My Life is VERY Exciting

A number of observations today:

  • I use the words 'ridiculous' and 'dude' way too much
  • Women should never wear knee-length skirts with knee-high pantyhose
  • I still hate the word 'pantyhose'
  • Having to take a drug test makes me feel like an illicit criminal, even though I haven't done any drugs for at least 2 months
  • There is no way to pee into a cup without also feeling like you are peeing on your hand, also, there is no conceivable reason (that I can think of) why you shouldn't be allowed to wash your hands after peeing into a cup following a drug test
  • 'Supposably' is not a word
  • 33 years old can feel a lot like high school when you attend graduate school with people in their early 20's
  • Not everyone who gets on/gets off the 1 train at 86th street is evil and should be glared at just because they happen to get on/get off the 1 train at 86th street, despite their (admittedly tenuous) connection to a certain citizen of Dallas, Texas
  • Fall is definitely the best time of the year to be in New York City
  • Think carefully before you offer to help an older woman down the stairs of the subway station with her cart. She probably has bricks in there
  • You can be single, fabulous AND in your pajamas by 7:48 pm on a Friday night

Playing Alone

You know those games you play when you live with someone? The constant battle over mundane household chores, each side trying to wear the other down until victory is achieved? Wars of attrition, folks. Once upon a time, in my not-too-distant past, I cohabitated. And I played those very games. I let the dust bunnies frolic under the bed. The dish had no opportunity to run away with the spoon, as they were both dirty in the kitchen sink. Fruits and vegetables rotted quietly in their bins in the refridgerator. And there was a certain smugness and perfection to my art, a beauty to my greatness of neglect. (And really, who am I kidding? I'm a Virgo. It never got that bad.)

Now I live alone. And the games continue, without my knowing (or at least acknowledging) who I am playing against. The ridiculousness of the situation struck me tonight. I fixed myself a drink, used the last of the ice cubes, and placed the empty tray back in the freezer. Who, exactly, did I think was going to refill it? I mentioned this to DJ and she suggested that I start to leave my toilet seat up and refuse to take out the garbage. Just to get at...myself.

Just as I was starting to think that all was lost, that I was irretrievably fucked up, that I might as well drop out of grad school and invest my remaining savings in intensive psychotherapy, MS came over. And made himself a drink. And refilled the ice cube tray.

I win.


Stupidity, Revisted

This is the stupid shit that I do when I am drunk.

Alternately, I also do stuff like I did tonight, which was to come home from a 12 hour day of classes, pour myself a STRONG vodka and lemonade, and proceed to write my Advanced Generalist Practice and Programming Reflective Log, which, by the way, was about events that I organized around my internship which, by the way, involves alcohol and substance awareness.




I am not a dumb girl.

There are some exceptions to this rule - see: relationship choices, drinking escapades, 'witty' asides that miss the mark, anything involving simple math. Ok, so maybe there are more than a few exceptions but really, there is a thin line between stupidity and ridiculousness. And I'd like to believe I am able to maintain that line.

So, I'll repeat, I am not a dumb girl.

That statement presents a unique dilemma when you consider that I have become inexplicably drawn to a) HBO's 'Deadwood and b) a NASCAR fan who lives in Michigan. And I have trouble understanding the plot points of both. Yet, still interested.


My iPod stalled several times during my morning jog, it took me 45 minutes on the phone (arguing) to get a dentist appointment with my shitty student insurance plan, and I have about 200 pages of reading to do tonight for my classes tomorrow.

It must be Monday.


Weekend Recap

For those of you following along in various parts of the country...


