Monday, June 30, 2008

Old F***ing C**ts, and Other Dangers of Driving in New Jersey

We sat outside a Starbucks in Secaucus, sipping our green tea Frappuccinos and talking about nothing in particular.

During a lull in conversation, he looks across the table and says, very simply, "I love you."

I smile.

"I love you too."

Too bad he's fucking gay.

Today was my Great Zipcar Adventure, and Slater--with whom, after yesterday morning's bout of pissiness, I am no longer annoyed--and I made the trek to Secaucus in search of a PetSmart that would allow me to place a 40lb tub of cat litter into a cart and roll it right out to my car.

First of all, I would just like to say that Google Maps? Has NO idea how to estimate driving time. 36 minutes, up to 46 in traffic? Puh-lease! Traffic in New York City takes on a dimension far beyond that of, say, Bumblefuck, Wisconsin. NYC Traffic simultaneously adds hours to your journey while it removes years from your life. NYC traffic is, essentially, the work of Satan.

Or maybe George Bush. But I digress.

It should be noted that, when behind the wheel of a moving vehicle, the foulness of my language obtains epic proportions previously unknown to the universe. The title of this post was Slater's favourite epithet of the day, which I spat at an old man driving a Saab who cut me off somewhere in New Jersey, at which time I had fucking had it with people. Specifically people behind the wheels of all motor vehicles in the tristate area.

I'm not entirely sure what portion of NJ saw the birth of this particular gem because, again, Google Maps? Like the majority of the population, has NO idea how to drive in Jersey. (Apologies to DS, I'm sure you're just a super driver... but the rest of your state? Well, there's a special circle of hell reserved just for them).

At any rate, we drove around in circles for a good 20 minutes before actually finding the shopping center--in the exact opposite direction from the one in which GM told us to drive--and another 20 driving around a megalithic complex of shopping malls and cheap, chain hotels, looking for the shopping center that housed the PetSmart.

All was not in vain however, and between cooing over kitties and bemoaning a depressed chinchilla, I managed to purchase 2 months worth of cat litter and cat food for the nominal fee of $40.

We drove back via Manhattan--where traffic was once again atrocious anywhere south of 14th Street--and into Williamsburg so I could sell some old clothes at a hipster-infested consignment shop there. Ever since PetSmart I had been feeling kinda shitty, but by this point I felt like death and was starting to lose my voice. Slater rode back with me to my apartment--and lugged the 40lb tub of cat litter up the stairs for me, bless him--and then took off so I could take a much needed nap.

I didn't nap, so much as rolled around and sweated profusely with my eyes closed for 2 hours, but am feeling somewhat better. After I drive back up to Williamsburg to pick up the 43lbs of laundry I dropped off this afternoon (because same-day service apparently doesn't exist in my neighborhood), I plan on going straight back to bed.

Only 2 more full days in New York before I leave!! Yikes!!

Hope your Monday was equally eventful... and free of Fucking Old Cunts.

Sunday, June 29, 2008

Pet Peeve

More than anything else I can possibly think of, I absolutely fucking hate being canceled on.

Slater and I were supposed to go to the Pride march today. It's been planned for nearly a month. I scheduled my entire last week in New York--in the freaking USA--around this day being dedicated to Slater and his friends.

He was supposed to call me last night to let me know where/when we were meeting. Or early this morning, at the latest.

By 11:00am I had heard nothing, but was completely ready to go--showered, make-up applied, bag packed. The march started at noon so I knew that I would have to fly out of the house as soon as he finally called.

At 11:11am, after two texts and a voicemail, I receive the following: "in bed. sick."

Now, on one hand, I know I should feel bad that my friend is not feeling well. On the other... WTF? How did this just suddenly come on when yesterday he was totally fine? Is he actually sick or is it just some lame excuse? Why did it take until after 11:00 for him to finally let me know? I could have been sleeping! Instead I got up at 9:00am so that I'd be ready to go whenever he finally called with details.

And now I have absolutely no fucking idea what to do with myself.

In case you hadn't figured it out by now, I can be a little bit of a control freak. And when I've already planned to dedicate an entire freaking day to something, and that something is then yanked out from under me, I find it difficult to recover. I was so focused on what was supposed to happen, that now I cannot comprehend a change in plans.

