally Prohibited From Being On Television Tour"

Google it and get tickets!

I am totally amazed that his tour is making it near me so I just bought tickets. They were almost sold out in my area so hurry up!

In blog related news I just noticed that this blog now officially has more posts than my original super popular blog had. For those of you who don't know I had a non-anonymous-ish blog around 2006 that was fairly popular as far as the interweb goes. I had way more readers and that is how I met and made some of the best internet friends ever. I also got attention from local papers and had pretty steady traffic. However, being non-anonymous became a major hassle so I had to do away with it and here, in my very quiet corner of the web, I'm actually pretty happy. It's just funny to look back and see that this much less popular blog (and less updated, less well written, well, less all around) had now surpassed its predecessor in posts.

Now, go see Conan!

Tuesday, March 9, 2010

Odds and Ends and what the Hell was Sandra/her sytlist/your mom thinking?

So, just sitting here waiting for a user to call me back so I can knock out a few of the 15 plus work tickets I have to complete in the next…four days. Yeah. That’ll happen.

I hated Sandra Bullock’s dress choice at the Oscars. There. I said it. I may be the only person on the planet but I abhor it with the heat of a thousand hot burning suns and said hatred is only eclipsed by my absolute revulsion at the lipstick color she chose. WHY? WHO WEARS PINK LIPSTICK…EVER? Ugh. Not that I saw the Oscars, mind you, but I have seen pictures of the dresses and every caption I’ve read about Sandra so far has been “fabulous!”, “luminous!”, “radiant!” and not one said anything to the effect of: She is wearing a hideous metallic lame’ mess which looks reminiscent of the dresses the Barbie knock off dolls had to wear in the 80s and sweet jebus who the hell gave her that lipstick color? WHO? Oh the agony.

And that is that.

I’ve got bits of blogs floating about but I’ll be totally honest here: They ain’t pretty. Either I’m trying to write for an audience (which is the kiss of death for blogs, as far as I’m concerned, because they should be personal) or I’m trying to write for me, which doesn’t work, because I don’t have to clarify things for myself and ergo a regular reader would be lost. So I go around and around alternately filling in too much back story and information or putting none in at all, and then ranting, and using the F word as person, place, thing, action, verb, everything, and it is all a hot mess.

A quick idea of what I’m trying to eloquently express or discuss and failing miserably at:

A certain very popular book that I was quite looking forward to getting that has been all over the blogosphere wound up inspiring much rage on my behalf. I wish the author no ill will and think they are perfectly lovely but REALLY? The book irks me in every viable way. It should, perhaps, be taken more as a memoir than any kind of research project or informational item, and as such the book is then entirely dull and useless to me. You have no idea what I am rambling about and that is fine.

I’ve read two other books and want to compare and contrast them and give thoughtful and useful responses to both yet somehow every time I try to get into it I write pages and pages of jabber and never get my point across. I feel like I need remedial English (and this from someone with a bachelor’s in the subject) to remind me how to outline and craft essays because I’m getting no where.

The two books are I Can Make You Thin by Paul Mckenna and The Gabriel Method by Jon Gabriel. Both books address the mind body connection in regard to obesity and weight. Both books come with relaxation CDs with guided visualization. In summation, book one: interesting book, new angle on issue yet totally useless if you struggle with emotional eating and the author’s voice on the visualization CD creeps me out greatly. Would love CD if he got someone else with a non date-rape voice to do the recording. Second Book: really resonates with reasons for over-eating, emotional obesity and mental obesity. Must read for anyone who struggles with weight. Hate the stupid new age crap (past lives caused me to be fat!) but the rest fills in where the first book is greatly lacking: the mental and emotional reasons for fat. The CD seems okay so far in as much as the author doesn’t have a gravely porno molester voice (see book one), which helps, big time.

Whew, that summary helped me get some of those thoughts out; hopefully I’ll explore them more later.

