Birthday Week - Day Two

Okay. When we left off, I was going to bed at 5:30 in the AM. THANKS STEPH! Troublemaker.

I sent Vader an email at about 5:15 saying that I was just going to bed now and she could feel free to show up late for Coney Island. Then went to sleep. Well, Yahoo Mail doesn't work the time stamp so well and my phone rang at 9:30 or so. And I cried a little and didn't bother to get it because I think I left the cordless in the bathroom. And I tried to get back to sleep but wasn't so good at it. I finally gave up when Pimp Daddy called around 10:45 to say he was running a bit late or on his way or something. Troublemakers with phones. The whole lot of them.

Anyway. Then Steph calls a little after 11 to tell me they're halfway ready and to see what the departure status is. So I jump in the shower. And Vader arrives right at 11:16 because she's awesome with the promptness and all. So she got to see me answer the door in a towel. Because I am class-ay! Then Pimp Daddy arrived and Vader answered the door (like a good hostess helper) so I could dress before he walked in. Eventually Muffy & Steph joined in and our tired little group headed off to Coney Island.

We had perfect weather. Sunny and warm but with nice breezes and all so we didn't cry from heat or anything. We wandered the boardwalk a little and got Vader a Coney Island t-shirt to change into. Then we headed for Nathan's to get some dogs and cheese fries and drinks. And it was awesome. On the way we got to watch a cute topless boy at the batting cages. Woo. Oh, and we got to check out (but not partake in) Shoot the Freak. Because what's more fun than shooting paint guns at some poor guy dressed in heavy black armor running around a vacant lot? Nothing.

Then it was off to Keyspan Stadium so Muffy & Steph could purchase Cyclones hats and we could cringe every time someone set of the door bell. It was a horrible, horrible noise. The folks who work there should get some kind of workers comp for the damage being done to their eardrums. Poor things. I looked for a t-shirt or hoodie I could love and take home, but alas. Nothing for me.

We did catch a bit of a girls softball game at the little league field nearby. Carmine vs. Our Ladies of Solace. We were rooting for Solace but they didn't seem to be having the greatest of games. Poor things.

A nice long walk down the pier proved uneventful. No one got stuck in the head with a fishhook so hurray! And more boardwalk time while Puerto Rico and African festivities were going on. A moment or two for more topless boy batting cage ogling. Then Steph made us do the race cars. And treated. Which was very, very nice of him. I was having a grand old time until I got stuck behind a very slow girl who couldn't even stay off to the side. Alas.

Then I finally got to play Skee Ball. And it was a Birthday Week Miracle. I LOVE Skee Ball and the machine I picked (#10) happened to be magical. Instead of giving 1 ticket for 90, 150, 200 and so on it would give anywhere from 1 to 4 tickets. And it would often start me at 10 or 20 points rather than 0. I got a nice long run on that puppy before some arcade guy caught on (apparently he didn't feel my big pile o' tickets matched my mad skills even though I'm quite good) and moved me to another machine so he could fix #10. Bad man. Everyone had a bit of a run at Skee Ball but none of them are true devotees so they wondered off to play Ms. PacMan, shoot zombies and box with machines. Good times for all and about 300 tickets amassed. * Woo. So then it was off for funnel cakes (premade and not done right in front of you on the fryer alas) and sitting time. Then we made an AWESOME t-shirt with the five of us; Vader, Pimp Daddy, Muffy, Steph and the birthday girl! It will debut on Saturday and people will fall to their knees in praise of this great shirt.

And after buying this ridiculous shirt we felt we were ready to spend our tickets. It took like 20 minutes to end up with some bead kits to make an I *heart* Eds Shirt necklace and an Amanda bracelet, some mini paper playing cards, two I *heart* you bracelets that we thought were shoelaces, a smiley bubble necklace and a plastic fly. Oh yeah. We go for the quality.

After that it was on to the Wonder Wheel. Woo. We opted for the swinging car. I think I sorta forced everyone into it by saying the stationary car was for pussies. Because I'm mature like that. Actually, I'm five. And we all learned this in line for the Wonder Wheel. Right past the wheel is a ride called the Scooter. And from our place in line you could see signs saying Scooter. But there were trash cans in front of the sign. So it read COOTER. And I kinda lost it. I had to have a picture of it. And then I started laughing hysterically. Because. Well. COOTER. It was awesome. And I'm hardly the only dirty one. We were debating where in the cage to sit, front or back, and Pimp Daddy got the giggles after too much of "Do you like the front?" "Who prefers it in the back?" "I don't care; front, back, whatever." So I'm not alone in my five year old dirty child mind.

Anyway. We make it onto the Wonder Wheel. And the Wonder Wheel cage with two people in it does not slide back and forth nearly as much as it does with FIVE people in it. And then, when Steph decides to start swinging it... well, it slides a lot more then, oddly enough. Muffy and I became big scaredy cats and at some point threatened Steph's life until he stopped. But it was awesome. Totally. And I got to snuggle with some Vader and some Pimp Daddy and that's always a good time. Then the Cyclone. And my wussy ass wouldn't ride it. I think I have to refuse to ride a roller coaster for a long time before I become so ashamed that I just ride the damn thing. I have only refused the Cyclone once before so Saturday was not my shame time yet. Instead I sat with all the bags, drank a diet coke and waited for the best time to get a shot of Ed's Shirt on the coaster. Luckily Muffy and Steph were good enough to get the front car and I think we have an awesome shot.

