not sure it's allergies or the common cold, but i'm about to hop on WebMD and self diagnose myself with something. (H1N1? Self Pity?)
i feel like garbage. but i have a little arsenal of drugs that i'm hoping will help.
#1 - WAL-BORN
i actually sort of swear by these little vitamin packed effervescent wonders. maybe if i took them earlier i wouldn't feel like death now.
#2 - WAL-ITIN D
this is the serious stuff. the stuff that's technically over the counter, but it's kept behind the counter and you have to ask the pharmacist for it. and then the pharmacist makes you swear on a bible that you're not going home to cook meth with your new pseudoephedrine product.
but good lord does it work! jim asked me why i didn't just buy DayQuil. and i asked him if DayQuil has ever made him feel even slightly better? also, wouldn't he like for us to make a little extra cash by cooking meth on weekends?
#3 - Tylenol Simply Sleep
i was tossing and turning last night. my nose was stuffy then runny then sort of stuffy and runny...it wasn't pretty. i need to sleep tonight. also, i need to come down from the meth high somehow.
i have been sort of M.I.A. for the past couple weeks. i haven't been posting to my blog or reading other people's blogs. SORRY.
work has kept me insanely busy. and just so you know what i mean when i say, "insanely busy"...
i was so busy on thursday that i stopped drinking liquids because i literally did not have time to use the bathroom.
i was so busy writing emails, responding to emails, making phone calls, preparing PowerPoints, getting on and off airplanes, and NOT sleeping last week that i freaking lost my mind and burst into tears in the middle of the Denver airport on Friday morning. looking back now...the whole thing was sort of amusing. i was like a bona fide crazy person...crying into some napkins i grabbed from a fast food counter and gasping for air inbetween sobs while i tried to explain to Jim (over the phone) why life was SO DAMN HARD.
so yeah...i have friends with b days and friends cookin' babies, and friend's with parents going into surgery and i'm sort of a bad friend because i can't reach out as much as i'd like. but i'm thinking about all of you! promise! don't hate me!
because it makes me really emotional...and because i have a hard time forming good sentences when i'm emotional...i'm going to let keith olbermann say what i wish i could say about tuesday's decision in maine.
{this video was made after the passage of prop 8 in california}
I recently discovered a new route to work that cuts my commute time by at least 20 minutes. This is good news because…yay for an extra 20 minutes of sleep! This is also sort of embarrassing news to admit because uhhhhh… I’ve lived in my apartment for almost a year and I just figured this out? (Sort of reminds me of when I lived in Chicago and took two El trains to work for a year before discovering there was one bus that practically provided door-to-door service from my apartment to my office.)
Anyway. New route. It’s pretty awesome. I would go so far as to say that it’s totally awesome when the F train is working and I don’t have to cut back into Brooklyn to get to Manhattan. The only problem with it is that I have to walk through a neighborhood where for some reason, large groups of men like to gather on the corner at 8:00 am to catcall women who pass by.
Walking past these guys and hearing comments like…
“SEXXXXY!”
“Lookin’ good, mama.”
“Can I get some of that?”
“Lovin’ that hair.”
“Give me a smile.”
“Mmmmmmm.”
“So sweet.”
“Nicccce.”
Or really anything along those lines…
is like walking a gauntlet of humiliation. It’s by far the worst part of my day.
These things don’t make women feel good. Or at least they don’t make me feel good. I don’t get on the subway and smile because the guys on the corner thinks my ass looks tight today. I don’t feel better about myself because some dude thinks that I, “walk like a lioness” (yep, I’ve heard it). Honestly…the whole thing makes me feel shameful. And it sort of makes me want to wear a burka. Or at the very least…my ugly winter coat.
And the thing is…these guys don’t think I’m pretty. They see something resembling a female form approach and this stuff just starts spewing out of their mouths. Why? Because they are men and they can and because I’m a chick alone on my way to work and what am I going to do about it?
What am I going to do about it? I’m looking into opportunities to teleport to work. Let me know if you think this is possible…
i don't want to complain so i'm not going to complain. remember that -- this post is not me complaining. promise. it's just me telling about my insane day yesterday...
background: i was away all week at a customer sales rally in virginia. i was supposed to fly home to NYC on thursday afternoon.
yesterday:
7:00 am-- wake up with a hangover. (there was some karaoke with the customer on wednesday night and i'm sorry, if there's an opportunity to karaoke, i'm going to karaoke. and if i'm going to karaoke, i'm going to drink.)
