Thursday, April 28, 2011

Rain Rain Go Away!

When I was in high school and college, I had a really tough time taking psych courses because I always convinced myself I had something, or WAS something.  It's the same thing that happens now when I watch Dr. Oz.  (By the way, is that seriously that guy's name?  Really?)  I'm sitting there, just watching his program and BAM!  I'm knocked right into a panic attack by "Sometimes I get sweaty, and sometimes strenuous activity gets me out of breath, and every once in a while I like to lay down oh my GOD I have heart disease!  And it seems pretty advanced so I probably won't make it onto the donor list and I'm gonna DIE!  WHY didn't I make a bucket list?!  I'm so unprepared!"

I have decided I can't watch Dr. Oz anymore.  But psych classes are even worse!  Because they outline all these little underlying personality ticks that could maybe possibly perhaps mean that there might be something slightly off that you need to work with a therapist to fix.  There are too many possibilities to mis-diagnose!  Or ignore these symptoms as "nothing" and "merely my personality" when maybe something is really WRONG! Ya know?

Abnormal psych was awesome.  I was sure I had all kinds of personality disorders and maybe a little bit of DID or something.  Who knows, but somethin wasn't right with me!  Of that much I was sure!

So here we are again.  I think I have Seasonal Affective Disorder.  Not familiar?  The basic gist is that as the season changes you become depressed or have severe mood swings.  I have always noticed that I get much more lethargic during the winter.  I don't want to go out, I don't accomplish much.  Mostly I just want to sleep, and I'm tired a lot.  And then in the summer I'm bouncy and cheerful, less sarcastic, very productive, etc.  Also, the weather really effects me.  When it's rainy (like today), GOD help us all.  I'm so tired I can barely move.  I have gotten exactly nothing done.  And I can't motivate myself to work on anything that isn't happening RIGHT NOW RIGHT THIS MINUTE GO GO GO EVAC EVAC!

But an hour ago when the sun was out I was fine.  Now I want to go home and curl up with Twilight and Puka and read until I fall asleep.  Yup.  That's what I want.  Bad. 

Funny story?  I don't have Seasonal Affective Disorder.  I'm crazy, but not... like... clinically.  Humans are animals, and we have basic survival skills.  When it's darker out, we want to sleep.  When it's cold, we want to get warm.  When we're hot, we want to get cool.  So I'm just being freaking human... and I think there's something wrong with me! 

I need to leave the analysis to Lyss.  Seriously.  I clearly suck at it.

Wednesday, April 27, 2011

...Like a ___________ in church...

So I went back to Pennsylvania this past weekend for Easter.  Generally when people think of Pennsylvania, they think of Amish country, "Pennsyltucky" and chocolate.  They might think of Philadelphia and Pittsburgh... but mostly Pennsylvania is thought of as sort of backwards, out of place and conservative in nature.


In case you aren't familiar "intimately" with Pennsylvania yet (pun intended... you'll get it in a minute), let me tell you a bit about us.

Here is a list of towns in Pennsylvania:





And newly discovered just this weekend...

Fertility, Pennsylvania.

Intercourse has a bunch of little shops, my favorite being the gift shop that has hats, t-shirts, mugs, etc. that say "I <3 Intercourse".  <-- really?

Pennsylvania, although not one of the top most dangerous states, has the largest number of hate groups in the United States.  Awesome.

A lot of other towns that are NOT sexual in nature have the same names as German towns, since there are quite a few "Pennsylvania Dutch" roots in the area.  Pennsylvania Dutch are not the same as the Mennonites, which are not the same as the Amish. 

So being from New York, I've seen it all.  And I've told you about a lot of it.  So you would think that nothing in Pennsyltucky could possibly catch me off guard, right?


I can't decide if I'm being overly sensitive BECAUSE it's Pennsylvania, or if I''m getting old and crochetty... There are a bunch of whores going to my mom and Buzz's church!  Seriously!  I haven't seen that many stripper shoes in the club!  And soooo many dresses so far above the knee it was ridiculous.  Now, I'm not saying women can't show their knees, obviously they can.  But I feel like more than an inch or two above the knee at church is a bit disrespectful.  They make sundresses that hit  just above the knee!  That works!  No.  We're talking mid-thigh, people.  We're talking cleavage all over the place.  We're talking boyfriend's hand on her bare, un-nyloned knee!  We're talking about a girl that couldn't have been more than 16 wearing a strapless party dress!  (Don't get me wrong, I loved the dress.  But a skirt that short, with no straps, and no sweater or cardigan or jacket over it?  Not OK.)

So there was that.

My grandfather called me fat which, ya know... cool.  The man doesn't like me!  And nobody believes me because he only says that stuff when nobody else is around!  Whatever.

Which brings me to my next item of business.  I have fought against this since I started this blog.  I don't want this to be a weight loss blog.  Because honestly, even I can only focus on one thing for so long.  And I wanted this blog to be a good outlet for me, as well as a chronicle of life events as they happen. 

