psy_galore

So of the people who read this - you have either found a cat, lost a cat, or hate a cat.

I just came home from the bars.  I stopeed at 7-11 for some tortila chips and nacho cheese sauce.  I went into the kitchen to heat the cheese and piering out from behind the lopsided curtain is a cute little kitty cat.  I stared at it.  It stared back at me with big green eyes.  And then Iclosed the curatin.  Hoping it would go away.

A few minutes later, I pull the curtain back and it is still there with longing eyes, hoping to come in.  I tell it, through the window, to stop looking at me like that - and all it does, is start pawing at the window. 

How did it get up here?  I live on the 3rd floor of a walk up that is separated from the street by two brick walls.  I always feared that if there was a fire, I wouldnt be able to climb over the brick walls, but how was this cat, so nimble as to find its way up to my fire escape at 3 am on a friday night.  Truthfully, I could be easily talked into letting the cat in.  Its so cute.  But I come from a long line of friends and exes who are allergic to cats, and I tend to take on the characteristics of those that are around me, so I fear that sooner or later I might be allergic to cats too.

So I heat up my nach cheese sauce, change my clothes, and teh cat is still there.

I do a couple more things in the house - still there.

I dont know what to do.  My downstairs neighbor Tyler, mentioned that the management company ok;d him getting a cat.  Is this the cat?  Did he do it already?  Its 3 am though, I dont want to march downstairs and announce that his imaginary cat is chilling on my fire escape.

So I make my nachos and og to the lviing roo0m.  By the time I get back, the cat is gone.

Oh well.  Could have made a good pet.

And yes, I;m drunk.

Sometimes I hate watching Sex and the City. 
I know I have said this before, but it's true.
It can be really dark especially when you find that it is speaking to you, like it does to so many women in so many different situations.

I woke up late this morning:  6:20 a.m.  to leave the house at 6:40.  Needless to say, I didn't have time to make lunch this morning, and with the dining hall closed all summer, I knew I would be shelling out $5-$8 to pick up lunch on campus.  Sucks, cause I managed to go all week without spending money on anything 'cept gas and groceries (and cover charge, and tips, and beer, and well no more than a typical week - but I digress) and here I would be squandering a few bucks on lunch when I had groceries that were purchased primarily for this purpose.  Ugh. 

So I head up the hill to the grad school to buy lunch in their cafe.  Hmm... should I get a sandwich on whole wheat bread or a salad?  I am contemplating my lunch choice... sandwich or salad?  When I see a grotesque image in one of the windows that I pass.  Eww?  Could it  be?  I stop.  I look.  And there it was, just the vaguest suggestion of an awful and debilitating condition known as Bootydo.   Now when I first heard of Bootido, it thankfully wasn't through personal diagnosis.  I friend of mine who teaches inner-city kids told me about a teacher in her school who the kids had diagnosed as having Bootido.  When I asked her what Bootido was... she explained that the teacher had "more junk in her tummy, than her booty do".  I died laughing (naturally, after doing a quick self-diagnosis and pronouncing myself clear of all symptoms of bootido).   Well, today, I thought I saw it.. I thought I saw myself with some bootido.  How could it be I thought, I workout.  I exercise.  I eat healthy (for the most part).  Why hadn't I noticed this before?

Well, I ran to the bathroom and lifted my shirt.  If I had bootido, there was one thing for sure.  I was getting the salad and a glass of water for lunch.  There will be no carbs for me.  Thankfully, I learned, that I was bootido free.  It appears that if I bloat my stomach out (you know how people do when they are imitating starving children) I do appear to have a slight case of Bootido.   Do I really bloat my stomach out when I walk?  That's gross.  So, I retook my course on the way to the cafe, sucked in my stomach, and checked myself out in every reflective surface I passed to make sure that I wasn't kidding myself and blatantly misdiagnosing to save face.  But as sure as I am sitting here, typing this right now, I do not have bootido.  As a precautionary measure, I was sure to order the salad and water for lunch, and reminded myself to up my ab workout later on at the gym. 

So after 6 weeks of a broken wireless card - I finally sucked it up and decided to just buy back a wireless card rather than wait for me to figure out what kind of computer I want.  So after $40, I'm back.  Let the internet games begin!

1st named storm of 2006 heads for Fla.