After that it was time to get daiquiris in giant tacky neon cups. Good times. They're pricey, but you get a free refill. So we walked a few feet away to finish off the first round while enjoying the view before filling back up for the walk to dinner. We went to Totonno's for what is apparently some really awesome pizza. And it was good. And at the pizza place we learned that Muffy thought cooter meant your hick friend. So she wasn't quite in on my madness all day. We got that cleared up though. Oh, and on the way to dinner, by a stroke of pure luck, we spotted Our Ladies of Solace Church. My children will go there. And play on the ball team. Then we headed back to the train for a rousing game of Death is Not an Option. Some gross options. Don't ever play with Pimp Daddy. Though Muffy was the one who brought us "Michael Jackson or Bubbles the Chimp".

Everyone else headed home to recover and treat sunburns and the like. I just dumped my stuff and headed to the Bowery Poetry Club for Rock Star Fran's gig. Apparently Boog City does fundraisers from time to time where they have a bunch of musicians cover one album. Saturday night was Prince's Purple Rain. And Fran was rockin' out on "I Would Die 4 U" and "Baby I'm a Star" She did a good job and had some interesting takes on the songs. The show overall was interesting. I really liked the performance of "Darling Nikki" and mostly liked "Purple Rain". "Computer Blue" and "I Would Die 4 U" were fun covers. But some if it was a bit unPrince like for my tastes. As one of the folks I was standing with said, "Prince is about Sex, not sensitive boy music". And it's true. It just doesn't sound quite right as sensitive boy music. But it was a fun gig and interesting to watch. And it's always good to see Rock Star Fran rock out. Or get goofy. Or both.

There were some poetry readings ahead of time which I wasn't expecting. Not bad, but I was so tired that I don't think most of it registered. One guy kind of upset me at cheering Reagan's death. I don't think the man was a saint and I wasn't upset at the news of his death like some folks at the office, but cheering at it kinda left me a little cold. I don't know. Seems sick. Maybe that's just me. Not quite liberal enough.

Anyway. After the show I hugged Charlotte and BLeia, chatted with Fran and her man a bit and then headed home. To blissful sleep. And so endeth Day Two.

*Apparently I missed a highlight. "One of my favorite moments which Muffy and Amanda missed would be the "Addams Family Electrocute You Game" which Steph took on. There was a crowd of people watching as Steph was able to hold on all the way to the win! The best moment--a little boy became Steph's biggest fan, all agog watching him, and then shyly asking him about the game." - Vader. Hee. So sorry to have missed that.

Birthday Week - Day One

Birthday Week is exhausting. But awesome.

Because of Reagan's Funeral on Friday, the markets were closed. And when the markets are closed, my office is closed. Sadly this doesn't happen enough. The markets closing, not presidents dying. I'm okay if they don't die that often. Dying upsets me. Um, yeah.

So, Birthday Week started with a day off. Which was a great idea, I think. I had all kinds of grand plans about getting up at 8 and cleaning my entire apartment before 5. But, if any of you know me, you know that didn't happen. I was up before 10. I did get some cleaning done. Crossed a couple things off the ole to do list. And that was good. But the apartment is still a pit. Ah well.

I eventually showered and suited up (my Bernie jersey and Yankees cap and blue & white sneakers) and headed on out to the 4 train. By some strange Birthday Week coincidence Muppet and Mr. Muppet managed to get on the same car of the same train somewhere around 42nd street or Union Square. So I scared the crap out of Muppet by hugging her from behind ("You do not sneak up behind someone and hug them on the train!"), giving up my seat in the process. I sacrifice, she yells. My life is very hard. We got to the stadium and headed to the Big Bat to wait for Muffy, Steph and LJ. Took them no time at all to arrive and we headed in. Where the good Birthday Week luck just decided to laugh loudly and run away. Steph got denied entrance with his bag (which was smaller than the purse that walked in right ahead of him) so he and Muffy had to wander off and try another entrance, with her holding the bag and us taking her actual bag. Yankee stadium is as sexist about terrorists as anywhere else and is 98% more likely to let in a girl with a giant bag than a boy with a tiny man purse. Just so you know.

As the rest of us headed to our seats, Muppet and Mr. Muppet asked me why I got non-alcoholic seats. I thought they were kidding. When I Ordered the tickets ONLINE I was not told they were in the non-alcoholic section! No, I was not. I would've remembered this. I would rather sit in the farthest reaches of the stadium than sit in a non-alcoholic section. A strongly worded letter is going to be written by me this week. Count on that. But, there was nothing we could do at that point but try and sneak beer. Little did we know. We had not yet seen The Beer Nazi in her khaki shorts and sassy yellow STAFF polo. Woe unto us.