Last week (before my grandfather informed me for the 400th time that I am, in fact, obese) I decided I'd had enough.  I haven't been happy with my weight since 2002.  That's not good.  My brother told me he wanted to get a tattoo with me which I'm really excited about because I've wanted a tattoo for a really long time, and I know exactly what I want.  However, when I went home and look at the areas in the mirror where I had considered getting a tattoo, I didn't like any of it.  There was too much... like... everywhere.  Nothing was smooth and taut the way it should be.  And I realized I had let it go too far.  Much too far.  I consider myself a pretty responsible person as far as my career, finances, chores, family, friends, etc.  But I have been really irresponsible with my body.  I haven't taken care of myself the way I should.  (See also Cake Nights.  Ugh.)  And I know that the closer I get to 30 the more obvious it's going to become to me that I've let myself go.  No good. 

So last week was my last week to be irresponsible.  I haven't enjoyed my oblivion in recent years.  I've been guilt ridden and upset with myself.  So I did it up.  I had cake night.  I had homemade macaroni and cheese.  I drank whatever alcohol and soda I wanted.  I snacked, and I ate a big Easter dinner.  And then I stopped.  Sunday at Midnight I stopped.  That was enough.  I felt ready to do this.  This is not a diet.  This is me taking back control of my body.  This is me getting myself back to my goal weight.  This is me not slacking off and making excuses like I have for so long.  This is a commitment to health. 

Here's the plan:

I am tracking everything I do on which tracks your calorie intake, your fitness levels and your weight loss.  My goal is to lose 2 pounds per week.  I understand weight loss.  I know there are plateaus, and loss of momentum.  I know it's hard.  I know it's a daily struggle.  I am giving myself a year to get to my goal weight which is more than enough time.  But I refuse to be this way for any longer.  I need a goal I can actually achieve.  This is a goal I can achieve.  If I find that I'm not sticking with the Livestrong program, I'll join Weight Watchers.  I'll do whatever it takes, whatever extreme to get this done. 

I am also committed to every other day at the gym.  No excuses.  And if I can get some other activity in on the other days, great!  This week, for example, I'm going to the gym Monday, Wednesday, Friday and Sunday.  On Saturday, if it's nice, we will be renting bikes and riding around Central Park.  So that's good. 

I weighed myself for the first time in years on Monday at the gym.  I was where I thought I was.  Which was good news.  The bad news?  I'm where I thought I was.  Ha. So there's that.  I'm weighing myself once a week to track my progress, since I know weigh fluctuates day to day.  So the plan is, every Tuesday will be the weight loss blog. 

Don't give me that look!  Don't roll your eyes at me!  I need you guys!  I have Katie to report to about the gym, I have Maria to talk to about my eating habits.  I need you guys expecting me to do this!  The more people I have watching the better!  I feel the extreme need to impress...

As I'm writing this there's a Nutrisystem commercial on TV.  Don't worry, I won't be posting before and after pics, or swinging my hair around like some sort of freak acting like "Don't you WISH you could be as hot as I am?!"  Because.... no.  This really is important to ME.  I don't like myself.  And I find that I am constantly beating myself up over my weight, and then finding ways to make it OK.  But it's not OK.  I'm better than that.

So suck it, Grandpa!


That was rude.

..... I don't care.

What else happened?  Ummm...

Oh, I nearly punched my sisters boyfriend in the face on Thursday night.  That was cool.  He's a douche.  I just... I can't even describe.  He's my age and he's a child.  My gym teacher in High School told me once that if somebody has to start any sentence with "honestly", or "I'm being honest"... he's not being honest.  Guess how many times her boyfriend said that?  Also?  He tried to argue with me.  With me!  HA!  It's laughable!  I used to want to be a lawyer, and I have really perfected my argument structure.  And I remember everything.  And I will embarrass you.  And you might cry.  I'm just saying.  Ask my exes.  It's happened. 

I got to see Papa for the first time since Christmas.  He's so much fun.  And I spent the night at Michael and Charlie's house finally which was great!  I had to go get a bathing suit for their hot tub because I forgot mine.  Thanks to Target, I found a really cute strapless gray/silver suit that looked OK!  And it was only $8... can't beat it!

I think that's about it.

Oh, I thought of this when I was walking into work today.  It's random, but I wanted to share.

Have you ever seen an older gay man that hasn't ever been schooled in how to be gay publicly?  Like, maybe he came late to the party and was past his "prime" gay years?

Well... I saw one today.  He was wearing pleated navy blue pants cut just above his ankles, navy blue loafers and a pink button down shirt that hadn't been ironed with French Cuffs.... sans cuff links.  It was bad, y'all.  I sort of wanted to take him under my wing and let him know that he will NEVER get laid in this city lookin like that...

OK, that is all.  I haven't been around due to the holiday and what not but I have a blog plan now... and you better still show up!

please still show up...

Thursday, April 14, 2011

Hey so apparently it's Thursday already...