To be honest, I had a bad feeling when I hadn't heard from Slater by the time I went to bed at 1:00am. I think it all hearkens back to a particular ex, whom I shall call The Flake, because he was infamous for making plans and then just never showing up. Supposed to come visit me in Maryland for the weekend? Oh, sorry, I won't bother showing up or calling, but I'll text you sometime on Wednesday of the following week to say that something better came along, and attempt to casually name-drop the semi-famous people that I chose to hang around and do coke with instead of visit you, in hopes that you'll probe further and I can brag. Meanwhile guess who sat around her apartment all weekend wondering where the hell you were?

I know that Slater is not my ex. But whenever something like this happens, all the old frustration comes boiling back to the surface and I'm not sure how to cope.

I fucking hate being canceled on.

Now me and my newly purple hair need to find something to do for the next 12 hours.

Any suggestions?

Friday, June 27, 2008

5 Days and Counting

I am afraid to open my Google Reader. Mainly because I haven't done so in about a week and I fear the number at the top of the page will give me a heart attack. Please don't think that I've stopped loving you all, but as the title of this post would suggest, I've got quite a bit going on these days!

For the moment, however, I am not feeling particularly stressed. Perhaps that's just the numbing effect of the obscene amount of alcohol I consumed last night with school folks, but I'll take what I can get.

I'm trying to figure out how much it would cost to ship my laptop back to the States if I were to take it to Ireland. I was going over the syllabus the other day and there's quite a bit of written work required for this course, plus a journal which our tutors can ask to see (which means that I actually have to DO one, damnit!), and since my handwriting is particularly wretched, having a computer would be a plus.

However, I do NOT want to take it to Brazil or lug it around Peru, so it would have to make its way back to the States... which means either EXPENSIVE shipping costs (so far the cheapest I've found is around $80 through the Irish postal service), or finding someone who is not traveling afterwards to take it back to New York and hang onto it for me. Either way it's a pain in the arse. But I'll figure it out.

I have a feeling the next few days are going to pass in a blur. I've got some more school work to deal with--particularly a writing assignment for the Ireland course--and plenty of small details to take care of around the city. Sunday is New York's PRIDE parade, which I will be attending with Slater and Ophelia (his uber-hot lesbian best friend) and a slew of other folks that I've never met. Should make for an interesting day! And Monday is Froggy's Rental Car Adventure, though I'm not quite sure yet what the fun part of the adventure is going to be. Perhaps the beach, or a cute little town in PA that's only about 90 minutes away. We'll see.

I'm babbling, I realize, and I do hope I'm not boring y'all to tears.

Bear with me, I'll have plenty of interesting things to talk about soon enough :)

Thursday, June 26, 2008

Phew - Part 2

It's official... as of 11:00pm this evening, the short film is WRAPPED!! Done! Finito!

Well, the shooting part anyway. I need to drop by my director's office and do a quick voice record of my lines to aid in sound design, and pick up the check reimbursing me for the money I've spent on the process. But still. No more filming!! That's a big ole' check-mark on my "To Do" list!

And it also means I can get a manicure!! And a haircut!! Some extreme haircolouring is planned in celebration--stay tuned.

In other news, I can't believe I forgot to mention... I finally heard from The Russian. It was a mass text-blast for some party he was promoting.

So, yes. Completely written off. Granted, I generally don't expect much from guys I sleep with on the first "date," but it's still somewhat irksome.

My brain is completely fried from lack of sleep--we had shoots at 6:00am and 8:00pm today, and I only got a 2 hour nap in between. Thus I shall abandon all further efforts at coherence and bid you all a fond adieu for the evening.

Sweet dreams!

Monday, June 23, 2008


Irreverent Internal Dialogue Moment of the Day
"Jesus... I'm sweating more than a pedophile in a day care center..."

That more or less sums up the majority of my day. It hasn't actually been exceptionally hot in NYC, but the humidity has been brutal. For me, at least. I'm sure that wearing my polyester grunge-goddess sweater for 5 hours for a film shoot didn't help either.

However, the short film is now one shoot closer to completion, the staged reading was a ton of fun and went very well, and... I FOUND A SUBLETTER!! PRAISE JEEBUZ!!