I went off to get beer and dogs and pretzels while LJ watched the seats. And then the game started. As I stood in the longest line ever (yeah, our counter person wandered off to count her cash drawer midway through my line's forward progression) A-Rod hit his homer. Really, about the only good play from the Yankees that game. When asked why he didn't come rescue me after others came back to the seats, LJ told me the game had started. Putz. He was obviously not comprehending this idea of Birthday Week. He will pay. Anyway. I came back to the seats and spent the evening watching the Yankees play like a bunch of girls while my companions (a Mets fan, two Red Sox fans, a Padres fan and a Marlins fan) cheer gleefully, all the while getting yelled at by and trying to hide from the Beer Nazi. This woman was having fits whenever she caught someone in the section with beer. Actual fits. Her eyes sometimes bugged out.

She came to our row at one point but was not able to catch us. We were sneaky. At first. But, unlike what usually happens, we did not get more invisible the more beer we drank. Muffy got sodas so we could hide beer in the soda cups. But the Beer Nazi saw Steph with actual beer cups and while yelling at him was able to see my soda cup with beer. Dammit. So we were sent off to the entrance to chug our beers. So we chugged. And then we came back.

And for some reason Steph and Mr. Muppet still had beer when they came back. So she yelled and threatened to throw us all out of the stadium if she caught us with beer again. It was all just ridiculous. And frustrating. A girl needs a beer when watching a game where the Padres beat the Yankees 10-2. Really. But we managed to have fun and the Padres fan was very happy. And Ed's Shirt got to grace another torso and see Yankee Stadium and all, so that was a treat. And we did get to see the Beer Nazi throw out some folks for drinking beer somewhere around the 8th or 9th Inning.

After the game, Muppet wanted to know if we were all going out for a drink. After about the 17th time she asked we all kinda clued in that she wanted to go out for drinks. As LJ had to catch the LIRR home at SOME point we ended up at a Playwright Tavern (there are many all over Manhattan) near Penn Station. After about a million $3 Miller Lites and a round of Car Bombs (and Scotch for LJ) and some strange conversation and threats of Trivial Pursuit throw downs and photos of Ed's Shirt and a Padres hat and befriending some man named Mark (or Martin) it was somehow after 3AM and LJ had left us. In fact, I think the bar was technically closed because they were finally letting our posse smoke in the back room. And the front door was locked and all. At this point I had also been whining about leaving for an hour and I was finally allowed to go home. There was a small incident with Ed's Shirt in the train station that I'm sure you'll hear about in its blog, and then we were on the F train. And Steph was blathering about staying up until dawn. Because he is a dumbass. He kept insisting we were going to a diner and seeing the dawn. He can be a bit stubborn when he's been drinking and Muffy and I are dumbasses as well so we went along with him.

We wrapped up the evening/morning with Grilled Cheese sandwiches (which tasted so good) and french fries in a Smith Street diner. And we came out and it was light. And the birds were chirping. And I wanted to kinda cry a little. Steph babbled about seeing the bright shiny orb. Muffy and I told him to go to hell because we were going to BED. And he followed along like a good man. Finally.

I got home, sent some babbling emails letting people know that if they were running late getting to my place for the Coney Island trip, that would be excellent. And then I passed out about 5:30AM. Ending Day One. A very, very long, but AWESOME Day One.

Go Yankees!

The lovely Iolanthe took me to a Yankees game last night for my birthday, as sort of a pre-Birthday Week kick off event. I have now decided I need to find a wealthy Yankees fan and latch on to them for life. Her boss has awesome season tickets and gives them out to clients and folks in his office when he doesn't use them. Right behind home plate. I have never seen my boys so close up before. It's so much fun to see a game all the way down there. I'm going to just cry on Friday when we're all up in the nosebleed seats. At least we'll have beer then.

Yeah, last night was my first Yankees game ever without beer. We were in the middle of our section and could not get an order taker's attention to save our souls. Finally we got one at the end of the 6th inning. She tried telling us that we weren't in her section but when we almost cried she agreed to take our order. And we paid her. And we got our little ticket. And our food & beer NEVER came. Some asshole behind us was giving us a hard time and being a jackass and we suspect he took our food when his order was delivered. Just because he's evil and all. So, after the game, Iolanthe and I started the quest for some whining and our refund. We talked to an usher type who told us to wait and he'd get someone for us. Eventually he sent us to the gate to speak to a supervisor. Who took us through the crowd to one of the kitchens. Then we fought the crowd again as he took us upstairs to another kitchen. Then he left us there in someone else's hands. This guy made a couple calls and then sent us off with someone else to a third kitchen where some guy had us wait while he ran off elsewhere to get our $33. We would have preferred it if our food had just been delivered. And our beer. Well, my beer. Friday there will be much beer.

The game was a fun one though. Not too exciting, but not dull. And the Yankees won. Of course. And Iolanthe and I had a nice time gossiping and catching up. The guys next to us were very sweet. They went for beers and offered to pick stuff up for us if we wanted. But we thought we were getting food soon and turned them down. Foolish of us. Oh, and Steve Schirripa (Bobby 'Bacala' Baccalieri from the Sopranos) was there and sitting near us. Because we were that close to the field. Seriously. Do any of you know really wealthy Yankees fans whom I can leach onto? Hook me up. Help a girl out.

Fight!