... but by already I mean FIIIIIIIIIINALLY!  Because this week has been very very blah.  The epitome of blah.  April and I are fair weather friends, and I mean that in the very most literal sense.  We are only friends when there is fair weather.  I actually used this image to describe how I was feeling yesterday:

It would only be more accurate if he had like 3 coffee mugs around him and a pillow off in the distance.  I couldn't wake up.  I didn't go to the gym.  I was late to work (that was actually not my fault.  My hate of the MTA grows exponentially every day.).  The weather seriously effects my moods.  Because today?  I woke up no problem, was on time to work, am getting stuff done that I've been putting off all week.  I'm like Wonder Woman! But without that weird costume that is often mistaken for sexy.

Anyway, the reason I'm mildly surprised that it's Thursday is that I never gave you a weekend update.  And people?  I KNOW you can't live without my weekend updates.  I am so fabulous!  I am so exciting!  I do the most wonderful and cultured things!  Ugh.  I should really go to a museum at some point.

Anyway, here we go.  So Friday I made plans with Miranda.  As you may recall, on Miranda's birthday celebration night it was actually my birthday.  And not only did I not get to buy her a drink, but everybody else bought ME all of MY drinks.  Wonderful friends I have, but seriously?  Ridiculous.  So I told Miranda that I owed her a dinner or drinks or cake night or whatever so she should let me know what she wanted to do.  She chose all 3.  And that was perfect!  So we met at my house on Friday.  Actually, Miranda beat me there and so she and her friend, Ana (and apparently my other half), went downstairs to the bar for a drink.

I made pesto.  LORD did I make pesto.  I had never done it before but was pretty confident I could do it successfully.  Ya know, because pesto is so TOUGH and it takes a fo real Culinary genius to make, and all.... Yeah. 

Can I tell you how many compliments I have gotten on this pesto?  The girls couldn't stop eating it, and since I am pretty sure I made a whole boat load, everybody at work has been complimenting my leftovers! 

In case you've never made it before and would like to become famous like I have over this pesto, here's what it entails...

Basil (As much as you want.  Pesto goes a pretty long way, as I discovered.  I used like a pound or so.  GAH!)
Grated Parmesan cheese (or Romano, or something similar.)
Garlic (cloves, minced, whatever.)
Olive Oil
Pine nuts (If you want them.  I didn't use them, so maybe skip this step to achieve maximum fame?  I don't know.)

So... um... yeah so then you pull out your nifty difty food processor, throw it all in, and process away.  You add as much cheese as you like, as much olive oil as it takes to make it like a thick sauce, and garlic to your liking.  Add a little salt and pepper and vioa la!  Go collect your Lifetime Achievement award, you're done!

So I had pesto pasta with Italian sausage for dinner.  Miranda provided the wine, and boy did she!  Two bottles of white and four "single servings" of Riesling.  You recall my experience with "single servings of wine"...  So anyway, we had dinner, and then it was cake time.

That's right.  ANOTHER cake night.  That makes 3.  3?!?  Who needs that much cake?!  And I say to you, "we do".  Natalie joined us at about this time.  She has such good timing.

I gave Miranda a choice for her cake.  We could either do another white cake which I would color something outrageous (since the St. Patty's Day Cake was so popular), or she could have a chocolate cake with peanut butter frosting.  She chose the chocolate cake with peanut butter frosting. 

This particular kind of cake is very popular in my family.  So I immediately went to the source:  My dad for the peanut butter icing recipe.  Do you call it frosting or icing?  I used to call it ice-en-ing.  Now I go with frosting because I think it sounds prettier and I tend to continue saying ice-en-ing even though I am a grown up now.  It makes  me feel dumb.  Anyway.  I wasn't able to immediately get in touch with Daddio due to his busy social schedule, so I went to the second source.  Google.  I found a recipe that called for both peanut butter and cream cheese.  Honestly.  Is there anything better?  When I talked to my dad, he gave me the family recipe.  It's Nanny's recipe, and even though I know she really wouldn't mind at all, I felt super guilty changing the recipe.  But I did it anyway.  SORRY NANNY!!  Here's what I did:

4 cups of powdered sugar (confectionery sugar)
1 8oz. package of cream cheese (we all know Philadelphia is best, but ya know...)
1 tablespoon of milk
1/2 cup of creamy peanutbutter
1/2 cup of unsalted butter
1 tsp. of vanilla extract

This is basically a combination of the 2 recipes.  People.  When I tell you that this frosting came out.... actually I can't tell you.  There are no words to describe the perfectly sweet, salty, savory decadence that is that frosting.  There just isn't.  Clearly this is not a low-fat venture.  And to you I say "um.  Duh?  I don't know... go to the gym tomorrow I guess?"  People, it was so worth it!  Here's the finished product:

It is, again, a layer cake.  I have the peanut butter frosting in the middle.  I used a small tube of decorative cake gel to draw hearts around the edge.  Ya know, just to fancy it up a bit :)

Zilla joined us.  You remember Zilla.  No?  Here, let me remind you.

Here's her butt...

And here's her arms... remember yet?