On that note it is several hours later and after swapping a bunch of broken equipment out at a location I couldn’t carry all the items at once so I left a broken monitor in the lobby of the building to come back for it. In 5 minutes or less someone had swiped it. Sucks to be them: It was totally broken. Makes me wonder if I should have left the broken scanner behind because I think people would have been less likely to swipe it? People are weird.


Thursday, February 25, 2010

What price beauty?

All I need is a pocket protector and I'm set.

In pursuit of attempting to cobble this semi broken and usually complaining thing I call a body together while running its regular maintenance, I noticed that my front teeth had shifted ever so slightly in the 17 years since I've had braces. I have a permanent metal bar cemented to the inside of my bottom teeth which keeps them from crowding or trying to make a break for it, but the top teeth have only had the benefit of a nighttime retainer to hold them in place and my most recent retainer died quite some time ago. Time to find a new orthodontist.

Now, before I tell you about the retainer I need to remind you of several things. I have tenosinvitis in both arms that flares up if I am not careful with my computer use and requires that I wear two large black wrist guards. The guards start mid-forearm and end below my knuckles. If it is winter I can hide them well enough in sleeves but during any other season I get many questions and looks. I've grown accustomed to this. If I can handle driving and sleeping in them I don't care about work, I'm already a computer technician, people expect us to look odd, yes?

I wear glasses to see close. 75% of my work is up close. I chose thick square frame tortoise shell glasses because, why not?

I wear a regular plastic badge for work which I loop pens and an unbent paperclip (great tech tool) on.

I'm very, very overweight right now so the few pairs of pants that I can still barely button fit me high-water style, which I stubbornly refused to believe until I saw my full reflection across a courtyard in the windows and realized that it isn't just noticeable; it's bad.

My skin has never quite liked me and shows this by frequently turning out "blind" blemishes, rather, those large, deep, painful cysts that last for weeks, along with the blackheads I'm still trying to control (more on my progress in another post) and various smaller deals that pop up and hang around for a day or two. I am by no means acne bound and still get compliments on my skin occasionally, which I think is because I'm pale like a porcelain doll and this is very noticeable when you have a huge, painful, red knob growing between your eyebrows. My skin is also so oily that by 8AM I can soak a piece of paper clear. Blemishes and oil and wrinkles? Oh yes.

My hair is almost always pulled back in some kind of bun which I stick pens in. I can never carry enough pens, and besides, my hands are for carrying random bits of electronics and my good screwdriver.

So, as if being clad in high water pants, glasses, a bun, a badge covered in pens, hair adorned with pens, and wrist braces all day at work weren't already sexy enough I went and decided to get a new retainer to add into the mix. The retainer is of the clear plastic variety and makes me spit when I talk and gives me an awesome lisp. Since some teeth need to be gently nudged back in place I get to wear this thing all day, every day, for 8 weeks, except for when I eat or drink.

It is odd how certain things humiliate me or make me fear people will notice me whereas others don't even phase me. I usually give the above items little passing thought except when I add something new in the mix, like the retainer. I'd currently put my appearance somewhere just above Quasimodo, save for the stiffness in my neck and shoulders which limits my movement, but far far below that of, say, a supermodel. Or a regular model. Or even someone who owns clothes that fit. I'm shy one pocket protector from being the nerdiest mess in this hemisphere.

On the bright side, maybe, I can't chew my cuticles at all with the retainer in (I'd cut back 90% but some still sneaks in) and my teeth and jaw promise to ache for weeks, so I'll be on a liquid diet. Maybe I'll lose some weight and my nails will look even better! I hope.