Class was AWESOME today. I learned a new wrist snapping trick and totally beat up on someone and the instructor kept telling me I was doing a great job at blocking counter kicks and it was so AWESOME. And my right punch is getting good though my left punch is kinda wussy. And going on about stuff like this is partially why no one will fight me, isn't it? Dammit. No one would fight me at reunion last month. I tried. So unfair. People are just wussies. Though I guess it did not help that I accidentally hurt Pumpkin while showing her a move. I didn't seriously hurt her or anything because she's a tough chica, but I still felt like an ass. And so, I'm not demonstrating any more moves on anyone anymore. But I will fight people. If they would just agree to it. Maybe I should troll bad neighborhoods late at night. Then I could get my ass thoroughly kicked and could finally shut up about my bad ass moves. It might be best for everyone.

Yeah. I'm going to go get lunch now so I can calm my ass down.

And tonight. The Yankees! Yay! I love Pre-Birthday Week!

Job Search

I'm often amazed at people who don't know how to do things for themselves. Like people who get all turned around and confused while traveling. They can't seem to do it without a tour group or companion or something. Or people in college who couldn't balance their checkbook. Or people who can't do their own taxes even when they qualify for the EZ form. But really, I shouldn't mock. Because I frankly have no idea about how to look for a job. I sorta know how to write a resume. But that's about it.

I can find a temp gig without a problem. Auditions. That's easy. But job hunting, not so much. I've never really had to do it. Babysitting jobs just found me, what with living on an Air Force Base and all. Lots of kids and such. Then that job as a Continental Go-Getter. I think Dad read about it, brought me an application and viola! I had a job. Then it was temping. Which is so easy to get. Then I came to New York to be an ACTRESS! And we see how well that worked. But no job hunting at the end of college was required. I was just coming to the big city. I'd temp for a couple of years and by then I'd be making a living with acting. Pah!

And this job. I was just a temp and after about two years of refusing all their attempts to hire me full time, I caved. They offered me money and stuff and the acting thing was going nowhere so why not. There were opportunities for education and promotion and it was kind of interesting and then there was the money.

But then things went bad and layoffs became more common than promotions and somehow I got stuck with a group that would rather cut off limbs than promote me out of my current position. I really believe my current bosses would rather fire me than promote me out of my current position. So I developed a bad attitude. I 'embraced the apathy'. And here I am, about to turn 30, in a crappy job that I hate (but doesn't actually pay me too poorly) with no prospects for a real career or promotion or anything. And no huge desire to go back to ACTING as a career (though I really should take it back up as a hobby). And no idea of what I might want to do.

But, I've got to do something. I have to figure out what I want to do. And start looking to see what's out there. I've got to brush up the resume. Start thinking about how much of a pay cut I'd be willing to take in order to have a job that really meant something to me. And I've got to do it soon. I can't start 2005 still in this godforsaken place where they now act as if I barely finished high school.

Any help or advice is welcome. But I sorta gotta figure it out on my own for the most part. Ugh.

Oops

Totally forgot to take a moment to tell everyone in the world (or the three people who read this) how very, very awesome Muffy & Steph are. These darling people took me to Lowe's and bought me a porch swing and a watering can and some other items to help my the Big Backyard BBQ an event to remember. Yay! It's an excellent porch swing. After assembling it yesterday, Muffy and I tested it out with some beers and some chillin' and a good time was had despite the weather. So, Muffy & Steph rule. Y'all totally get as much swing sitting time as you want at the BBQ. Well, as long as the birthday girl doesn't want to sit in it.

BREAK OUT!

Today is not a pretty day. I feel all puffy from the sinus thing. And apparently my face has decided that it's 'embrace acne' day or something. So many little red pimples all over my face that I just want to cry. Because if I can't look pretty. What's the point in going on? Really. I hope my body is just trying to get this all out of it's system so I can look pretty and be healthy for birthday week. Otherwise. I just don't know.

I'm trying to decide what booze to have at the BBQ. I have good scotch, whiskey and bourbon and am trying to decide if I need lesser quality scotch, whiskey and bourbon for the tacky BBQ set. I do have enough tequila, vodka, rum, gin and Kahulua I think. And am not sure what else I need. I have some beer and cider and figure people can bring stuff. I really don't need to go booze shopping at this point, right? And if people want more beer it's not like there aren't tons of options within a block of my pad. Ah, see. Blog decision making.

I'm so Birthday Week obsessed. I pity anyone who comes in contact with me between now and the 11th.

Of course now, I'm worried about feeding people. Fuck it. I don't care. I'm going to have fun and not worry about it.

So, that's done. And now this blog entry is too boring for words. Leave now. And go buy Ed's Shirts Shirts!

Sinuses suck

Ugh. I have a sinus thing. I feel like poo. I'm totally stuffed up. And I have three million things to do for birthday week as well as a birthday party to go to. So annoying. I'm about three hours behind where I want to be. SUCKS.

But, I have drugged myself, packed some kleenex an am off to get the flamingos. And then some birthday gifts. And maybe a comforter. And maybe a swing for the backyard. I think this afternoon will be 'light' cleaning and tomorrow will have to be the heavy duty stuff. Ugh.

All I really want to do is lie on the couch and watch TV while my Mommy brings me 7-up and grilled cheese and tomato soup. Dammit.