How could you EVER forget that face??
So this is Zilla's new favorite spot to sit.  Under the coffee table.  She fits perfectly at the moment.  But I just have this feeling she'll outgrow it by the time she gets back to visit.  Zilla was, as I'm sure you can imagine, a huge hit.  Miranda totally bonded with her!  We all played with her between bites of cake.  She only had one accident inside the house, which I still don't understand.  We took her out like 3 or 4 times, and she would never go!  Whatever.  I needed to replace that bathmat anyway. 

Miranda had put the Riesling in the freezer to chill a bit since it was warm when she bought it.  We sort of forgot about it?  Because of the cake?  And the puppy?  And so it froze a little bit?

AND MADE THE BEST RIESLING SLUSHIES EVER?!  We pulled out the crazy straws and went nuts on the single serving bottles.  This is how the night ended...

Yes those are shamrock crazy straws, what of it?

Anyway, the girls left and John took Zilla home.  The next day I was planning to meet up with Katie (K80) and Bill since it was their last day in the city and I still hadn't seen them!  Unfortunately, Bill got sick and it was touch and go.  But eventually he went back to relax in the hotel lobby for a bit while Katie (K80) (is that annoying?)  and I met up for brunch.  We walked up to Columbus and 68th street for a bite.  A big bite.  And complimentary never ending mimosas.  Yeah we did.  The place is called Jalapeno, and you must go!  It's tiny, but absolutely delish!

I had two poached eggs over tortillas, hash browns and crab cakes with a chipotle aioli.  Katie (K80) (I'll stop that now.)  had a burrito and a mescaline salad.  We both had cornbread and a mimosa.  The meal was reasonably priced and so so good!  I wasn't hungry again until much much later in the evening.  So so good!  So we walked back down to Katie's hotel to meet up with Bill.  So that was maybe 20+ blocks which was a really nice walk after such a big brunch!  I went home and took a nap.  I decided not to go out that night.

The next day I slept in.  I hung out.  I worked on my resume, and was about to work on my stupid website when Alice rang.  She wanted to see a movie.. and so we did.  We saw Arthur.  I've never like Russel Brand.  Ever.  I think he's ugly and gross and obnoxious.  Until I saw Arthur.  And now I'd like to have dinner with him and Katy Perry.  It was so funny!  And cute!  What probably made this even funnier and cuter??

Alice. Snuck. A. Bottle. Of. Champagne. Into. The. Theater.

She kept saying that I needed to get a cup from the concession stand because "It's SUNDAY"!!  I figured she brought a drink like the college kids or high school kids do.  Jack and Coke in a Coke bottle, or vodka in a water bottle.  No, this crazy woman brought an un-popped bottle of Champagne to the theater.  When I saw the bottle in her bag I almost died.  We decided it would draw too much attention if we opened it in the theater.  So Alice took it to the bathroom and popped it.  We finished the bottle during the movie.  Now here I was planning on just having a nice easy Sunday. 

We'd see a movie, and then I'd go home.

... We'd see a movie, drink a bottle of champagne and then I'd go home.

... ... We'd see a movie, drink a bottle of champagne, stop by and get 1/2 price martinis from Alice's roommate, and then I'd go home.

... ... ... ok, 2 half priced martinis...
... ... ... ... One movie, one bottle of champagne, two martinis... and a beer with mozzarella sticks....

O geez.  And now it's 12:30am on a Sunday night, I'm drunk and must go home NOW!

So that was my weekend.  It was a lot of fun!  I plan on taking things a little easier this weekend though.  No craziness, just relaxing.  Maybe running a few errands.  But mostly low key.  But then that's how I thought Sunday was going to go....

(PS... all the pictures are mine.  Except for Eeyore.  I am going to give photo credit to Christopher Robin.)

Wednesday, April 13, 2011

Like standing in the middle of everybody's Wonderland...

So you know what I like about New York?  It's not only ok, it's encouraged to be oblivious to things happening around you.  Now, when I say like, I mostly mean hate.  Because this oblivious state of mind makes people walk down the wrong side of the stairs at rush hour, OBLIVIOUS to the fact that there are people trying to walk up the stairs on the correct side.  It makes them stand in the way of people fitting on the train after waiting for 3 already packed trains so they can get to work, OBLIVOUS to any one else's struggle.  

The oblivious state of mind makes people feel entitled, too.  Like the "homeless" guy that sits outside of my office every single day.  He doesn't ask, he DEMANDS that you spare some change.  He looks at you in disgust if you don't hand some over (I never do.  If you can show that much dedication to getting money, you still have something to offer society.  Do something!  I have much more respect for those people playing an instrument and asking for money.  Or dancing in the subways.  I do not have respect for the man pimping out his 9 year old son/Piano Prodigy.  I give them nothing, either.).  Or the 20-something guy that rushes onto the train to grab the last seat as an old woman, or pregnant lady, or small child teeters around, clinging to the pole for dear life.  Entitled. 