She's a bit of a spazz, but a very nice spazz. And The Princess (aka, my cat) loved her... and anyone who's ever met my cat can attest that this is a rare occurrence indeed.

Actually, I've got to give the furball credit, she really worked this girl over. Rolling around on her back and acting all cute. Clearly, she understood that mommy's sanity was at stake and it was best to behave. Smart kitty.

So that's one ginormous weight lifted from my already-slumping shoulders. Don't get me wrong, there's still plenty to do--errands to run, cat supplies to buy, hair to cut, nether-regions to wax, contact lenses to order... but things are coming together nicely (knock wood).

My mom is coming up from PA tomorrow, ostensibly to have lunch and go shopping, but really to smother me with affection before I leave on my adventures. I'm sure I will be hard-pressed to keep her from crying when I leave her at Penn Station, but it should still be a pleasant afternoon. We're going to hit up Century 21, and I may introduce her to the mecca that is Sephora (*insert heavenly choir here*).

That's about all I've got at the moment. I'm trying not to be an absentee blogger, but really it's been tough. However, two of my pre-scheduled absentee-posts are already written and waiting on my Blogger Dashboard... try not to die of suspense. I know it's tempting.

Right, this little froggy needs some sleep. Between an afternoon of motherly affection--and shopping--and another evening film shoot, methinks I'll be needing my strength.

Goodnight my lovelies!

Friday, June 20, 2008


...wasn't any better than yesterday. I am still a walking time bomb of stress, so much so that I totally snapped at my mom on the phone earlier when she was just trying to be nice and find time to come up for an afternoon to see me before I leave.

I just wrote her an apologetic email, so hopefully all is well in that department.

The short film project is reaching a point where it has ceased to be fun and just. needs. to. be. OVER. Had another pre-dawn shoot this morning, threw my first ever diva-fit with the director about scheduling of another shoot, and am on the verge of throwing another one about a certain scene that we apparently have different visions for... his involves graphic vomiting on my part. Mine does, er, not.

But enough about that. I'll spare you the epic details of my crabbiness.

On a good note, tomorrow is the first performance day for the staged reading I've been working on all week, and I'm really excited. The process has been a lot of fun, and I've learned quite a lot about developing a script. I think we're going to have a great time tomorrow. So that will be good.

And I may go buy shoes on the way there. I was going to go this afternoon, but I got sidetracked by bitching at my mom.

Shoes definitely would have been better for the psyche.

Also, I am rambling.

And so, the experiment of the evening: I know Ambien helps me fall asleep... but does it also prevent crazy stress-induced nightmares? I haven't passed a night without them all week, so we'll see how it goes.

Wish me luck!

And while you're at it: tell me something happy. I need to climb the hell out of this funk before it eats me alive.

Thursday, June 19, 2008

Moderate Panic

It dawned on me today, as I sat on the phone with a nice lady from AT&T trying to figure out how to avoid paying my cell phone bill while I am out of the country, that I am leaving in exactly TWO WEEKS! HOLY SHIT!!

The sense of panic that had been lurking in the shadows the evening prior, preventing my exhausted body from falling asleep, chose that moment to pounce, claws extended, and sink its teeth into my jugular.


And I still have so much to do.

The subletter-search is becoming an increasing pain in the ass. Some girl who has been giving me the run-around for the past few days and had FINALLY settled on a day/time to come see the place just emailed me this morning saying she and her boyfriend didn't get the jobs they wanted so aren't moving to NYC after all. FABULOUS! I still have someone coming Sunday evening, so hopefully she isn't a complete freakshow and I can just sign her up and be done with it.

Oh, and before she comes I need to find time to clean this place. I did a precursory straightening the other day, so I could get away with a quick dust-and-vacuum in the major rooms, but the kitchen and bathroom are a disgrace.

Not to mention the MASSIVE cleaning that needs to happen before I leave--gotta hide the irreplaceable booze (Absinthe and Ugandan Gin) and figure out how to give the subletter a few drawers in my dresser and maybe an inch or two in the closet.

I realized that I have done NOTHING about the red-tape surrounding my Fall project, and I really need to get on that--Pronto.

I also need renter's insurance. And travel insurance.