Ah well, I'm sucking it up and am off to get the flamingos. Let's keep our fingers crossed that this is a VERY short lived sinus thing. I think it's Poodle's fault. Bad disease bringing houseguest. OR maybe the futon made me ill. It's possible. Hmmmm.

Yeah, I'm delirious. Ugh.

Grrls Rock

Vader and Muffy are the coolest chicas on the planet and I adore them. They helped me get rid of the body, yo! Oops, did I just break the blood oath? Um... it wasn't a body, really, it was, um, a futon. Yes. A futon.

See, Muffy and Vader came over last night. First Muffy took charge and was all super garden gal and we planted my three azalea bushes. Apparently I have worms and great soil so that rocks. But there are weeds and grubs and that doesn't rock. But the bushes are now planted and I watered them this morning and we're keeping our fingers crossed. If they work out I'm going to trick Muffy into coming over lots to garden with me until I think I can do it on my own. There might be flower beds soon. Maybe an herb garden as I love fresh rosemary, basil and dill. But we'll see. Let's make certain I don't kill the azaleas first. And of course room needs to be left for the hammock and the flamingo.

After that we suited up to get rid of the 'futon'. Yes, the 'futon'. When I moved into this apartment Mom came and helped and was awesome. And then Dad joined us for the unpacking and the settling in. They were amazing. We even got a U-Haul and headed off to Ikea. Where I got a sofa bed that I liked. So the 'futon' became unnecessary. Rather than kicking it to the curb at that time, Mom thought we could put it out back and make it weather proof. Well, before we could figure out how to do that, the first rains came. And then the snow. So, a year and a half of weather turned the 'futon' into a horrible, horrible thing. And with the big backyard party coming up, it had to be gotten rid of. Taken care of. Taken out. Um, to the curb.

I didn't even realize how gross it had gotten. It was waterlogged and had at least two snails and two slugs on it as well as spiders and things. And did I mention that plant life was GROWING out of it? Yeah. Ew.

So, we tossed on some garbage bag dresses and went to work (the photos are EXCELLENT). Muffy was brilliant and came up with the idea of tying rope around the 'futon' mattress to keep it folded and give it handles. And to keep anything, um, inside it from falling out. And so we lugged that puppy through my apartment and out to the curb. Where I almost threw up at the grossness. We got the grossness all over our legs and shoes and ew. Ew. Ew. Then we had to lug out the lighter, but just as hard to maneuver, frame. Which we did. While injuring Vader's hand badly. Then we washed up a little, Bactined and iced Vader's hand and I moped up the slime trail from the futon. Then we discussed possibility of The Thunder From Down Under in Atlantic City before Vader had to flee and take care of Taylor's dog. So Muffy and I had a beer before she took her smelly slime-covered self back home to her honey.

Now I owe them my first born or something. But until then, I just want everyone to know that they are the best women I know. Yay!

The 'futon' was still out there when I left so I'm not certain it's gone from my life, but let's hope the sanitation guys took care of it for me. Otherwise Vader's injury and all my aches and bruises might've been for naught. Class is going to HURT today. Dammit. I'll be lucky if I can do one push up with the way my arms feel right now. I may try and go early to stretch a lot if I can.

Vagina Free

Okay, now that that's out of my system.

Yesterday was lovely. I did lots of fun Birthday Week planning things. I made a little note for my neighbors warning them about and inviting them to the big BBQ. Because it's the nice thing to do. I put that up this morning. Hopefully the party won't annoy them beyond reason. Though I still think my upstairs neighbor is not going to enjoy the hammock and flamingo. She seems anti tacky. Ah well. Maybe she'll be amused and the azalea's will placate her or something. Whatever. It's MY yard. Yesterday, I also become a compulsive evite checker. Whoa to the person who has viewed my evite and NOT responded. You will feel my wrath. Or not.

Last night a friend crashed at my place so we decided to go out for Japanese with Muffy and Steph. Steph looked like he wanted to nap the whole time but we all had fun. And they ate more sushi than I could believe. I was just happy with my tempura and my avocado role. And sake and dessert. Yum. Plus we had a lovely discussion involving thong vs. g-string vs. full size, drugs, buying vs. renting, people we dislike, the inappropriateness of my blog, coworkers, Ed's Shirt and all sorts of other good things. I like having interesting friends.

Then some lightbulb changing, cat torturing and a brief discussion on the Thunder from Down Under before bed. June is the best month in the 2004 calendar. And oooh, they updated the webpage. Oh my god. The thunder will be in Atlantic City during BIRTHDAY WEEK!!!! Is it too late to revamp and plan a Birthday Week trip to AC? Hmmmmm.... Oh dear. I may have to spend the rest of the afternoon reviewing the updated webpage. My stripper fake boyfriend is still so hot.

Keep your fingers crossed that it doesn't rain tonight so I can get my ratty old futon to the curb for trash day and plant some bushes. Hot times.

The Vagina Entry

Okay, I lied. I'm NOT done writing about my body. Live with it. Lord knows what searches will lead people my way now.

(Sorry Daddy, you may want to look away)

I'm going to tell y'all the tale of how I came to give my vagina the title of Cleanest Vagina in all the Land.