I can't tell you how many times I have been stepped on and directly run into.  People look at me surprised when this happens.  I can't tell if they are surprised to see that there was a living, breathing human being standing there, or if they are surprised to see an annoyed look on my face.  Whatever it is they are surprised about, I never get an appology.  The other day I was walking down the platform.  A guy in his late 20s to early 30s looks over, sees me, makes eye contact, and then steps DIRECTLY in front of me.  Again I am met with a look of surprise.  FOOL!  What in the WORLD are you surprised about?!

But this state of oblivion, this Wonderland we all live in, is necessary in New York.  You learn to not hear the rumbling of the train under your apartment and become OBLIVIOUS to just how many homeless people you actually witness peeing against walls.  You don't want to know what's going on in that conversation at the office, on the subway, in that back corner of the restaurant.  It will probably only cause you trouble. 

You zone out how many service men cat call to you on your way to work, or out with friends.  Seeing the Naked Cowboy and now suddenly Naked Cowgirls on the street doesn't phase you.  And celebrities are spectacle you'd rather avoid.  Talk about oblivious!  Last summer after the major bomb scare in Times Square, there was another bomb scare which turned out to be nothing.  But due to the earlier bomb scare, Times Square was evacuated.  I was working at Planet Hollywood at the time, which rents out the second level to E! News, and Mario Lopez corresponds from there.  Apparently Mario was on his way to film a segment, and the mere sight of him had gathered quite a crowd.  Everyone was so excited!  It's MARIO FREAKIN LOPEZ!!!!  Remember when he made the mullet hot??  This crowd was following Mario straight toward Times Square, completely oblivious to the fact that there very well may be a bomb less than a block from where they now stood. 

This oblivion that heaves you directly into your very own Wonderland is necessary.  I was talking to Katie (K80) last weekend while she was visiting.  A friend of her's and someone I've met on a few occassions is leaving New York and heading back home.  Katie was shocked, and said that she felt that this friend embodies everything that IS New York!  She's spunky and works in fashion, she speaks her mind and is a bit of a wild child.  But this girl admitted that she doesn't like what this city has done to her.  The oblivion, the Wonderland that she lives in has turned her into a mean, entitled, rude, crass person.  Someone she doesn't like.  This thing that she needs to survive in New York is the same thing that's killing the person she is.

I admit this is a fear of mine.  I feel the Wonderland that I live in surrounding me.  I hear myself call somebody an asshole when they are probably just really deep in their own Wonderland.  I realize that, as yet another packed train pulls into the platform, that I realize only 5 of us are going to squeeze onto this train, and one of those 5 HAS to be me.  All of these little inconveniences that I experience on a regular basis are things I feel like I shouldn't have to deal with.  That they aren't my problem and I shouldn't be responsible for figuring it out.  "Hello?!  Shouldn't there be another train here like NOW?!  Aren't they aware that it's rush hour?? How are they gonna let trains run behind schedule when I'M trying to get to work??"

I had friends visit me about a year ago, and my best friend since 8th grade made a comment about my inner bitch coming out.  I laughed it off, but then the DJ agreed that I had changed.  It made me nervous.  What if I was changing?  What if this city got the better of me?  What if it started to change me into somebody I don't like?  I could always stand to be a bit more ascertive.  But not so much aggressive.  Is the oblivion helping me, or hurting me?

Will I become an Angry Tyrant?

Will I go Mad?

Will I get out alive?
 (Just for the record I am not taking any credit for these pictures but they are not properly credited on google images either, so... yeah... bite me on copyright laws.)

Thursday, April 7, 2011

I am just all over the place today...

So this post is rather random... which I guess is pretty much like every other post I write.  But THIS post will be in list form, which is in fact, DIFFERENT from at least most of my other posts.  So here we go:

1.  I have Etsy fever.  Seriously.  I have been on there all day.  My "cart" is now full of stuff for me to buy.  There's a really cute handbag that's a bit more springy than my current black leather Steve Madden monstrosity.  I found a table that goes pretty well with my new room decorations that I could use when I move in with a roommate for my make-up and hair stuff so that I'm not hogging the bathroom for hours (Because I'm a GOOD roommate!)  and I could just put it up against a wall and hang a mirror over it to see what the heck I'm doing!  Way to be innovative, CFunk!  And then my wheels started turning, so this suddenly has turned to an outline format.
              A. I found a painted canvas that I really loved.  It's the same colors as the two posters already in my living room pictured in this post.  I have decided, for now and until a future roommate says they don't like it, to use a peacock feather as my color pallet to accessorize my living room.  So the picture I found was perfect.  That got me thinking about the two posters that I have sadly thumb tacked to my wall.  Finding frames for 18" by 24" posters is not an easy task.  Most run you at least $180.  The ones you find on sale are not good.  Whatever.  I was considering building wooden frames myself, or constructing a sort of wooden "box" that I would decoupage the posters onto and then hang.  And then I got it.  Why not combine the decoupage idea with the canvas idea??  Is that possible?  Can I do that?  So I Googled.  Because it's the only way I know to research anything anymore.  And yes!  You CAN decoupage posters onto canvas!  Even better idea!  Create a textured colored frame by getting a canvas slightly larger than your poster!  Tape off where the poster will be, and paint the edges however you want!  Great idea!  And so there's a new project for me!
                                   i. This got me remembering that I still need to order the paper for my original decoupage project (the dresser).  So that will happen tonight so that I can complete that!  The dresser and nightstand already look so freaking cool!  Finished they'll look amazing!