I joined ZipCar so that I could go out and pick up 2 months worth of cat-care supplies (kitty litter is HEAVY), but that won't happen until, oh, a week and a half from now. And I think my $50 of free driving time expires while I'm away, so in addition to running errands I need to make use of that. How does one go about scheduling mandated fun-time, anyway?

Shit. I still need to get another memory card for my camera. I've decided that 3 gigs of photos simply won't be enough.

Yet this looming cloud of doom has a silver lining of sorts. You know, aside from the obvious which is that hi! I'm traveling for two months!

The rehearsals for the staged reading are going really well. It's been a great experience--definitely useful for my project next Fall--and the cast is a lot of fun to work with. Also, working with a Newberry-Award-Winning author and a giant in the field of Ed. Theatre is also pretty awesome.

Short film is--universe willing--coming up the home stretch. Which means I can get a haircut! And a manicure! Hoorah!

I booked my hostel for my first day/night in London--yay! Now I just need to find one for the first night in Lima. I should get on that.

I ordered the awesomest pair of shoes from yesterday, and they upgraded me to overnight shipping for nothing extra! Unfortunately, that's where the good news ends. When the shoes got here they were a.) a little too big, and b.) had a really tight elastic strap that dug into my high instep, which I know would be killing my foot after a long day of walking. So they are gong back. But the shoe itself, aside from the evil strap, was insanely comfortable and I'm planning to buy another pair from the company sometime after I get back from traveling. (All the others that I like are suede, and I can't see wearing suede shoes in rainy countries.)


I am trying to escape this overwhelming sense of, well, ACK!!! that is hanging over my head... but I'm not sure how.

What do you do when you're so stressed you feel like your head is going to explode?

Tuesday, June 17, 2008

Love(?) Letters to New York

Dear Guy Who Muttered "Fuck You" Under His Breath As I Passed This Morning,

Seriously, what gives? You wanted the veritable foot of sidewalk space I was occupying? Didn't like that I was laden down with bags to help me survive errands, the gym, and a rehearsal? Perhaps you somehow sensed that I was on my way to the post office to pick up the insured package containing my new Marc Jacobs bauble watch, and couldn't help seething with jealousy?

Do us both a favor next time: man-up and say it out loud. Then I won't be the only one to know what an ass you are.

The Frog Princess


Dear Guys Walking Behind Me On Atlantic Ave,

Although I couldn't help but find your conversation riveting, might I suggest that alternating between comments on the fineness of a woman's body and the story of a girl who was murdered and apparently disemboweled might be considered more than a little bit creepy by the girl whose ass you've been ogling.

Just a heads-up.

Yours In Christ,


Dear M14 Bus,

You may save me the trouble of walking 5 avenue-blocks, but you will never, ever be faster.

Let's work on that, m'kay?

All the Best,


Dear Every Consumer in the HM on 5th and 42nd,

Oh my god would you fucking MOVE YOUR ASS ALREADY!?!? Christ! I have seen tortoises move faster than you people! You've already paid for your damned purchases, now get the fuck out of the store! Or at least get out of my way so I can escape the recycled air and cheesy pop music.



Dear Clearly-Non-New-York Teenagers in Line in Front of Me,

Your shorts are too short.

Also they are white.

This should not be legal.



Dear Woman on The G Train,

Fuschia eye shadow = hot

Fuschia hair = edgy, but questionable in anyone over the age of 30 which you so very clearly are.

Both of the above paired with matching lipstick and nail polish? I'm pretty sure that was outlawed in 1984.



Dear Guy On The Bus Who Said "Bless You" When I Sneezed,

Thank you.

No, really. Thank you.



Dear Trader Joes,

Holy Crap your frozen nuggets actually taste like chicken. I think I have died and gone to Okay Sue Me But I've Barely Eaten All Day And At Least The Ketchup Was Homemade Late Night Snack HEAVEN!


(Okay, so that's not really a New York thing, but cut a girl some slack..)


Dear Guy On The A Train Planning to "Drink From the Carton" and "Not Do Dishes,"

I hope you like roaches.

And backwash.




Dear G Train,

Thank you for arriving promptly the last two evenings on my journey home. If you could kindly continue this trend tomorrow at 4:00am when I'm en route to my pre-dawn film shoot, I would be exceptionally grateful.