I don't do anything special to my vagina. I have never used a douche or Feminine Deodorant Spray and frankly don't even understand such items. Really. They confuse me. I love my vagina. I don't find it to be stinky or messy or anything that would make me want to use special products on it. I wash it like the rest of my body and it seems to be perfectly happy with that. In fact, all the vaginas I've ever been confronted with have been lovely so I really don't understand why there are so many special 'cleaning' products for the vagina. Are there penis & ball cleaners? I think not. Though if such a thing does exist, PLEASE let me know. That would crack me up. So, I did not do anything special to get this title, I just went to the gynecologist.

I often have odd girly doctor visits. My first one ever, at Wesleyan's Health Center of all places, the doctor asked if I wanted to see my cervix. She already had the mirror in hand so I said what the hell and decided to take a peek. All was well until she said, "See that thing that looks like a tiny pink bagel? That's it." Yeah, I have a tiny pink bagel inside me and you're all jealous. I told my mom that lovely tale and she made some kind of ew noise and announced she was never going to eat a strawberry bagel again. Heh. So, as you can now see, girly doctors say odd things about my girly parts and I often tell my Mom about it. Because she's an awesome Mom in that way.

So, on a lovely winter's day I headed to the girly doctor for my annual poking and prodding and prescription writing. I was living in my second East Village apartment so I was 23. A lovely age.

Everything was going well with the weighing and the fluid taking and the undressing and the breast exam. And then we move on to the vagina check up. First the lovely doctor made a comment about my tattoo, talking about how Koi are good luck and all. Kind of going on about how I carry good luck with me and that the tattoo is low on my abdomen and all. Which was interesting enough. I figured that could be marked down as my fun girly doctor comment for the year. Then she started asking me if I douched or anything like that. I told her I did not and started to worry. Then she told me I had the cleanest vagina she had ever seen. Ha! How awesome is that?

We wrapped up the exam. Everything checked out okay so I dressed and headed back to work. Back then I still had AIM on my work computer and chatted with Mom there all the time. We were chatting and she asked me how the girly doctor visit went. You know, making sure I'm all healthy and stuff. So, I told her the whole clean vagina story. And then I didn't hear from her for a little bit. And I worried for a minute. A clean vagina could not have shocked my Mum after all the other topics we've discussed.

Well, she finally typed back. But she was having a hard time typing as she was laughing so hard. It turns out that she asked how the doctor was and then dashed off to the bathroom. The joy of 'multi-tasking' with Instant Messaging. She heard the little AIM ping (the bathroom is just across the hall from the office in the house) telling her I've sent a message. Dad was nearby so she asked him to read my message to her. Right after that she heard him say, "I'm NOT reading that." She quickly finished up and dashed back to the computer to see what upset my father so much. And then the laughing started. My poor, poor father.

So, the fact of my clean, clean vagina combined with that story really insured that I will be telling this tale to many, many people. For years. At least 7 so far. In fact, over time I've become very, very proud of my clean vagina. And so the title was born.

Now you all know. I have the Cleanest Vagina in all the Land.

Egomaniacal Dork (and her pants) - you might not enjoy this one, Dad

That's my new title pertaining to my Birthday Week Obsession. It's all about ME, baby.

Today someone told me I had a nice ass. Always fun to hear. Well, usually fun to hear. And he's the third person to tell me my butt looks good in these pants. I am never taking these pants off. I'm living in these pants. I'm spending all of birthday week in these pants. Actually, I have three pairs of these pants, all very similar except one pair is grey. I think I can switch between the same three pairs of pants for the rest of my life, right? Because I got the last two on the sale rack and they ain't makin' these kinda pants anymore. So these have to last forever. Because It's almost always nice hearing I got a nice ass.

I attempted a back kick at the bag for the first time in class yesterday. I'm not good at it but it was fun. And that should help my ass look even better, right? Lots of the kicking.

I think I should go out tonight and flirt with strangers while standing. Since I'm already wearing the pants and all it seems a shame to just waste them at work where I sit all damn day long. And then to just go home and change so I can plant bushes. Happy Hour with my Pants! Maybe I should go to lunch several blocks away so my pants and I can walk and enjoy the sunshine. Excellent idea. Where is Rock Star Fran?

Cooked uterus, my ass, my vagina... This is getting excessive. I think the next entry I'm not going to mention a single body part. I really didn't start out planning to make this all about my ass.

Help!

What kind of Birthday Cake do I want for the 19th? Do I have a favorite? Is it too much to want to look for a Barbie cake? Where could I get a Barbie cake?

And what have I left off my Birthday Week To Do list?

And what kind of booze should I get? I probably should just get what I want to eat and drink because it is MY birthday, but do I want to have that tacky and tasteless of a party? Yes, yes I do.

I'm not feeling well...

So, last night I had annoying cramps. Not the kind that make you want to cry, but ones that'll certainly keep you from sleeping. So I got the Aleve and the heating pad and then, like the dumbass I am, I fell asleep with the heating pad. It was on high too. Dumbass. Luckily I did not catch on fire but I suspect that I have cooked my uterus and now will not be having children. Which will save a lot on birth control (not that I would need it, Daddy) but will depress me beyond reason. Because once I'm willing to become a grown up I really would like a kid of my own. I think I'd be an excellent Mum. Though now, with a cooked uterus, who knows. I woke up early this morning and turned it off and went back to sleep, but still it was a few hours of heat. I have red blotches on my lower abdomen. Such a dumbass.