10:00 am-- drive large vehicle down steep mountain in the rain. cry about it because it's scary.
12:30 pm-- arrive early for my 2:25 flight, but it's all good because a) i didn't drive off the rainy foggy mountain, b) i found a table near a power outlet, and c) free WiFi!
1:30 pm-- flight delayed till 2:55
2:00 pm-- flight delayed till 3:30
2:30 pm-- flight delayed till 3:40
3:00 pm-- flight delayed till 5:30
3:15 pm-- flight delayed till 6:00
3:30 pm-- pace up and down terminal A
4:30 pm-- flight delayed till 6:30
5:00 pm-- call jim to complain about it.
5:30 pm-- flight canceled.
5:35 pm-- stand in line at customer service while on the phone with customer service to get rebooked ASAP.
5:45 pm-- woman on the phone rebooks me for a flight the next day. i stand in line anyway for a hotel voucher.
5:50 pm-- US Airways tells first woman in line that no one will be getting hotel vouchers.
5:51 pm-- it is becoming clear to the Richmond US Airways representatives that it is a very bad idea to piss off a group of New Yorkers who just want to go home. there is some yelling. (i don't yell, but i watch.)
5:52 pm-- SOMEONE CALLS THE COPS.
5:55 pm-- Cops come. we all get hotel vouchers. not even the cops want to mess with a group of angry New Yorkers.
6:30 pm-- Walk up to my hotel room, open door. the TV is on and blaring and the rooms reeks of cigarettes. someone in there? i have visions of scary men hiding in the closet waiting to rape me. i go back to the lobby to ask for another room.
6:40 pm-- In second room. order pizza and buffalo kickers. they forgot the hot sauce. damn.
7:00 pm-- Watching TV and doing some emails. The TV suddenly turns off. SMOKE starts pouring out of the top of the TV. smell of burning plastic is overwhelming. i gather my stuff and run to the lobby.
7:10 pm-- In third hotel room. wondering if i still have a valid prescription for prozac...
i was supposed to take the red eye from San Francisco to NYC last night, but my boss and i busted ass and pointed so powerfully with our PowerPoints that we were able to make an earlier flight. this is good news because it means i landed at JFK at midnight last night and not at 8am this morning. this is also sad news because it means my trip was shortened and i didn't get to spend any time with Amy or Jamie. (not sure how, but i have always managed to fit play time with these two into my business trips to San Francisco. this time i was expected to like, you know, work. THE NERVE.)
i've been so busy recently that it's starting to get to me. for example, i caught myself staring out the window next to my desk today, picking my bottom lip, and slowly rocking back and forth while whispering gibberish and chewing on my hair. not sure how long i was doing that... when i snapped out of it, i composed a nice little email to our travel agent asking to book me on yet ANOTHER FLIGHT and i swear as i typed, i developed this weird, violent twitch in my eyeball. know what else? i DREAM in PowerPoint.
you know what i really want right now? i want to have a nice quiet dinner with jim. i want to sit on the couch and watch season 2 disc 4 of Mad Men straight through without getting up off the couch even once. i want to sit in the sun with a floppy hat and read 10 fashion magazines and my next book club book. i want to forget about the evils of creating org charts in PowerPoint and i want to be completely silent for a good three hours straight.
i got me a bad case of first-world problems, am i right? before you go thinking that i'm a huge brat you should know that i know that not having time to be a disgusting sloth-like creature in front of the television is not a real problem and i actually really love my job. but seriously y'all...I DREAM IN POWERPOINT.
it's been the most ridiculously rainy month ever. i need to whine about it, OK? (in an attempt to be less bratty, i will sandwich my complaints between good things that are happening right now.)
boo. it's freakin' raining AGAIN
yay. i have timed it so i exit my building's front gate at the exact moment the bus pulls up for two mornings in a row this week.
boo. there was a big leak in the bus roof this morning so even though i was under shelter, it was still raining on my head.
yay. we set a wedding date! june 19, 2010! has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?
boo. the rain has stretched out my little black leather flats so now i have to do this weird move where i spread out my toes and curl them and shuffle my feet to keep them on.
yay. started the second disc of the fourth season of Weeds. loves it.
boo. the "toe spread and curl" maneuver doesn't always work. yesterday i stepped out of my shoe completely and my bare foot touched the subway station floor. *pukes in mouth*
yay. we booked The Montauk Club in Park Slope, Brooklyn for our wedding reception!
boo. i totally ate a whole package of peanut butter cookies last night while i was watching Weeds. had to.
yay. i totally ate a whole package of peanut butter cookies last night and they were AWESOME!