After the strenuous events of Thursday night (mocktails, the 80's revisted, college students) I abandoned my usual Friday routine of a morning jog and opted to lie in bed and contemplate my bleak, bleak future. When this got old (after roughly 1/2 an hour), I decided that the perfect way to cheer myself up was to tackle the mountain of laundry which had been steadily accumulating for two weeks. I headed to the laundromat where I discovered that a) all of the prices for washing and drying had been raised enough to necessitate my returning home to retrieve more quarters and b) despite the blessedly cooler weather, my excessive sweating problem continues, which created wet patches on my 'Real Women Bleed Orange' t-shirt which I then desperately tried to air out by standing on 9th Avenue and waiting for a breeze. Friday evening, in what is most definitely setting a dangerous precedent, I got a massage at Bliss, finally using the gift certificate I received from L&D a year ago. Pure heaven. Note to self: consider either alternate career to social work (robbing banks?) or marrying well as a means to visit Bliss on a weekly basis.


Apple picking in upstate NY with The Peanut, my brother and SIL. Cuteness abounds. I take 10 million pictures with my new camera. I also eat about 20 donuts, and then wonder why I think my face looks fat in every picture. Hm.


DJ, BC and I complete the Komen New York City Race for the Cure in Central Park, which is more 'leisurely stroll' than 'race', but worthwhile nonetheless. We then decide that watching the Jets lose is more important than studying, and even better than that, watching the Jets lose while consuming vast quantities of fried foods is the *best* idea. And now I'm home, and I think I have a tapeworm, because I am hungry again.


Graduate School is Tough

I learned several important things at work today.

1) When you have free chocolate in your office, and you are menstrual (as opposed to pre-menstrual), you will eat chocolate all day.

2) Walking around campus and taping up flyers is an integral part of learning how to design and market a social service program.

3) Ordering juice and soda from FreshDirect is an integral part of organizing in a social service program.

4) When the counseling center assistant tells you to 'wait a few minutes' before going into your office, then tells you to go in and 'see if you can stand it' and opens another office for you 'just in case', be suspicious. And then when you go in to said office, and look around very carefully and sniff very deeply, and still can't determine what the problem is, be even more suspicious. And when you hold your counseling session in the office, and have to force yourself to concentrate on what your client is saying and to STOP THINKING about what could have possibly happened, and then you come out and ask the assistant to please tell you what happened, and she still won't, be extremely suspicious. And when you spend the rest of the day puzzling over the mysterious events of the office, and you question everyone else who has even been near the counseling center if they know what happened, and you beg the assistant to tell you, and she still wont, then you might have to kill her. Especially if she persists in giggling while she refuses to tell you.

5) College students are still really young.

6) Handing out 'mocktails' is an integral part of learning how to design a social service program.

7) 'Mocktails' would be infinitely better if they had tequila or vodka in them.

8) Apparently, interning isn't a real enough job to preclude your supervisor's manager from asking you what your marital status is during a 'get to know you' interview.



Before we went into the City Opera tonight, DM and I played iPod Magic 8 Ball.

ridiculouschick: "iPod, will I have a date for New Year's Eve?"
iPod: Bizarre Love Triangle

Looks like my New Year's is going to be really interesting...I might have several dates, if you know what I mean (and I think you do).


iPod Magic 8 Ball

For my birthday, I received a 'sarcastic' Magic 8 Ball from MS & Groomzilla, which is sort of like your traditional question-answering Magic 8 Ball, only with more, ahem, sarcastic answers. Many, many questions were asked (mostly by me) on the night of my birthday party.

ridiculouschick: 'sarcastic magic 8 ball, will I have sex tonight?'
sarcastic Magic 8 Ball: 'yeah right.'

Lately, along the same vein, I've been playing iPod Magic 8 Ball, where the questions are directed toward my iPod.

ridiculouschick: 'iPod, will I ever find love?' (or some other such nonsense)

The next step of this 'game' or 'psychosis' is to put the iPod on shuffle. Whatever song comes up should provide an answer to the question. I haven't quite perfected the science of this mode of inquiry yet, but I'll let you know how it comes along.


The Black Eyed Please

In the morning, while getting ready for my day, I like to flip between MTV and VH1. And lately, this has been more disturbing than usual. The Black Eyed Peas are everywhere. And they are really starting to annoy me.