AP - 46 minutes ago

TAMPA, Fla. - The first named storm of the 2006 Atlantic hurricane season strengthened slightly in the Gulf of Mexico early Monday, prompting tropical storm warnings for the dry Florida coast. Tropical Storm Alberto had maximum sustained wind near 50 mph, well below hurricane strength of 74 mph, the National Hurricane Center said. At 8 a.m., the storm was centered 240 miles south-southwest of Apalachicola and was moving north-northeast at about 8 mph, forecasters said.

 

Yeah, and you thought I was wrong for calling him my arch nemesis....

So I am possibly consuming the worse lunch ever. It consists of a plate of broccoli, carrots, snap peas, steamed in the office microwave with a tablespoon of water. No condiments. No salt. Just straight steamed veggies. And a bottle of Fruit-2-O. The tropical fruit flavor. At least that part is delicious. I hate my lunch. But it's a means to an end.

I am on a 72 hour health kick to jump start my system back into Libby Lifestyle and the healthy realm that I once lived in a month ago. Not to mention I have my 5 -year college reunion in 4 days. But that's irrelevant.

Eww... this broccoli is disgusting.

Okay, back to work. Just felt like sharing.

A woman (very normal looking) walked into the Costume Shop on Saturday and those were the first words that came out of her mouth. What followed was a 6-minute monologue documenting everything from the social and economic aftermath of the Vietnam War to an examination of the Peace Corps application process, and a philosophical discussion of the War on Terror.

Her soliloquy concluded with an inquiry as to where the nearest Western Union was. She said that the veteran journalists she worked for were sending her a large sume of money that she was going to use buy a sailor suit at the shop. None of us knew where the Western Union was, and we would have gladly told her just to get her out of the shop. She whipped a little book out of her bag, flipped through some pages, and said it was on Harrison Street.

We all scrambled to give her directions to Harrison Street - and then she interjected - "Wait, I was raped and robbed yesterday. Please go slowly. Now again, how do I get to Harrison street?"

Cutie E took over and gave her pretty pointed directions. She repeated the directions and then gathered her umbrella and made for the door. She looked at my wig - and then asked how much red wigs were. Cutie E quoted her a price range, but that wasn't good enough. She needed more detail. So he gave her a 30 second run down on the pricing and selection of red wigs. Satisfied, she provided us with another 2 minute socio-political disseretation. And then as quickly as she came, she was gone.

It was a good 60 seconds before any of us said anything. We were all awed and stunned. Then Terry, our manager breaks the ice and tells Peaches to tell her friends to not visit her for so much time at work. We laughed and then recounted the situation.

For most of us, it was the first time we were held captive to *Crazy*, *Educated Crazy* at that! Usually, one encounters *Crazy* on the street in the form of a rambling vagabond, or a maniacal passerby, but it is rare than *Crazy* walks into one's place of work, delivers a speech, and leaves. It was frightening, beautiful, and amazing.

During the 6-minute speech, my co-workers, Cutie E, Crockett, Peaches, and I, experienced the same flood of emotions. Initially, sorrow at her opening lines. Then confusion at her political doctrine. Next, intrigue, as you begin to wonder if she is crazy or if she is just a stage perfomer still in character (we get all kinds at the Costume Shop). Eventually, you resolve that's it's lunacy, and it just becomes funny and awkward, and you're wishing she would leave so that you can laugh and reminisce about it.

Dear Readership,

I apologize for my failure to post throughout the last few days. As you can imagine, ending one job and beginning another, can be a rather tenuous point in one's life, and as I had been religiously posting on a daily basis - my cessation must have affected at least one of the five of you - so please accept my sincerest apologies.

Last week, in an attempt to update my readership while doing laundry, I sent my laptop flying into the dashboard of my car and broke my external wireless card rendering it useless and effectively temporarily cancelling my subscription of rogue wireless internet.

Okay, so with that said and done, let me aprise you of the latest and greatest of things.