I came home from work on Friday and made a beeline for the couch where I assumed a horizontal position and quickly started whining because I had lost my cell phone. There was flailing and pouting and maybe one half-assed attempt to feel for the phone behind the couch cushions. But mostly there was a lot of crying, “MY PHONE IS GONE! AND I’M HUNGRY! AND THE FOOD IS TOO FAR AWAY!”
Woe is me!
Jim was so patient with me. He just kissed my forehead and let the crazy run its course. Then he pulled back one of the couch cushions, uncovering my cell phone.
My hero!
When the Cell Phone Crisis of 2009 was over we went to dinner. (Someplace close so I could eat RIGHT AWAY.)
When we came home, Jim let me open a little present that he was going to save for our one year anniversary on June 8.
A little pea necklace! Cute, right?
Sometimes I feel guilty that Jim has to bear the brunt of all my crazy. It’s just that when I see him I know I’m home and I can finally just be me. And sometimes being me = whining on the couch. (Sorry, Jim. I only let you see me like that because I know you’ll love me no matter what.)
it was stressful for a number of reasons and then on top of all those reasons, i accidentally poured coffee all over my ipod. i was hoping it would survive such a trauma (kind of like my laptop turned out ok when i dropped it on the hardwood floor in mintel's front lobby), but alas, he's dunzo.
also, there was actual poop on one of the seats in my subway car tonight. and usually when i see poop on the subway (or when new york is being mean to me in general), i blare Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now by The Smiths and i feel a little bit better. but no ipod = no Smiths = no one understands me = poop smells bad.
I was in such a sad state of inactivity over the long weekend that when I finally ventured out into the world on Tuesday, my legs actually hurt at the end of the day. Because I used them.
After two full days of lying on the couch Jim tried to get me out of the house, but I wasn’t having it. He even suggested we go to Re-Pop, a super cute vintage shop that’s so close it’s practically attached to our apartment building, and I still wouldn’t budge from my horizontal position on the couch. And if you know me, you know vintage shops are probably my most favorite things in the whole wide world so I was definitely in a funk.
Something I’ve learned about myself recently: If i’m not careful, if I’m not actively pursuing happiness every single day of my life, then it’s just so easy to get stuck in the doldrums. If I’m not paying attention, I’ll just sort of allow myself to lounge around the apartment and stare hatefully at my gorgeous view of New York City. Ohhh you should see me glare at the island of Manhattan. I think about buses that are behind schedule and long lines at the bodega, Amazonian women falling on top of me, blind men hitting me with their walking sticks, slow elevators, crowded sidewalks, long commutes, Scientology stress tests, 25 registers at Whole Foods, no seats on the train, blah, blah, bullshit, bullshit, crap, and I glare, and I glare, and I shake my fist at the Empire State Building and I can't see her from my couch, but if I could, I swear I'd give the Statue of Liberty the finger.
It’s ridiculous really. It’s INSANE. And I know that. And now I know I have to remind myself every day of all the wonderful things I have (a wonderfully supportive boyfriend, a job I love, an ass that just won’t quit, every one of Jodi Picoult’s novels in paperback, a brother who calls me drunk from happy hour in Sweden, sweet potato french fries in the freezer, a super human ability to run in high heels, a large collection of necklaces from Forever 21…you know, the good stuff) or else I'm doomed to a life lived on a couch in a bougie Brooklyn apartment. And that's a sad, scary thought, am I right?
But don't get all, "Michaela's off her meds!" on me, because I think we all get stuck in the Doldrums sometimes. It was even Milo’s (from The Phantom Tollbooth) very first stop in the Kingdom of Wisdom. But he got out! And I have too.
All the colors had returned to their original brightness, and as they raced along the road Milo continued to think of all sorts of things; of the many detours and wrong turns that were so easy to take, of how fine it was to be moving along, and, most of all, how much could be accomplished with just a little thought. -- The Phantom Tollbooth
So I’m terrified of the dentist, right? If you know me at all, you know that I need large amounts of Valium to even think about picking up the phone and making a dentists appointment. And since I don’t know any drug dealers and my primary care physician frowns on substance abuse, I can never get my hands on enough Valium to actually make a dentist appointment. I’m telling you this in hopes that you might be a little understanding when you hear that it’s been about 7 years since my last dental cleaning.