The 'Don't Phunk with my Heart' video is on ALL THE TIME. And I can't seem to stop watching it. I think I have a problem. The song just grates on my nerves, the 'acting' is horrible and the video set seems to be a blatant copy of Outkast's 'Hey Ya'.

And when you look at the other videos, it's all the same (which you can't avoid because, as noted above, on ALL the time). Fergie struts around and displays her (admittedly) awesome legs and wails, and then that Taboo guy tosses his hair and maybe dances a little bit, and then will.i.am raps and does some hand signals and I think there is another guy named Apple but I'm not sure what his function is. And I can't believe I know all of their names.

In better music news, yesterday I downloaded this song and this album so now I can strut down the streets of New York City like the badass that I really am.


The Perfect Day

Well, ok, today wasn't perfect perfect, in the sense that I had to drag my ass out of bed sluggishly even though I had only one drink last night. And then went to school where I attempted to analyze the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration (and why are those two grouped, btw?) National Outcome Measures for program measurement in efficiency, quality and effectiveness. And spent the better part of the afternoon trying to understand what the hell that meant and what the hell I was talking about in the paper I was writing on the same subject.

Then DJ and I dragged ourselves to her apartment, still burping up the Italian heroes we had wolfed down at 2:00 pm on the campus quad, which was covered with security due to some visiting 'leader' from some country or other. And we sat on her couch in her apartment and felt tired and full and fat. So, ok, I guess the beginning part of the day wasn't all that great.

But then things changed. We somehow motivated ourselves to go running in Central Park. When we stepped outside to head towards the park, the sky was a leaden gray and the weather felt threatening and ominous. The atmosphere felt green. In what was different from our usual routine, we decided to run to the park, in hopes of getting in a workout before the storm hit. But as we ran, our eyes looking up at the sky, the weather softened. And when we finally got to the resevoir, the scene was pretty cool. The humidity had lessened, and while the sky was still gray, there where bits of bright blue sky. At one point, we looked across the resevoir and the gray sky in combination with the building lights just starting to come on and the gathering dusk was totally beautiful. Eventually, we headed back home, covered with sweat, but feeling better than we had all day. We even kept running up the hill that eventually leads out of the park (well, ok, it was remarkable that I kept running, DJ is always able to run the whole time). And it felt great to be stretching and pushing ourselves and outside. Our minds cleared.

Later in the night, we went to the BEST place and attempted to do more reading, but instead were giggly and silly. And then I arrived home and my apartment had actually cooled off and there are groceries in the fridge and US Weekly arrived and life is good.

Question of the Week

This year, I've decided to formulate a 'question of the week' which I then use to harass and torment my friends.

Two weeks ago, the question was: If you ever write your autobiography, what will the title be?
(My answer: It Seemed To Be A Good Idea At The Time)

Last week the question was: If you had to pick a theme song that followed you around at all times, what would it be?
(My answer: pending. I can't find a song that I like enough to hear it all the time.)

Feel free to post your answers in the comments section!


Today at work I created a bulletin board called 'choices' which was supposed to highlight the activities one can pursue in NYC without drinking.

Tonight I made the choice to go out drinking. In NYC.


I Can See Clearly Now

It became abundantly clear to me tonight, while riding home on the 1 from school, that when my mother asks: 'So, life is good, right?' that the only acceptable answer is 'Yes'. And this realization was not due to any event occuring on the subway, but a general musing about my interactions with my family. It is interesting that the way the question is phrased precludes any answer other than an affirmative. And if I think about it too much, it is way too depressing to understand that my mother has limited interest in the details of my life. What would happen if I were to admit to lonliness, sadness or anger?

And, on a completely unrelated note, Neil Clark Warren and his eharmony commercials fill me with rage, due to their smugness.



It's close to 10 pm and I am still not recovered from the birthday party last night. Truthfully, even before I went out last night, I still wasn't recovered from my Syracuse trip last weekend.