I was also a little lazy this weekend. My cold from Lovey left me feeling slightly achy and just a touch off kilter Saturday and Sunday so I took that as an excuse to clear TiVo and read tons of TWoP and nap. It was kind of awesome but now I'm behind on photos I wanted to upload and birthday week plans and all that. So I gotta get cracking. Make my Birthday Week To Do list and all that. Charlotte was actually a sweetheart and emailed me to RSVP to each and every event she plans on attending. Adore her.

Muffy actually put all the events on the dry erase calendar she and Steph have on their fridge so that was nice as well. Yay!

Yesterday was a little productive. I went to Lowes for the first time. Impressive store. Sorta. And a little scary. I fell in love with a tacky swing I want for my back porch. It's only $70. But the delivery fee is $78. Which sucks. But Muffy said she and Steph might take me to get it sometime which would be awesome. But we'll see. They also had a Chaise I liked too. But Vader and I did get a few things for our respective bathrooms as well as a flamingo windchime for me to go with my lawn flamingo. And I got three azalea bushes to try in the backyard. I'm going to plant them this week. If they survive and seem to do well and look pretty then I'm going to buy more. Azaleas remind me of my Nana and of living in the South and I love them. But I think I'd mostly like to have the rest of the yard be grass I think. Well, at least a section of it large enough for a hammock. We'll see. Did you know Lowe's doesn't have hammocks? Anyone know of a good place online or in New York were I can get an all weather hammock and stand? By the 11th or at the latest the 19th?

Vader wouldn't let me get the fat stone frog for the lawn. Which is probably for the best. We'll see how the flamingo works out and if I then still want the frog - I'm getting it. We did decide I'm not ready to become the kind of person with a bird feeder or outdoor thermometer in my backyard though. Not yet anyway.

Then off to Muffy & Steph's for more educating Muff in cinema. We watched Logan's Run and Dr. No and realized that apparently the White Man rules. Seventies Sci-Fi is so sexist. As is Bond, of course. But I love Logan's Run and the bikini in Dr. No so... Good times. Real Genius will be next. We just ran out of time last night.

Then off to bed for cramps and A Wrinkle in Time. I wasn't at an age for cramps the first few times I read A Wrinkle in Time. Strange.

I'm such a girl. Sorry. Y'all probably don't want to know so much about my girly parts huh?

Friday Report of Doom

Today has been so upsetting and insane that I just bought myself a lawn Flamingo from the Oriental Trading Company. As well as a $6 tiara. And a flamingo for Lovey. This is what today has driven me too. Half our team is on vacation so my Friday workload has DOUBLED. You would think that wouldn't be possible with the insanity that is our Econ team's Friday report. But you would be wrong. I cannot tell you. And almost everyone has already gone home because it's a holiday weekend. Pain, angst. I haven't had time to work on Ed's Shirt or Birthday Week or pee or anything. And so, I purchased a Lawn Flamingo. It comes with outfits. It comes with a hula skirt and a rain slicker.

I feel all better now.

VIVA FLAMINGO!!!!!

I feel like ass

Lovey came in to work late on Tuesday, all sick and stuff. She left early. She still had time to get me sick unfortunately. And since half the group is out I can't come in late or leave early or anything like that. So, I'm pouting today. Be very grateful you don't work near me. Because the pout, she is fearful.

Staples has moved in around the corner. It's not good. Not good at all. I'm an office supply whore and cannot resist the call of pens and paper and colored paperclips (who the hell needs colored paperclips, really). I went yesterday and got blank CDs and 100 jewel cases and pages for printing CD labels and coin wrappers and even got a staples saver card or something so I can collect points. And some folder things. I went in to get a CD mailer to send Ed's Shirt photos to the awesome webpage creating Fishboy. That's all I went to get. And I did get some. But dang! I need help. Therapy of some sort. Do they offer group therapy for this disease?

My iPod is back and better than ever and I'd be really happy about it if I wasn't so sick. Okay, I'm actually still really happy about it but I am not energetic enough to show that yet. But I will. Don't worry.

And I've finally taken some time off from Ed's Shirt to focus a little more on Birthday Week. No one seems to want to root for the Yankees with me on the 11th so I might be redoing the kick off event. Something else involving beer I guess. I really do hope folks show up to Birthday Week. I'm having a totally insecure paranoia moment that everyone I know thinks I'm a raging egomaniacal freakshow and will stay far away from me from June 11 - 20th. Heh. I blame the sick.

Ed's Shirt has more Friendsters than I do and I'm Ed's Shirt's freakin' manager type whatever. So depressing. A shirt is more popular than I am. You still love me more than Ed's Shirt, right Mommy?

iPod

It's back! My baby is back! Yay! It's downloading all my songs again as I type this. Bliss. My baby is back in my hot little hands.

Can you imagine a world where you had to choose between your iPod and your Tivo? Or something like that? How horrible.

What a spoiled, spoiled princess I am.

Doctor, Doctor

I think I picked up a tapeworm at Wesleyan or something. Seriously, I'm hungry almost all the time. I'll eat a meal and then be ravenous again 20 minutes later. Really not so good as I am trying to lose weight and all. Dammit. Well, the eating all the time thing isn't so good that is. Maybe the tapeworm isn't so bad. Do tapeworms help you lose weight? They look kinda gross though. The hookworm? Have you seen it? Ew.