Just hope nothing else needs upkeep in the meantime. I'm already quite a sight.

quick mention if you care:

My neck and shoulder are very yucky, always with the pain, so excuse major misspellings and typos for the time being. I am going to therapeutic massage after the trigger point injections healed and it is helping but JEBUS I am SORE. My original neck injury from years ago is apparently a mass of scar tissue and the new neck injury is made worse by the fact that my shoulder injury is far more extensive than they realized. In between regular doctor, physiatrist, chiropractor, light physical therapy, and now massage therapy I also have an at home electric muscle stim (look it up) thing I have to use and major pain meds and I still wake up every morning feeling like a football team used my neck and back for field practice.

Thursday, January 28, 2010


Trigger point injections are apparently this thing where they numb the area where your muscles won't stop spasming/knotting up (for me this is my neck and shoulder) and then jab big nasty needles in and inject some substance (it begins with a C, I think, but the pain of the procedure stopped my brain from recording this to memory) into the muscles to break them up and make them relax.

I had this done Tuesday.

It hurt.

When the numbness wore off it HURT.

Wednesday I felt like I'd had, no exaggeration, 30 flu shots in my neck and shoulder. The pain was amusing in that I couldn't believe that it possibly could hurt that much, and every 30 seconds or so it was as though my brain were rediscovering said pain and being utterly and totally surprised. Brain: "WOW! Where did that come from?" Me: "The hands of something truly evil, I believe" Brain: "Unbelievable! I'm laughing at the agony! This is hilarious in its intensity" Me: "I know". And so on. All day long.

Today the pain is far less shockingly entertaining, more dull throbbing ache that makes moving my head all but agonizing. I had this done because I'm still not healing from the fun fall I took at work in early December. I suspect that it actually doesn't help with the original problem. Rather, it causes a new pain so awful that once the new pain dies down you are happy to only have to suffer the old pain. We shall see. In the meantime I'm mostly out of commission, the old pain was nasty and the new pain is retched and I'm fairly crippled and hurty. I fear the permanent scowl my face wears will up my need for botox by several years. Hence the lack of blogging, typing, sitting, breathing, most anything is painful and when things are painful suddenly my motivation to do them, however much I like them, drops exponentially. Hopefully I'll be in less pain soon, and able to blog more actively. Until then send opiate based thoughts my way.


Saturday, January 9, 2010


Always and forever.

Thursday, January 7, 2010

Foreclosed Again, Naturally

Last year the owner of the condo I rented for 5 years got foreclosed on. I was a model tenant, I never once paid my rent late, I kept the unit in immaculate condition and that place was cleaner the day I moved out then the day I moved in. (For those of you who have been for me for awhile you know that cleanliness took me awhile to master, I learned that mold grows in cups of water left for days as well as loads of clean laundry forgotten in washing machines. I have since learned much.)

You can read about it in April 2009 (links on the right).

I’d been handed a pink slip at work (which was later rescinded), I am perpetually broke thanks to student loans and medical debt, and things were looking grim when luck struck and the condo next door to me opened up. It is exactly the same, just a backwards or mirror image of my original one. Better yet it has new paint, carpets, linoleum, and appliances PLUS the rent is cheaper.

I struggled with the decision to take it because I was really, really ready for a change in my life and wanted something with more light and maybe a backyard but my finances wouldn’t allow for such a thing and really, how easy is it to move next door? To the same place, just mirror image? I just put everything as it was and it only took a day. I did eventually reverse the living room because coming home to my bassakwards apartment confuses the dickens out of me daily. Imagine living in your home for five years. Now imagine flipping it exactly reversed and coming home to that one day. It really messes with your relative sense of calm.

Another bonus to taking this condo was that the owners live only a few hours away, so they are real, and I was told that I need not worry about foreclosure because they owned the condo outright. Yay! Security!

Yay! Lies! You know where this is going. You know what my luck is.

That day before New Years Eve I came home to default notices totally papering the entire door. The people who posted them had mangled my Christmas wreathe a bit and one of the pinecones was laying all sad on the floor. I just stood there and laughed.

And laughed.

And laughed.

Then called my boyfriend.

And my regular friends.