I just got home from dinner at my parent's house (The Peanut was there, and actually squeaked because she was so excited to see me. Who needs a boyfriend when you have that?). I think I shocked my parents by declining a glass of wine, but I honestly couldn't fathom drinking anything alcoholic today. When you spend the better part of the morning throwing up, abstinence is a good policy.

So, the party. The location was amazing - the weather was perfect, the sunset was beautiful, and we had our own little reserved area and bartender. Lots and lots of people showed up, and things got a little crazy for a while. The best surprise of the night was that my brother came to the party - they had been in Maryland for the football game that day, and he had driven home, dropped off my SIL and The Peanut, and got right back into the car and drove into the city.

BG showed up with his girlfriend, who seemed to be trying to prove how serious they were by draping herself all over him and talking about how he 'practically lives' at her apartment.

JP and I got into a fight (I should have added 'no fighting' to my list of disallowed party behaviors) about the situation between him and KR. Then, BG and his girlfriend attributed the fight to jealousy on my part, but, of course, couldn't say that to my face. It's lovely to have people talking shit about you when they are a) guests at your party and b) barely know you. JP and I have texted back and forth today, and I left him a voice message saying that we should talk, but I'm not sure where we go from here. I am just so tired of being in the middle, and seeing behavior that I don't like on both sides and then feeling conflicted because I am friends with both of them. And I guess that came out last night, and the drama is old and tired, and I have regret.

DM saved my ass not once, but twice last night by taking and holding my cell phone when I started getting sentimental, and then again by refusing to give me a cigarette when I begged for one at 2:30 am. I can only imagine how much worse I would have felt, physically and emotionally, had I smoked last night.

JN and her husband saved my ass this morning by bringing McDonalds to my apartment. Meal #2 is a magic hangover cure and I cannot fully explain how essential fountain soda is to recovery efforts.

Ju's boyfriend Matt served as 'party pics' guy last night, since he is a photographer, and as soon as I learn how to dowload from my new camera to my computer, maybe I will post some pictures. There is a great one of the party sign from the bar, taped to my ass. And I think my brother was there for that *shudder*.

Despite the drama, it was a good night. I am relieved that my week of birthday celebration is over, and that next week, I can go back to my real life. My mother had baked a cake, and wanted everyone to sing 'Happy Birthday' to me tonight. I declined.


Happy Birthday to Me

Happy Birthday to Me
Happy Birthday dear RidiculousChick
Happy Birthday to Me...

La, la, la

Lessons learned in upstate New York this weekend:

1. If I ever write an autobiography, the title will be 'It Seemed To Be A Good Idea At The Time'

2. I am able to drink for 15 consecutive hours without losing consciousness. I do, however, lose most of my common sense.

3. If binge drinking is defined as '4 or more drinks in one sitting', then I pulled at least a 'binge drinking times 3' on Sunday night. This is probably not information I will choose to share at my internship.

4. Undergraduates are REALLY young.

5. Syracuse football is not worth watching if Donovan McNabb is not playing.

6. 'Dome dogs' and 'Dome foam' still cause extended periods of belching.

7. When your hand gets stamped upon entry to a bar, the same stamp will end up being transferred to somewhere on your face by the next morning, and that somewhere will probably be your forehead.

8. It is really difficult to remove a fake tattoo from your cheek without also removing a layer of skin.

9. Even when you are still drunk/hungover, it is wise to clean up a bit (and by 'clean up by a bit', I mean showering, wearing clothes that match and removing your makeup from the previous night) before your flight home, in case you end up sitting next to a cute guy.

10. A WVU football fan can be a good kisser, especially if he is not actually from West Virginia.



I am just returning from a weekend in Syracuse at a reunion of my best friends from undergraduate school. Much craziness ensued. I am headed out shortly to meet with friends from my graduate program, which starts tomorrow, so more later...


Another List

To make the night more enjoyable for everyone, the following is a list of things I am not allowed to do during/immediately following my birthday party:

1) smoke
2) make phone calls
3) shots
4) send e-mail
5) write a blog entry
6) get anyone's phone number
7) cry
8) bring someone home
9) sing
10) 'party tricks'