Okay, I don't really think I have a tapeworm. But I should probably get a physical. I haven't gone to a Doctor in so long. I come from the "walk it off" kinda people. I once tried to scotch tape together a wound that had fatty tissue coming out of it. A friend's promise to meet me there and his threat to call 911 if I didn't show up was the only thing getting me to the ER that day.

But I'm turning 30. It's probably time to start getting check ups and having official type people yell at me that I'm seriously overweight and telling me that I don't have a tapeworm and letting me know what that rash on my foot is and so on and so forth. So, my goal is to set that up before the end of June. Anyone have a physician they like who takes my insurance? Empire Blue Cross Blue Shield. I'm taking recommendations now. I also need a new girly doctor. Any recommendations on that front are also welcome. Oh, and a dentist. Anyone have a dentist they like who'll take my insurance? Fuck if I can remember what dental plan I'm on. Heh.

Man. Going to a doctor. I'm getting old.

Have a Great Summer!

Today was my last reading buddy day of the school year. And so I'm a little sad. Little Beyonce and I drank blue Capri Sun and ate donuts. And her little friend joined us. Her friend sometimes joins us because her adult reading buddy is a tool and sometimes just doesn't show up. Which sucks. When that happens she joins us and we read and giggle and play hangman - where they put the names of their boyfriends as the word. Heh. Today we read Chapter One of Judy Blume's Blubber. Everyone agreed that the other fifth graders were very mean and we all felt bad for poor Linda/Blubber. I also got a couple cute pictures of Beyonce and her friend as well as one of just me and Beyonce.

We did have a bit of an odd moment. Beyonce had a few of those rubber bracelets that were all the rage when I was 10 and are now making a fierce comeback. She and her buddy were explaining to me that Beyonce's bracelets didn't mean anything but that the older kids, like the high school kids, refer to them as sex bracelets and different colors mean different things. Like black means sex and light blue means french kissing and lapdances. My god. I had a 10-year old say lapdances to me. But we all agreed that the sex bracelet thing was very stupid and that high schoolers are stupid and that they're just bracelets.

Since when do french kisses = lap dances? Huh? Since when?

I usually feel uncomfortable in such discussions with kids. I don't want to freak out and make it bigger than it is. But it's such a touchy subject with someone else's kids. If they were kids that I was related to and had any sort of control over or guardian type role with I could just be frank and normal. But you can't just be frank about sex with someone else's kids. Especially when you only see them about 30 times a year. So, I try to just gloss it over and move on to something else as best I can. I am glad that they agree that sex bracelets is a dumb idea. Because, well, it is.

Speaking of Dumb Ideas... This Ed's Shirt thing has gone mad. Pimp Daddy and I have been fussing with Ed'sShirt's Friendster profile for the past couple of days. Fishboy is setting up Whereisedsshirt.com and is working on "Where Is Ed's Shirt?" shirts (awesome idea I think). Muffaletta is wandering around New Orleans showing Ed's Shirt the sites. It's all really very exciting. And silly. Though I am wondering when it will be a good time to reveal all of this to the Ed of Ed's Shirt fame. Maybe it's best just not to and wait see if someone else does it. I wondered if it would just end with 50 or so photos of people wearing Ed's Shirt at Reunion this past weekend. That's apparently not the case. Heh.

Dirty, dirty blog

Someone this weekend apparently stumbled onto my blog while searching for "undressed in front of my auntie". This is not a dirty blog. These searches make me feel dirty. I don't believe I've been undressed in front of an auntie since I was about 5. Or so. I don't know. I was actually a pretty naked child until I was about 10 maybe. Or later. Mom knows better. Yeah, anyway...

A friend of mine from early high school in Louisiana (let's call her Princess Pointy Butt) and I wrote a couple songs my sophomore year. One of them stemmed from the fact we would say, "anyway..." all the time. I think she said it once and I said anywhere and she said anysomething else and so on and so forth. And we started doing this all the time. So we wrote "Anyway, Anywhere, Anyhow, Any Position". As well as "Let me Be Your Fuck Toy".* Because we were complete dorks with way too much time on our hands. I wonder if I still have the lyrics somewhere. I really am just a constant embarrassment to myself aren't I? This must be part of the reason I scored so low on the 'shameless' portion of that goofy purity test. I just don't care enough that most folks think I'm a jackass as long as the ones I love realize the awesomeness that lurks below the idiocy.

This weekend was good. I had a great time but am exhausted. Sorta. Not nearly enough sleep. It's just fun to be surrounded by lots of interesting people whom I like, so I feel like I need to stay up late and enjoy them and get up early and enjoy them. Not that my New York friends aren't fabulous, but they just aren't all so concentrated for so long usually. At Wes's reunion there's always someone doing something, even if it's just sitting on the porch. And if some move on or want to do something else there's always another group handy that's just as fun. Kinda like college was but without the classes and things I guess.


*Disclaimer: We were 15 and 16 and had NO CLUE what we were talking about, really. And this is so going to get me more dirty search hits isn't it? Ugh.