In this post, topic(s) to cover:
- New job update 1
- Fireman Patrol


New Job Update 1
A few months ago Peaches and I decided to go to a *costume party*. We spent weeks agonizing over what to wear, and eventually settled upon slinky lingerie-style numbers. To complete her ensemble, Peaches needed a black petti-coat. We headed downtown early the day of the party to the Costume shop.
Since Peaches and I love to dress up, we were chatty and excited in the store and started to chit chat with the workers as we perused the assortment. When we told them what we were looking for, they directed us to the *fantasy room* in the back of the store that was complete with chain mail, dildos, lingerie, and fun and exciting hosiery. It was at this point that we realized that we could be hanging out in the store for a while, so went outside to dismiss our male shopping companion who was outside smoking a cigar. Prior to us walking out, one of the owners got pretty anxious and tried to stop us. We advised her that we were just dismissing our friend and would be back in a few moments.
We spent a little under an hour shopping in the store and trying things on, when finally making our purchases, the owner asked us if we would be interested in working there. She explained that she loved our enthusiasm for shopping and playing with costumes and we were the kind of people that she wanted to have work in the store. We filled out applications and she told us that the manager would be in touch.
Within the next few weeks, Peaches and I would swing by the Costume shop to check in on our applications. They knew about our job situation and wouldn't need us until summer so there was no real rush. Long story short - we eventually were hired (sans interviews) and were told we could begin working the first week of May.
My first day was yesterday. Since I already have a full-time job I can really only work on Saturdays (shop is not open on Sundays). In some respects the job kind of sucks. It's a retail job. So you are on your feet all day. You are pulling stock. Ringing up sales. Helping customers. Being pleasant.. etc... However, the people we work with are AWESOME and the perks are amazing.
Okay - so the people first. One of the guys, is a young married farm boy from Colorado who wears his hair in a long black ponytail that is pretty hot. Another one of the guys, is a cutie patootie art student at Mass Art. Peaches' favorite is the kid with the piercings who moonlights as a Living Statue in Faneiul Hall. Our manager, is this really awesome guy in his mid-late 30s who told us in the rules that sexual harassment is encouraged and that we could have anything in the fridge except his beer or his vodka. I had to respect that.
Most of the days that Peaches had worked she said it sucked. She was standing all day and was really busy because the owners were there. But Saturday was great.
Mainly we pull stock and help customers - but we can wear WHATEVER we want while we do it. So Peaches and I wore about 3 wigs each that day. I also wore some finger cuffs that came from the fetish area along with a bunch of plastic rings that I found in a jar on one of the counters. I also found a Native American headdress so I put that on with one of my wigs and looked like a goth lil Kim with a Native American twist. We were given the guidelines that we could wear whatever we wanted in the shop, as long as it didnt interfere with our work - like really big wings might slow me down when loading shelves.
Also, we were told that during October for the Halloween rush, we can work as many hours as we want, and if we want we can wear costumes and dance in the windows all afternoon. The owner will come around and give us booze too if we want it.
Some girl in Boston was having a "Wig-o de Mayo" party on Saturday night, so we helped several people pick out wigs which was pretty fun. After working all week and drinking all night on Friday, it was tough to work a full 8 hour day on your feet - but the staff kept it fun, and by late afternoon the time was just flying by.
I'm a little nervous about working a second job, especially when I am planning on going to school again the Fall and I am currently starting a new job... but I think once I get used to it, it'll be pretty fun since it's only one day a week and you get to learn a lot of cool stuff (like the difference between pancake makeup and grease makeup on stage) and meet a lot of neat people. Once I get a digital camera, I'll post some photos of me and Peaches in the various wigs.
Plus, did I mention that they are redoing their website and costume rental book so Peaches and I will get to model and take photos in the various costumes? Awesome, huh?

Fireman Update
The Fireman and I spoke twice last week.  Both conversations were fairly brief as he was at the Firehouse.  No new developments yet.  All we know is that he is 25, Half Haitian-half Puerto Rican, and speaks Spanish.  Hopefully he will keep calling and we will get to me up soon.  He seems like a really cool guy.

So I have decided to post the chronicles of Senior Week in a series of posts entitled Senior Week Post-Mortem.  I will probably get through most of them by the time I finish doing laundry tomorrow which is nice.  This post is not part of that series - merely an update on the day's activities.

I am feeling a lot better than when I posted earlier this morning.  I turned my phone off and went back to sleep shortly after my post.  I woke up around noon and debriefed with Peaches on the night's activities and our plans for the rest of the day.  I explained my depressed feelings to her and although she wasn't there in her own emotional journey yet - she understood, and decided we should do some *feel good activities* later on tonight.