Many Thanks,


Dear Readers With Readers (Ha! I Made a Funny!) Who Received A Blank Post,

My sincerest apologies. I, your humble author, take full responsibility for shifting the blame elsewhere.

Blogger had a spazz. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Love and Hugs,

Monday, June 16, 2008

An Apology, and Other Random Nonsense

I was just looking over my posts from the past few weeks, and really? Kids, I am sorry.

Other than the diatribe on my all-consuming-fear of love, I have written nothing of substance in quite some time, and I genuinely do apologize.

I want to. Indeed, I have had several ideas stewing in the back of my brain for the past several weeks--yet when I land in front of my computer all I can think to do is gripe about weight gain and the weather.

So I apologize. I do hope you forgive me and we can ride out this dry spell together... I'll get my mojo back one of these days!

In other news, if I make it through this week alive, it will be a damned miracle. Aside from being in rehearsal every night from 6pm-10pm for a staged reading, I also have three early morning shoots for the short film--4am on Wed and Thurs, and 5am on Fri. I do get to come home and sleep between shooting and rehearsal, but really... we NEVER finish shooting on time, so those imagined 3 hour naps will probably turn out to be more like 45 minutes. Add in finding time to show my apartment to potential subletters, and trying to get to the gym so as not to undo all the good work of the past few weeks, and I am going to be one frazzled frog come next Monday!

It will be worth it though. This staged reading looks to be a fun and worthwhile experience, and I really do think the short film is going to be great when it's done--and I never say that about myself on film, because I think I look kinda like a heroin addict on camera. Or, in this case, a frumpy heroin addict.

But I digress.

I still need to find suitable pants for traveling (i.e., versatile, lightweight, dry quickly, and don't make me look like a golf-playing soccer mom from the mid-west). The ones I ordered from Old Navy arrived today and... well... didn't look so good. Damnit. Any suggestions as to where I should look next?

Still no word from the Russian, making it officially a week. Yes, I am perfectly aware that I could call him, but a.) I've been so busy that I wouldn't actually be able to make plans anyway, and b.) honestly? I want a man who fucking calls. If I am not worth the effort of picking up the phone and shooting off a text message? I don't need to go chasing that down with a tranquilizer gun. There are other fish in the sea. Fish who call.

If you figure out where they've been hiding, let me know, 'kay?

I positively abused my body with alcohol this past weekend. Yes, I may be insanely busy, but I still find time to drink. The few braincells that survived the massacre are struggling to pick up the slack. Wish them luck.

Big, internet hugs to DS and Ashley. I promise I will stick around for more than an hour next time. And I am totally not kidding about going Speed Dating when I get back!!

POSTCARDS PEOPLE!! I don't think y'all realize how serious I am here! I actually want to send y'all postcards from my travels, so drop me a line with your address at das-frog @ if you want to get in on the action!

Trying to figure out if I have time for the gym today. I walked almost 2 miles to get coffee creamer this afternoon... I think that qualifies as exercise. My potential subletters canceled our appointment tomorrow, so I'll go then. Yes, that works. Aren't you glad I let you in on that little bit of self-persuasion?

What can I say? I'm easy.

Just ask The Russian.

Friday, June 13, 2008


Today while at the gym I saw the words "Unenthusiastic Penis" splayed across CNN. Somewhere, Edward R. Murrow is rolling over in his grave.

Why would a cleaning lady give me a weird look when I threw a paper towel... in a trashcan? And not even the trash can she had just emptied... the big rolly bin she emptied in into? I don't get it.

Yesterday I had a minor heart attack when I stepped on the scale at the gym. My mother and I are now officially on a mission to lose 10 lbs by the end of the month. Deutlich is also in. Any other takers?

Old gay men get cranky when they are around other old gay men. I told Slater that if he ever starts behaving like that, I'll have to stop hanging out with him.

Speaking of Slater... we bought our train tickets for Macchu Pichu! It's official! On August 23, 2008, I will be 8,000 feet above sea level, standing amongst Inca Ruins. There are no words...

But there will be pictures.

The retail therapy has got. to. STOP. Yesterday I had a stress fit that resulted in a Marc Jacobs watch. I've got a bit of buyer's remorse today, but I'm sure I will change my mind when it gets here.

The short film is stressing me out. If we are wrapped by the date named, it will be a god damned miracle.