                 B.  While I was looking through the website and falling in love with each click to the next page, I realized that I could actually sell something on Etsy.  I paint glass.  I made a set of margarita glasses for my mom.  I made Christmas Tree ornaments for my entire family this year that everybody loved.  It's relaxing and fun for me.  But I only ever do stuff when I need it, so I don't get to enjoy it as much as I would if I was doing it all the time!  Plus to make money doing something fun like that would be cool!  So I think I'm gonna.  Why not, right?  Worst thing that happens is nobody buys it, right?  So yeah, gonna do that!

2. So beyond my creative juices flowing rapidly (ew, right?  That kinda sounds gross...) I am revamping my Events resume.  When I met Wendy the other week I was SO impressed with her resume, and was suddenly kind of embarrassed by mine!  So I'm using hers as a guide to bring mine up to speed.  Maybe this will lead to going back to working on my website that I currently hate and to start handing out my card to vendors.  I'm not great at that.  I'm not great at handing out my card to anybody, actually.  I'll keep you updated on all that.

3.  Tomorrow is another cake night!  I'm making Miranda dinner and cake for her birthday a couple weeks ago since I didn't get to actually buy her a drink at her celebration, and somehow ended up getting everybody else to buy MY drinks... weird.  Anyway, I'm making pesto pasta and chocolate cake with peanut butter frosting which should be pretty darn fun.  There will be pictures.

                   A. Zilla's coming!  Remember Zilla??  She'll be hanging out while John runs around a little bit.  So expect pictures of her cuteness too.  I'm always a little nervous/excited to see how big she's gotten since the last time I saw her!  John has already warned me to hide all the power cords and kitty litter (two of her favorite things to eat... oddly...).  Puka doesn't know.  Nobody tell her.  She gets so pissed!

4.  I have a TON to do tonight!  And I'm already 13 minutes late leaving work!  So I gotta go!  OK... OK.... have a good night!  Look for me on Etsy... ya know... at some point!  And I'll do updates on EVERYTHING I just listed in the near future!  OK bye!

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

Since it's already pretty clear that I have lost my mind completely...

I'm going to go ahead and let you in on another quirk of mine.

I've explained before the extreme flashes of anger that come over me sometimes, generally in the subway or on the sidewalk, usually involving people.  I've told you about funny things that happen to me in my everyday life.  What I didn't tell you is that, in my mind, I write these people letters.  Sometimes I write myself letters.  You've seen people do this in their Facebook posts, but I fo real do it all the time.

The format of these mind letters are usually the same:

Dear so-and-so,

Funny observation/ hate-filled insult no longer than a sentence or two.



And it's all the time.  I can honestly say that I write at least 3 letters every morning on the way to work.  Here are a few that I have written that I remember over the last few days:

Dear Owl Faced, Mullet Wearing Lady on the Subway,

You live in the fashion capital of the United States and you actively choose not to change that hair style?  Let me give you  a hint:  If the words "feathered", "Shorter on top, but keep the length" or "Business in the front, party in the back" are ever uttered when getting your hair cut?  Just. Walk. Away.

Love for the length of this train ride,


Dear You Jackasses Walking Down The Left Side Staircase at Rush Hour,




Dear Funny Conductor on the 6 Train Late Night,

Your satirical take on the complete absence of the E train on the island of Manhattan was clever and welcomed, and although didn't fix the problem, made it easier to take.  Keep it up, big fella...


Dear AARP,

I am not retired.  For the 4th year and 428th letter in a row, I am not retired.  That being said, your refusal to stop sending me letters leads me to believe that you will give me these benefits anyway.  Bring on the travel discounts, bitches!

Sincerely yours from Mount Caramel Senior Center,


Dear Gerber Life,

You.  Bastards.  I am not a caring mother, but thank you for pointing out that I have not only failed to bring life into this world, but I am also recently single with no real prospects with which to complete that goal.  Much appreciated.


Dear ConEd,

Why do you steal from me?  Why?  When you charge someone $82 to deliver $77 worth of electricity, that's stealing!  Please stop.

Pleading from the depths of my bank account,


Dear Dude at the Gym Nearly Crying Over His Hurt Leg,

You have 2 options.  1) STOP WORKING ON YOUR LEGS FOR TODAY BECAUSE YOU ARE CLEARLY DAMAGING THEM.  2) Man up.  If you can still work on your legs at all the pain can't be that bad.  Knock it off.

Me.  The girl glaring at you in the mirror.