And one friend took me to a “Congratulations you’re being forcefully evicted due to no fault of your own in less than a year!” dinner where I got good and plowed on a work night.

Luckily this time I am far more prepared for this process having had ample experience and unlike last time I don’t have a pink slip in hand. There is even a good chance that my job will hold until June, and, unlike last time, I get a whole 60 days to figure out where to go since they aren’t in full foreclosure yet, just default. Wooo! I totally have this handled.

I do find it amusing that this is time number two, in under a year, on a condo that was supposedly owned outright, that I’m being rendered homeless, and I’m really not upset. My married friends came home to straight orange eviction notices in October on their condo due to the owner going into foreclosure and they had an 11 month old and 24 hours to vacate. My situation is hardly like that. (The friends wound up taking a place in the same complex just upstairs, much like I did, because it was close and seriously? 24 hours? With a BABY? JEBUS).

If I continue to rent condos owned by individuals I continue to run this risk. I’ve done the major apartment complex thing and I don’t want to do it again. Part of the reason I’ve stayed put so long is that I’m in a great location, I’m near a lovely “lake” (pond) where I can take walks if the drug dealers aren’t out in full force, I have enclosed underground parking, and a washer and dryer in my unit. It I move to an apartment complex I get a slew of lousy neighbors, an exposed parking space, and no walking trails or nice central locations.

I can’t afford to rent a house. I will not live with a room mate ever, ever again. I can’t afford to buy a house. The boyfriend has offered to move in together but unless that is like, the absolute only option, I won’t do it: I don’t want to live together before I’m married. I know, I know, spending every other night together is practically living together etc. but my reasoning is a topic for a whole ‘nother blog post entirely.

So, I’ve got to figure this out. At least this time I’ve got 60 days to figure it out. And on the bright side, if I do come home to straight orange eviction notices, there is some law that says I get 1500 bucks to move. My married couple friends got it and my current leasing agent mentioned it. So if I do have to scramble to move for some reason I’ll have the funding to do it, though I don’t see that happening because I know that foreclosure will start March 1(unless the owners pull it out of default, which won’t happen) and I have plenty of time to find a nice van and a space down by the river before then.

How is your new year shaping up?

Wednesday, January 6, 2010

Part Eight: Er, Conclusion

Part eight, er, conclusion to my seven part series: “Things I’ve Learned About Hosting a Holiday Get Together”.

There you have it, holiday hosting tips that I hope will help you with your next gathering. If you do have one please invite me, I promise to actually show up on time (6 means 7!) bring whatever dish I said I would, dress well, and not set anything on fire. I won’t even go through your medicine cabinet because really? Who cares? I just want to be invited someplace where I don’t have to do all the work.

Or, alternatively, can someone reccomend a city I can move to where the people aren't idiots? Because I am so ready.

Monday, January 4, 2010

Part Seven: Invitations

Part seven in my seven part series: “Things I’ve Learned About Hosting a Holiday Get Together”.


People stopped responding to paper invitations ages ago. They also don’t read emails, evites, text messages, or actively listen when you talk to them in person or on the phone. If, for some totally incomprehensible reason, you decide you want to host guests in your home, then you are practically forced to stalk them outside their homes, tranq ‘em, tag ‘em, and drag ‘em in yourself.

Setting a specific RSVP date does not matter. See Guests.

The only bit I can offer is this: If someone sees fit to invite you to something, for the sake of all that is holy RSVP you bastard! It doesn’t matter yes or no, just do it! And then follow up your answer!

If you say no don’t go!

If you say yes then make every effort and actually go!

Be polite!

Bring back common social courtesy!

Be the change you want to see in people!

Don’t be an ass and certainly don’t ask if you can bring strangers that the party host does not know!