Cranberry & Goat Cheese Crusted Chicken = Divinity on a Plate. Also, raspberry vinaigrette made from ACTUAL RASPBERRIES?? I totally heart The City Grill.

It is so wrong that I want The Russian to be the one to call me? I'll be honest, I'm not going to have a meltdown if he doesn't--I'm so busy right now that I can't even imagine when I would find time to see him. But that doesn't mean that I don't want him to want to see me. Gah, I am such a girl.

OMG MACCHU PICHU. Sorry, just had to say that again.

DS's birthday tomorrow!! And another friend's birthday as well! Party-hopping makes me feel totally popular, in a 90210 kinda way.

I have to keep reminding myself that calories are not the enemy. Over-processed, empty calories are the enemy. So technically a smoothie made with organic fresh and frozen fruit, organic no-sugar-added peanut butter, and organic yogurt should be okay... right? Just maybe not at 11:00 at night.

I cannot wait for that plane to leave the ground on July 3. Once the adventure starts, I can batten down the hatches and full steam ahead. Until then? Basket case, party of one, your table is ready.

Tuesday, June 10, 2008

Love and Consequences

The fabulous DS wrote a lovely post yesterday about, well, love. Bone-jarring, soul-encompassing, all-electrifying (really, just go read her post, she says it much better than I do) love. The kind of love she desires, the kind she won't settle for less than...

The kind that absolutely, beyond a shadow of a doubt, scares me to death.

Bone-jarring, soul-crushing, cowering-under-the-bed-in-abject-terror FEAR.

I don't want to care for someone that deeply, because then he could hurt me doubly so. I have never had love without suffering.

I'm afraid to be the first thing a man thinks of in the morning, and the last thing he thinks of at night... because the last (and truthfully only) man who ever loved me like that later ended up showing up under my porch at 2:00 in the morning and scaring me shitless. I do not know love without suffocation.

In my injured psyche, the two are inseparable--love and obsession, want and need. I'm terrified of being the object of someone else's insurmountable desire.

Me? I'm in search of a Sunday kind of love. A comfortable love. A love that means quiet evenings on the couch and bottles of wine. Long, lazy drives and naps in the sun. But can I have one without the other? Can I have that love without the all-consuming passion?

I worry that I can't. That one grows from the other.

That I must pass Go before I can collect my $200.

So here I sit, lounging in Jail, waiting to roll doubles instead of simply paying the jailer and going on my way.

As my last, admittedly-enigmatic post suggested, I have met a man. He's a friend of a friend and we quickly hit it off. Live music and mojitos followed their natural course to the Horizontal Mambo and a slightly hungover breakfast. He's nice. He appears to like me. If he calls within the week--and doesn't give me some schtick about "not being able to do this," whatever this is--I would consider it a home run.

And for once, I'm not running scared.

No, not because I think he's "The One" or any poetic nonsense like that--you should know me well enough by now to understand that, closet romantic though I might be, I think the concept of love at first sight is bullshit, and phrases like "The One" make me cringe.

No, I'm actually okay with this for one very simple reason: In less than a month I leave the country for 8 weeks, and I have absolutely NO plans to jump into anything serious before my departure.

No hassle. No expectations. No fear of impending emotional annihilation.

True, love is not exactly around the corner, but perhaps I've found a way to dip my toes back in those waters... check out the temperature and see if maybe I feel like going for a swim... you know, sometime after lunch, after I've had reasonable time to digest.

Perhaps. (See: "If He Calls" clause, above.)

Who knows? Maybe my Get Out of Jail Free card has finally arrived.

And it's Russian.

Monday, June 9, 2008


Ugh, we are having a heat wave and it is too hot to think.

However, I didn't sleep at home last night, so the news isn't all bad :)

Happy Monday!

Friday, June 6, 2008


  • The call for Postcards has only garnered three responses! Come on... humor my ego and act like you'll miss me! Email me at das-frog at if you would like to receive a postcard from my travels!

  • I am an idiot. When I was published on IB a few days ago, I submitted the wrong email/web address (used an underscore instead of a dash), so even if somebody liked my post... they would be unable to tell me. D'oh! I'd like to say comments don't matter, but really... sometimes... they do. Yeah.