Dear Every Commuter That Doesn't Seem To Understand Either Logic or Basic Pedestrian Rules,

1) This is a door.  People have to use it literally every 2 minutes.  If you stand in front of that door, PEOPLE CAN'T USE IT.  MOVE!
2) This is a walk way.  People. Are. Walking.  You aren't walking?  MOVE!
3) That empty space behind you is the middle of the train.  See how there are no people there?  See how there are 40 people stuffed into each other's armpits and other uncomfortable places by the doors?  MOVE IN!
4) Thanks for stepping out of the train to let people get out.  Unfortunately, you stepped out and stopped still right in front of the door.  You're not helpful.  MOVE!

So basically.  You there?  MOVE.


Dear Connie,

Pull yourself together, get your ass off the couch, and get stuff done.  GOD.

Love Always,


Dear Me,

Screw you.  I'm staying where I am.

Love you mean it!


And so it goes.  On and on.  Day after day.  Letter after letter.  Nothing ever changes, because I never say anything actually to these people.  One day I did give this girl that stood directly in front of the train doors at 8:45 in the morning, literally blocking EVERYONE on the train from exiting because she was perfectly positioned to be in every person's way a pretty good look.  I let me jaw drop a little, my eyes widen, eyebrows narrow and just looked at her, letting my head shake back and forth ever so slightly in incredulous shock.  She gave my reflection in the window a death stare for the rest of the ride... after she moved : )  I felt validated.  Death Stare away, chicky.  I think we just proved who has the better death stare. 

So there you go.  But please don't assume that you now have a grasp on the full extent of my crazy.  Because you have no idea at all.  I have SO much more to share with you.

If this wasn't entertaining enough, please venture over to the Bloggess for some of the best animal clips ever.  They are narrated by a man with a very effeminate voice and are just fantastic!

Monday, April 4, 2011

This is why I need a Blog notebook on me at all times.

O well helloooo there.  How are youuuu? 

So here's the deal.  I am currently inspired to write something, yet I have nothing to really write.  My mind is pretty clear (much like my desk for a minute).  This is a strange situation to be in.  Anyway, I decided that I would go for something light hearted, and this post is inspired by my dear friend and forever Roomie, K80. <~~  Katie, for those of you NOT from the early texting generation.  Get it?  K. 80.  K-80. K80. Katie.  Ugh.

We were having a conversation a week or so ago about our Sweettooths... Sweetteeth... Sweettooth as a plural like fish or deer?  I don't know.  That.  I capitalize Sweett... whatever it is because my Sweettooth is real, y'all.  It's a proper noun, living and breathing with a personality all its' own.  I wish my Sweettooth only had high class taste, but the truth is, although picky from one instance to the next, my Sweettooth does not discriminate between Little Debbie and decadent desserts from the Four Seasons.  We take 'em all!  Just.... only one at a time.  A specific one.  No, not that one.  That other thing.

Do you see where I'm going?  I mean, apart from the fact that this is, in fact, a whole post about my Sweettooth... a post that would make most writers smack their heads and say "My career is over.  I just wrote about snack foods."  much like Carrie Bradshaw dealing with HER writer's block and deciding to write about a french fry.  Miranda felt it had potential.  Carrie was disgusted with herself.  I?  Am not a writer... so we move on.

If we're going to analyze my Sweettooth, we would have to go back to my childhood.  I grew up in Hershey, Pennsylvania.  I was pretty much set up for failure.  Seriously!  5 minutes from my house was the Reese's factory, the Hershey's Kiss factory, and maybe half of a mile from my school (all 3, Elementary, Middle and High school) was the original Hershey's factory.  I literally woke up every morning and rode the bus right past the Reese's factory and smelled roasting peanuts.  I got off the bus at school and was bombarded with the smell of warm, melted chocolate.  When I was 15 I started working at Hersheypark.  In the gift shops.  In the candy/fudge shop to be specific.  Oh.  Yeah I did.


This is where it gets serious.  I gained 40 pounds when I started working there.  I worked there for 2 years.  At first it was just "OH, my GOD can you just believe all this CANDY?! Chocolate of every type, big chunks of fudge, Jolly Ranchers, Peach O's, Twizzlers!!"  and then it was all "Oh what?  So if packaging is damaged when we open the box we just mark it out and throw whatever doesn't fall on the floor into that box over there and it's all taken care of?  So, like... if I'm using a box cutter like THIS and... awwww... that bag of Hershey's Bites just got sliced into.  So now we just put it in that box and move right along?"


Good to know.

Do you see where I'm going with this?

GOD I hope this doesn't get me retroactively arrested!  What's the statute of limitations for stealing candy??  I really don't think I knew the magnitude of what I was doing!  DON'T YOU HAVE TO HAVE MENS REA (criminal intent) TO BE ARRESTED?!  I didn't have criminal intent!




This brings me to Halloween.

My family wasn't RICH.  We were comfortable, and probably better off than a lot of people (not that I would ever be able to tell thanks to stingy Ron.  That's a whooooole different post, people.), but we weren't "Stoney Run" rich.  We weren't.... wait for it.... "CEOs of Hershey Foods and Company" rich.