On Monday I noticed some sensitivity in my left front tooth. As the day went on, the sensitivity increased so much that even sipping water was painful. Of course I started panicking because after my many years of neglect, who knows what’s going on in my mouth. I finally worked up enough courage to inspect the situation, and when I saw a tiny black speck on the side of my sensitive tooth, I immediately assumed I needed a root canal and started crying. Then I ignored the situation, hoping it would all just go away.
When I woke up on Tuesday, the pain was still there. The thought of seeing a dentist was terrifying, but I started to think that maybe the horrendous and constant anxiety I was feeling could be worse so I made an appointment for that afternoon. Then I sat at my desk and cried and just generally lost my shit until it was time to go. It was tons of fun.
When I got to the dentist’s building, I was greeted by a large Jamaican doorman. He asked me who I was there to see and after I told him “the dentist on floor 2” he joked, “but I am your dentist, miss” and then I started to cry. I think I may have hurt his feelings.
I started bawling when I met the real dentist because that’s what I do. When he asked what possibly could have happened to me to make me so scared, I managed to spit out something about Steve Martin and Little Shop of Horrors and my childhood dentist who accidentally filled my brother’s tooth when he was really supposed to extract the tooth and he did it wearing eyeliner and a dress. The doc accepted this as an adequate reason to be afraid.
I continued to cry as I told the dentist all about my cavity, a cavity I could see because it looked like a little piece of pepper on the side of my tooth. The doctor was surprisingly patient with me considering I was having a bona fide meltdown right in front of him.
He explained everything he did as he was doing it, “I’m just going to look. See? I have nothing in my hands. I just want to take a look”. And the looking wasn’t all that bad, but I was all freaked out when he said he’d need to x-ray the tooth and so I cried some more.
The dentist came back in the room with my developed x-rays and picked something up. “This is just air. I’m just going to blow some air on your tooth”. And he did and I cried. And then he said, “There’s nothing there. That tiny black speck that looked like a little piece of pepper? That was a little piece of pepper.”
I was so happy that the “pain” in my front tooth went away. I wanted to jump up from the chair and escape, but I was so brave, I stayed right where I was and let the dentist clean my teeth which, apparently, are in great shape considering all those visits I skipped. Sure, I have like 5 cavities, but they’re all in the back of my mouth, not the front, and for some reason that seems less scary.
when i got home Tuesday night, Jim showed me this video (do people watch videos when i post them? i feel like the answer is no, but you should really watch this one because it shows a 7 year old who's stoned on whatever drugs his dentist gave him and stoned 7 year olds are always funny):
last night i had dinner at jean georges with 8 members of the new york city sigma kappa alumni association. meeting new snaky k's was tons of fun! but i miss my sisters in the mystic bond, in the windy city.
so this, my friends, is a long distance dedication from DJ MiMo in new york, to my bestest friends in chicago.
I’m usually quite cheery in the workplace, but today? Today I screamed, “FUCK” and “JESUS CHRIST” and did a whole lot of holding my face with my hands while whispering, “I will kill someone” and then hyperventilating. It was fun!
Do you ever stress about something for an extended period of time and then hit a wall where you feel all weird and dizzy and dead inside and the only thing you can do is stare at your keyboard and pick at your bottom lip and when someone interrupts all your staring and picking to ask, “how are you?” it hurts your brain in a mega way?
I would say that I can’t wait to go home and pour myself a 24 oz glass of wine (because that’s totally what I’m going to do), but that might seem like work is driving me to drink and I’m drinking to change my feelings or to just forget my feelings altogether and then someone would call me an alcoholic which is ridiculous because everyone knows that if I’m going to abuse myself I’m totally going to do it with starvation not booze. Duh.