Sunday, January 3, 2010

Part Six: Smoking

Before we get to the business of part six I would like to take a moment to do some housekeeping and address the very thoughtful comments I have been getting: THANK YOU! I was starting to worry that perhaps it was just me and I can't throw a decent party to save my life but now I know, somewhere, someplace, people are having successful and joyous get togethers that don't involve inconsiderate guests. Which brings me to my next point: Clearly I need to find new friends. Sigh. The story of my life.

Part six in my seven part series: “Things I’ve Learned About Hosting a Holiday Get Together”.


Assume ahead of time that some people smoke cigarettes. It doesn’t matter if you’ve known these people your whole life, you will be surprised. Remind them to take it outside. If you’re feeling extra festive, dye some kitty litter red and green and pour it into a cheap (non-flammable) bowl so that you don’t get to clean empty beer containers filled with butts off of your deck or lawn. Bonus for not having guests put out cigarettes on your siding or other available surfaces.

This is the shortest bit of advice I’ve picked up, and probably some of the best. I’ve never heard Martha Stewart mention this, but then again, that woman is a powerhouse and probably has an entire book dedicated to kilning your own natural clay ashtrays which are festively and intricately hand gold leafed, and how to grow heirloom tobacco that she then rolls in home pressed paper rendered from Egyptian papyrus.

Saturday, January 2, 2010

Part Five: Attire

Part five in my seven part series: “Things I’ve Learned About Hosting a Holiday Get Together”.


Be happy if people don’t show up with visible pant holes in the crotch area, animal hair caked t-shirts and muddy shoes. Have fun getting yourself ready if you have time but don’t go all out, your false eyelashes will melt from oven heat while you slave in the kitchen and your manicure will dematerialize as you wash wine glasses. Wear something cute and all, but comfortable and serviceable: You’ll have to move quickly when a guest moves a candle on the sink to an entirely new location and sets fire to your hand towels.

Not sure what to wear if you are a guest? Unless you’re meeting the queen of England (disregard Slutty Cyrus, who decided a gown cut to her navel and showing off the jailbait tittays was the way to go) then clean jeans, a nice shirt or sweater, and clean shoes always works. Wear presentable socks too, many people demand that you remove your shoes before walking on their carpet these days.

Every holiday season advertisers and the TV peoples start in on the cocktail or holiday dress barrage. I want to meet someone who has had the occasion to both buy and appropriately wear a cocktail dress. I don’t think such a thing exists. I have never been invited to or even heard of a holiday soiree where a cocktail dress was required or appropriate. The cocktail dress is a lie manufactured to make women doubt our bodies in bikini off season and to stimulate the economy by making women believe that $400.00 for 1/8th yard of black satin is not only reasonable but necessary. And oh how I long to not only own one but have a place to actually wear it to someday.

Friday, January 1, 2010

Part Four: Guests

Part four in my seven part series: “Things I’ve Learned About Hosting a Holiday Get Together”.


Guests lie.

They are unreliable, sneaky, suddenly need to leave town for reasons unknown, or worse, have family/friends/religious recruiters in town that they would like to bring along. A definite RSVP is still a shaky maybe at best. Guests who don’t RSVP at all are as likely to show as those that do.

At least half of your guests will ask to bring someone else; a sister, a cousin, their ex (seriously), several friends that you don’t know visiting from out of town (Every. Damn. Year. And you think I would learn not to invite this person), your ex, a priest and a rabbi, your boss, their boss, their boss’ dog, and your mom. I don’t know how to get around this one yet. Beyond people I know and their significant others I think it is weird to invite your family or friends to someone else’s party. Yet it happens, always, every time. Is there a way to be both holiday festive and inclusive while at the same time telling people that their deadbeat friends who didn’t even bring a snack size bag of chips between them are not invited? Do my friends not think that the guests that will already be there are enough? I’ve signed up to open my home to guests that I know, which is hard enough already, now you are making me entertain strangers and weirdoes? Thanks. Note to self: Your invite gets lost in mail next year as I drink champagne in front of my Christmas tree alone and suddenly I’m richer and happier…which fewer carpet stains.