  • Test-drove the Ambien last night. It seemed like it did, in fact, help me fall asleep, and I stayed asleep (unlike things like NyQuil where I wake up exactly every 2 hours) until a very noisy garbage truck woke me up at 4:30am. However, when my alarm went off at 9:30 I really didn't want to get out of bed. Whether that was the result of the Ambien or the 4:30am interruption, I'm not sure.

  • Starting to stress a little less about travel. I went over to Slater's the other night and we talked about Peru. We are basically going to take it one day at a time and aside from booking the hostel for our first night in Lima (since we land at 10pm), we're just going to figure it out when we get there. I've been doing some more research and I'm starting to think we should book our Machu Picchu train NOW, because they fill up quickly, which would mean committing to arrive in Cusco by a certain date. But other than that, we'll play it by ear.

  • So You Think You Can Dance is back! HOORAH!

  • My refrigerator is going through some sort of identity crisis--it thinks it is a freezer. A few weeks ago I noticed that it didn't seem cold enough, things were going bad too quickly, so I bumped up the temperature a notch... with the result that it FROZE EVERYTHING! Now I've moved the temperature setting back to where it was, but everything is still frozen solid.

    Exhibit A:

    Exhibit B:

    It's ruined lots of vegetables and an overpriced (but so tasty!) bag of pre-cut apple slices from Trader Joe's. Really... can't we find a happy medium?

  • Despite the refrigerator difficulties, dinner was still fabulous. Yes, I plate my food nicely even when I dine alone.

    Pressed wrap with blackened chicken, sriracha sauce, onion, red pepper, black olives, and some unnamed French cheese; chopped salad with most of the above, plus green olives, and homemade smoky tomato vinniagrette.

  • And let's not forget dessert! Even though I'm years from procreating, I'll take my Best Mom Ever trophy now, thank you...

    Giant Cookie recipe courtesy of Definitely RA, with a giant THANK YOU to whomever linked that recipe last week, I forget who! Ice cream = organic french vanilla from Whole Foods.

  • I've already been to the gym TWICE this week! 45 minutes on the elliptical each time, and I'm jumping in right at my usual 10-minute-mile pace. I feel kinda awesome--though my knees most definitely did not after the second day. Took yesterday off and I'm jumping back in today, hopefully with time to add in some weight training as well.

  • I need to lose 7 lbs. The giant cookies are SO not helping.

  • Will be shooting for short film project alllll weeked. I really hope we wrap this puppy soon because I am desperate for a hair cut! This mop is turning into the Carol Brady Shag... and that didn't even look good on Carol Brady.

  • I am hungry. Time to dig up lunch and sort out the rest of my day--like exactly how much stuff I need to lug to the gym into order to frumpify myself for this evening's film shoot without having to make a trek back to Brooklyn... wish me luck!

Wednesday, June 4, 2008


Good Morning Campers!

I may have been sucking at life on my own blog lately, but today I'm published over at Indie Bloggers so at least I'm not a total waste of space...

I am starting to get stressed about my upcoming travels. I mean, come on... this is me we're talking about. A stress-fit is pretty much inevitable.

There's still just so much to do... I went to the travel doc yesterday and got my malaria pills and travel diarrhea meds (fun!), and I was amazed that she agreed to my request to give me Ambien to help with the jet lag! OTC sleep-aids actually keep me awake, and the melatonin I used in Africa may or may not have been useful, so I thought I'd try the prescription route and see if it was any more effective.

She gave me a full prescription too, so that Ambien may also be helping with the pre-travel stress that's keeping me up at night... we shall see.

Also I haven't found a subletter yet. I've been trying to find one through friends, rather than go the Craigslist route, because it feels safer, but it does not appear to be panning out. Also I have yet to a.) tell my landlords that I am leaving for 2 months, or b.) talk about re-signing my lease before I go. Not that I think they'll pose a fuss, I just... I don't know. I have absolutely NO idea why I keep putting it off.

I'll do it tomorrow.

(How's that for not procrastinating?)

I also still have a LOT of reading to do, and I haven't finished my review board application to cut through the 8billion miles of red tape surrounding my research project next semester.

I am extensively glad that I am unemployed. If I had to deal with a job on top of all of this, I think my head might explode.