Anyway, I can’t wait to go home, order some Thai, drink a glass of wine, and On Demand some A&E Intervention. There’s just something so comforting about watching someone else hit rock bottom.
so we moved on sunday in the pouring rain. the movers came to my apartment first where they quickly grabbed my bed and boxes and took off before i had a chance to inspect their doings. they left my air conditioner and a bunch of other stuff that i was hoping to you know, move. i didn't have much choice but to abandon the AC and scoop everything else into a shopping bag. i hopped on the subway and rode down to brooklyn while the movers were at jim's.
when i got off the subway and above ground in brooklyn my paper shopping bag (filled to the brim with vintage china plates) quickly became saturated with rain water and broke. kicking my umbrella to the curb, i walked the quarter mile to my new apartment juggling a one million pound plastic bag (filled with photo albums) on my left arm and china plates in both hands. on the way i stopped on a corner (in the pouring rain, but i was already soaked anyway) to call jim and let him know just how unfair my life really is.
i wasn't sure the doorman would let me in to such a bougie building looking like a drowned homeless woman with great taste in plates, but he did. of course after i made it inside the lobby i had to call jim to tell him that the Super only left us one set of keys which i thought was "totally unacceptable".
when i finally got into the unit, the place was dirty. like...there was actual dirt on the floor. i shit you not, someone dropped top soil in the kitchen and never picked it up. i immediately called jim to tell him that "everything's filthy. the bath tub is disgusting. there are little hairs on the toilet". i think the little hairs are actually from a pet because they're everywhere. they're in the fruit and veg crisper drawer in the fridge, they're EVERYWHERE. although i suppose that means nothing. i suppose the little hairs could just be what we all think of when we hear "little hairs", you know...PUBES. i'd rather not think on it.
after all my bitchy phone calls to jim that day, i can't believe he actually showed up to move in with me, but he did so phew!
when the movers made it to the new place they called me to come down and meet them in the lobby. when i got down there, all four movers were in a screaming match with some tall blond woman in a fur coat who wanted to know what "business they had being in the building?" as soon as the chick saw me she must have realized that the guys were hired by the wet girl because she left. on the elevator ride back up to my unit, the movers were going on and on about how that woman was suspicious of them because or their color. i stood there very quietly, feeling very white.
the movers went back down to the truck. they called me 5 minutes later to say that a rottweiler, the building's garage guard dog, was a attacking them and could i please do something about it? i sent jim down there and his whiteness lulled the dog into a peaceful slumber. problem solved.
about one million hours after the day started, the movers left. i was excited to be home and with jim, but extremely stressed out. the only solution? enormous amounts of pizza (jim ordered my favorite toppings despite my inability to hold my shit together for 10 minutes all day) eaten in front of The Princess Bride.
moral of the story? love and pizza make everything better at the end of the day. oh and i am never moving again. not ever.
I have decided that I need to find more things about this city to love. Because I live here now. And although New York is not Chicago, and although I don't have oodles of friends here [yet!], this city is my home.
I spent a good chunk of the summer being angry with New York. I complained about the filth and the crazies and the subways and pretty much everything. Looking back I can safely say that that was a really BAD "let's get adjusted to a new place" strategy. Every complaint and every tear did nothing but reinforce the idea that New York is EVIL in my mind. And that's not fair. It's not New York's fault that I chose to weep on the couch instead of embracing all the good stuff she has to offer.
So feel free to drag me off the couch to do things! I think my Zoloft has started to kick in! It's safe to be around me again! MUAHHAHA IAMCRAZZZZYYYYY!!!!
Anyway. Here is a random and in-no-particular-order list of things I’d like to see, eat, and do in NYC before the end of the year (see how proactive i'm being?):
1. Shake Shack. A favorite lunch spot among my co-workers, the line here can be over an hour long. I hear the burgers and milkshakes are worth the wait, but I have yet to stand in line. Before I do, I’ll be sure to check out my wait time on the live “shake cam”.
2. The Museum of Modern Art, or as it’s more commonly referred to, MoMA. Yeah, I really haven’t been yet.
A couple years ago I went through a pretty bad breakup. And by “pretty bad” I mean I spent the better part of 2007 walking around feeling like a shell of a human being. The only thing I could eat without wanting to immediately hurl was plain oatmeal mixed with a pinch of splenda. I ate so much oatmeal at the beginning of that breakup that I got pretty sick of it and switched to boxes of cookies and gallons of ice cream after a couple months. I'm better now, obv, but how bullshit is this...
I had plain oatmeal for the first time in over a year today and this awful sense of sadness overcame me with the first bite. It tasted just like my breakup! How rude is it that this dumper dude 1) made me cry and 2) ruined a great snack? I'm pissed.
