Sunday, October 29, 2006

There's always football

The Mets lost.
I haven't gotten to an open mic because work has been really busy.

When I came back to town last week I remembered immediately why I hate midtown:
in penn station burgers cost $16, beer is $7,
you can't get a view of the game
- and if you try to there are men in suits acting like you're the cutest little thing for trying to watch the ball game.

I caught a cab and went back to the messy abode.

Seeing family was good, although the line of the week was,
"Why haven't you met anybody?"

I don't know.

I once again feel horrifically single and I'm too messy to even own a cat.

I thought I'd possibly rectify my funk by going out on the town.
Saturday was full of Halloween parties - a chance to meet new people, maybe even a 'new man'.

Instead, I was emptying myself with a frightening stomach virus and a high fever.
24 hours of fun!

Well, at least there's always football.

I'm going to go sit on a faux leather couch,
eat some cheetos and watch the Giants
with my males friends
who are just friends,
and hopefully their cheers will drown out my mother's voice saying,
"Well, we just want you to be happy".

I was,
until I realized that it's been 3 years since I've been in a relationship,
a year since I even went on "a date",
and now I feel very alone.


Saturday, October 21, 2006

Virginia Vacation, day 4

No palm trees.
No ocean.
It's not that much warmer here.

But there's ...
No meetings.
No deadlines.
No stress.

My job is coloring with my nephew while counting to twenty.
My job is rocking my tiny niece while singing sweet songs.

I sit and exchange stories with my sister.
I drink beer and joke around with my brother in law.

I'm in the middle of no where Virginia.
I went apple picking and made apple crisp from scratch.

I've been going to bed early and sleeping late and making my own food.

There's nothing on the agenda-
except tomorrow I'm going to a blues festival at a vineyard.

This is an excellent break from my life.

The only thing I miss is an open mic.

Now, back to my break.

Monday, October 16, 2006


Me - Oh my God, that man thought I was a crack head.
I am that stressed out and bad of dresser that I look like a crack head?!
I was at one time a beautiful 24 year old girl, now I'm a freakin' crack head look alike.

Urban - First of all it was insinuated that both of us look like crack heads. We can't look like crack heads, crack heads don't have weightloss issues.

SF in SF

I went to San Francisco last week and since then I’ve been in a shit fog.

I don’t know if it’s the jet lag or the fact that the stress from work has been overwhelming but I’m not sleeping anymore and I miss everyone.

I’m rarely emailing friends and family, and if I am it’s short and curt.

Why have I been so nuts?

Because I’m trying to keep up with everything.

There was a motto my father had “don’t fall behind”.

It’s a diligent motto that makes a 12 year old girl feel as if she must sprint through life to make sure to win a race that no one else is even running in.

And it makes a 24 year old woman have moments where she realizes “hey, I haven’t breathed out in a half hour.”

But enough about my madness, San Francisco was quite awesome.
I was there for business, I worked a little too much there, but I’m not really a big fan of San Fran.

I like the beauty of it, and the mellow nature. If I was going to give up my imaginary race I’d totally go there to grow my hair long and take back up the threaded bracelet business I started when I was 8.

I finally got to visit Haight/Ashbury visit to SF, it was the one touristy thing I did.
I have read a lot about the area due to my random fascination with the beat poet section of Barnes and Nobels and was looking forward to some rebellious mystique. What I found was a place that smelled like my college dorm room (pot and incense) with way crazier hippy kids (bright florescent hair is REALLY hip with these kids – so are buttons, which I can only imagine are some sort of protective shield for when the zombies come for them during the heroine hallucinations)

The most disappointing part, there’s a Gap up there.
A Gap.
Ahh yes, that’s where Kerouac and Kesey sat and wrote about his ambivalence of the man and their fondness of simple knit sweaters and pleated khakis.

Best part of being in SF was being with my coworkers, who are always hilarious and fun to be around. There were many hilarious moments there
-I think I’ll keep to myself though,
so that they don’t divulge my crazy moments ;p

Tuesday, October 10, 2006

The Mets Fan "We"

That's right Mets fans,
we won the division.

Yes, it was us.

Why do I insist on using the plural, including myself and other fans who didn't technically play the game?
Because real Mets fans have been watching, waiting, cheering, crossing our fingers, covering our eyes, cowering in shame for way longer than the people on the team.

We've trusted and screamed for this longer, and we love the team for doing it.

But we wouldn't be true Mets fans, without knowing that-
if it weren't for the love of the sport
and going to shea
with that 'ya gotta believe' attitude
and cheering on with Mr. Met himself for the team,
that you were a real part of that win*.

It's our team, it's our time.
(at least those were what all the posters around my apartment read)

I'm going to game 1 of the NLCS (thanks Brenda!!)

Then on Thursday, October 12, 2006 everyone should head down
to Bar None to see me do "Grandma's Candy Box",
a FREE comedy show!
It starts at 9:30 on Thursday.
You should go, unless your watching the game.**

*I was at that game.

**If this is the case, then you should text me the score.

Monday, October 02, 2006

I'm not here...

I'm exhausted and working too hard.

My step father muses to me, "I want to open a company, it doesn't matter what we do, but I want to just hire you and your Mom. I'd have a number one company in a month and I'd only have to pay for two employee."

We're busy little worker bees.

Sometimes, I think I was raised Puritan instead of Roman Catholic because of the crazy strong work ethic my family shares.

Maybe being raised by two Republicans was enough.

Either way, I've spent way too much energy writing this, I need to put it back towards the people who pay my bills (oh, and I do love my job and all that happy hoo-ey, it's just the busy time of year, soon enough I'll be telling tales of wilder times...)

P.S. - I'm over cigarettes, you know how I know?
I got the rocks to tell Irene (my mommy) I quit
- which meant telling her I started again,
which meant sitting through the lecture and saying at the end of it,
"yeah, but I'm over it. I promise."
To promise to Mama Funke you better mean it because,
well you just don't mess with Mama Funke.