In the mean time I need to just calm down and remind myself that everything is going to work out just fine.

This is me. It always does.

Knock Wood.

Monday, June 2, 2008

Pass the Kleenex

As my Facebook status will attest, I just burst into tears at the end of 27 Dresses.

Turns out I'm a girl after all. Who knew?

Despite the fact that I have a hard time accepting little sis's complete 180 from self-centered and shallow to self-aware and wise, it was better than I expected. Hence, you know, the tear-fest.

And while I am not generally a James Marsden fan, JM + scruffy + cynical = tasty.

Oh, and the "favourite part of the wedding" so oft discussed? Is absolutely my favourite part of a wedding as well. I may not have been to 27, but I've been to my fair share, and I have a feeling that the chick who wrote this (because who are we kidding? it was definitely a chick) is a kindred spirit of a sort.

I also have a feeling that further ranting on the subject would cause some retroactive embarrassment tomorrow, so me and my tissues and my red wine are gonna go see if Deadliest Catch is on Discovery and try to regain some level of cynicism composure.


Escaping the Past

I'm not sure where to begin this one.

I've mentioned the Evil Ex Roommate on here in the past, but I've never gone so far as to air our dirty laundry to the blog world. The drama was so immense and so long-lived that I've done enough bitching about it to last two lifetimes, and I don't want to do any more. I have taken the high road, so to speak.

You know, aside from dubbing her The Evil Ex Roommate on my blog.

But lately, you see, she is trying.

We see each other from time to time at social events--we were friends for years and have a fairly large number of mutual friends. When I see her, she is generally nice to me... at times going so far as to actually instigate conversation.

She recently Facebook-friended me, and is now sending me cute little applications on a fairly regular basis. So I send them back... that's what 'book etiquette demands, right?

She's trying, so I'm trying.

I don't think we will ever regain the level of closeness we once had. When the final nail was hammered into the coffin of our friendship, it was like a bad break-up. One of those ugly, nasty, whole body starts shaking just thinking about it break-ups. One of those break-ups from which you never quite manage to recover.

But she's trying. And part of me... the part of me that gave her more second chances than Sami on Days of Our Lives... wants to let her. Wants to think that perhaps she's coming around and realized just how horribly she treated me.

But the other part of me knows... knows... that this is not the case.

First of all, she has not apologized. EVER. Oh sure, the words "I'm sorry" have crossed her lips or issued from her keyboard, but they are always immediately followed by three little letters...

B. U. T.

"I'm sorry, but you should have..."

"I'm sorry, but you said..."

"I'm sorry, but I was having a really bad day and even though there's no way in hell you could have known that, you still shouldn't have said that innocuous thing you said that set me off into a homicidal rage..."

She is and always has been incapable of understanding the impact her actions can have on other people, or that my reactions to her behavior were, in fact, perfectly reasonable. Therefore, when I simply cut off contact because I couldn't handle it anymore, I'm sure she felt unjustly slighted.

When I stopped speaking to her for several months while we still lived together, that was certainly the case. Mutual friends make excellent informants.

So on one hand I suppose I should be flattered that she is seeking to reconnect even though she believes herself to be the only injured party in this train wreck that was our friendship.

But a few minutes ago she popped up on my Google Chat and my immediate reaction was, "Oh god, I haven't seen her since _______, what could she possibly have to be angry about!??!"

It turns out she just wanted to let me know that I got a random piece of mail at our old apartment and wanted to know if she could open it to see if it was junk, yet this encounter illustrates that I am literally afraid to talk to her. Afraid to open up that gate and let her back into my life because as things stand right now, that could only lead to a repetition of the past.

Unless she actually manages to genuinely apologize; to admit that she was, at times, in the wrong; to recognize that her behavior was hurtful and that, as such, I had a right to be hurt; there is no way for this friendship to be resurrected.

Hell, to simply admit that I have a right to my emotions, justified or otherwise, would be a start.

And I know this will never happen.

So part of me wishes she would just go away, stop rubbing salt in this long-suffering wound and let me be. She cannot give me what I need, and offering less is like a taunt (god, the break-up imagery here is simply staggering).

But I can't help wondering if trying is the first step.

Putting effort into someone other than herself is a fairly recent development. Perhaps there is hope for her yet...