... But we were within walking distance of CEOs of Hershey Foods and Company rich homes.

Oh yes we were.

So you probably got the cardboard peanuts, and the black and orange wrapped candies (What were those, by the way?  I was a name-brand candy only kid, so I refused to eat those.  There was no label!  I had no idea what I was biting into!  There could be POISON in there!)... the tootsie pops and fun-sized candy bars, right?  Yeah I got those too.  For years.  Until I learned about Stoney Run.  Once I hit middle school I realized that my mom either ate or threw out the candy I didn't get to by Thanksgiving.  Probably a good idea on her part.  But then I started wondering why I was busting my hump trying to get that HUGE quantity of candy.  There was no way I could get through it all, so all that effort was a huge waste.  And I had started hearing rumors about "better" candy in Stoney Run.

What ARE these things??

So I went.  And my life changed forever.  People.  We're talking King Sized, Brand Name Only Candy here.  Also?  A lot of these people just didn't feel like being bothered.  So you had to be sure to get out there RIGHT on time to hit up those stupid people that left a bowl of King Sized Reese's Peanut Butter Cups (the long packs of's like hitting 3 houses in one package!) with the sign next to it that read "Please take one!"  HA.  Dumbasses.

So beyond my candy thievery (I'm so ashamed.) there were cookies.  I'm not sure why this is the sweet of choice in my family.  But it is.  My mom makes the worlds very best Chocolate Chip Cookies that I've been making with her for longer than I can remember.  My grandmother, Nanny, is very nearly world famous for her Sugar Cookies.  These are so near and dear to my heart that I still have one of her cookies frozen in my freezer at home that I refuse to eat since there will never be an original cookie again.  She used to keep some for me for whenever I came to visit her and told me not to share them with anybody.  When she found out that my mom would take at LEAST 2 cookies from me every time I took them back to her house, Nanny started making my mom her own plate of cookies so I could keep mine until I reached home (wherever that was at the time).  My family also does cookie baking day around Christmas.  It used to be one of my favorite days.  Recently I haven't been able to make it to many due to scheduling and travel.  We literally bake thousands of cookies that day.  Russian tea cakes, cookie cutter cookies, Kiss blossoms, Reese's blossoms, snickerdoodles... this list goes on and on. 

So after annalyzing my childhood brush with sweets, we now find ourselves in the present-ish.  I've always loved cheesecake.  One night in college my best friend Justin came into my apartment and said, with a sly eye, "I have a surprise for you... come over!"  His family had been in New York for the weekend visiting family, and Justin had brought back a Junior's Cheesecake.  It was sitting on the counter, and he had two forks in his hand.  My goodness that kid knew the way to my heart.  Had it been anybody else, I would have considered that a proposal.

I have indulged in Krispy Kremes, Crumbs Bakery cupcakes, fried Oreos and Snickers bars, homemade ice cream... O my goodness.

Now, I would say that all of this experience with sweets makes me some sort of Sweets Expert, right?  Can that be my new title?  Connie Funk: Sweets Expert Extrodinaire.  I like it. 

The thing is, my Sweettooth has become... particular.  Because it knows and has studied so many different types of sweets and is aware of the various ways each texture and taste can satisfy, I am only ever in the mood for one thing at a time.  A very specific thing.  No not that one, the other thing.

I REALLY dislike chocolate ice cream and chocolate cake.  UNLESS the chocolate cake is incredibly moist and has peanut butter frosting, or the ice cream is actually vanilla with chocolate sauce or fudge (like Hot Fudge Vanilla Shakes.  Try them.  You won't be disappointed.).

There are days when only fruity snacks satisfy.  So I want maybe frozen yogurt with fresh fruit bits in it.  Or a fruit bar.  Or Starbursts.  Other days, something carby like a doughnut, or cake or cookies.  Other days I just want Reese's for the love of God I don't care what kind or type or size just get it for me now Now NOW!


My Sweettooth is fickle.  I describe her as such:  Your Best Friend in Kindergarten.

"Jessica is my best friend in the world!  Yesterday I liked Kelly, but she wanted to play on the swings and I didn't FEEEEEEL like it because I wanted to play on the jungle gym.  So she got mad at me and stopped talking to me.  So then I met Sally at the jungle gym and she wanted to sit with me at lunch and I said ok!  But then Kelly didn't have anywhere to sit so I invited her to sit with us, and Sally got mad because she thought that I liked Kelly more, which I didn't then, but she started crying and doesn't want to be my friend.  So today Kelly and I ended up best friends and we swapped best friend bracelets!  Except then she colored in my coloring book so I didn't want to sit with her on the bus because it was the best page so INSTEAD I sat with Jessica and now SHE'S my real best friend."

Make sense? 

K80 feels that our Sweetteeth (I made the decision.  Sweetteeth it is.) would get along pretty well.  I said that I agreed, as long as she kept her pineapple on her own side of the pizza.  That's another post too. 

... I still really need that Blog notebook.