By 2:30, I managed to make it out of the house.  I put on a cute little outfit - a long sleeve half shirt and jeans figuring if nothing else - I would at least look good today.  I didn't put on makeup - I didn't have the strength or patience for that - and I only put on contacts because I wanted to wear sunglasses.  I pulled my hair high up in a ponytail - grabbed my man purse and headed down to the office.  I needed to retrieve the rest of my belongings - finish burning cds, and play on an uninterrupted internet connection.  It was a little chilly in Boston today, so I stuck out a like a sore thumb strutting down the street half-dressed.  I looked I was emerging from a late day walk of shame: no makeup, sunglasses, hoochie outfit, and a cup of coffee.

Peaches was already at work by the time I got there.  We talked about where we were going to go later tonight.  I suggested Foxwoods for Bingo - but upon doing some research, found that tonight was the only night in April where Bingo was being replaced by a fight.  Who knew those were substitutes - go figure? 

I called the Alpha Male (who also dips and dabs in Casino Bingo) to find out where in this state or Rhode Island we could go.  He suggested to check out the Massachusetts lottery  website for churches and rotary clubs that may offer it.  Surely enough, there was a plethora of locations in the state that offered bingo - and about 8 that were local on a Saturday night.  After calling around, we landed on St. Catherine's Church in Porter Square.

It took us a while to get there since I don't really travel much on the Red Line and am unfamiliar with anything in Somerville outside of Davis Square.  At any rate, when we get to the Church - there is a fire truck and ambulance outside.  We go in anyway. 

As we check the place out -  I notice the firemen hanging around by the soda machines.  Was there an electrical fire behind the Pepsi machine?  Instead of a fire, I noticed a hot piece of ass that we will henceforth refer to as *the fireman*.  The fireman noticed me checking him out, we smiled pleasantly to each other, and I entered the bingo hall/church basement with Peaches¹.  I try to tell her about the cutie fireman but she was too focused on getting us started since we were late, and the first game had already begun.

We pay for our cards and are sent to the kitchen to buy bingo markers.  In the kitchen, we hurriedly purchase a bingo marker and rush out to find seats.  That was when I noticed that the fireman was still by the vending machine but this time I had a better view.  Our eyes locked.  My eyes betrayed my brain and gave him a look that said "Damn, you fine."   Dialogue ensues:
Me(flirtatiously): Hi!?!
Him (fliirtatiously): Hi!?!
We exchange hard glances and I scamper out the kitchen behind Juli - I tell her to sit somewhere near the kitchen so I can keep making eyes with the fireman.  We find two seats and start marking our cards for the game that's in progress.
As I stared at the kitchen door, something took hold of me, and next thing I knew I was digging through my bag for a pen & a sheet of paper.  I jot down my name and number and watch the kitchen door, all the while, still marking my bingo card.  I saw the EMTs wheel an old white lady out on a stretcher with an oxygen mask while the fireman left through another set of doors with what looked like the husband of the incapacitated woman.  The minute someone yelled bingo I grabbed the sheet of paper and ran out the front door.
I got outside and realized I had left my coat, so I was just standing in the cold with my stomach exposed and  looking around frantically when I saw my fireman look out from behind the back door of the ambulance.  All  of the other firemen and the EMTs were there too so it seemed like they had just loaded the woman into the ambulance. 
I walk up to the Fireman and say, "Yeah, I know this is inappropriate but here's my number," and hand him the scrap of paper. 
He says, "No, it's all good.  When do you want me to call you?"
"Um, whenever, we're going to be hanging out here for a little bit, but maybe later tonight?²"
"Sure, I'm Melvin by the way.  What's your name?" (We shake hands.)
"Monique."
"Alright, so I'll give you a call later."

I scamper back into the church... skip down the steps and tell Peaches, "His name is Melvin and he's supposed to call me later."

I relay what happened - and we joke about how inappropriate it was.  For the rest of the night, she bursts out into little chuckles at random points saying, "I can't believe you gave your number to a fireman while he was saving someone's life". 

In truth, I can't believe it either.  It's pretty uncharacteristic of  me.  Usually, I sweat over the details of something like this and drag my feet until it's too late. 

The fireman hasn't called yet.  I hope he does cause he's a cutie pie- but even if he doesn't, I'm glad I am apparently learning to take action on things that interest me. 

Peaches is just glad that now she has a fun story to tell our other friends.  Earlier tonight she said, "I can't wait to tell people you gave your number to a fireman at a Bingo game?"






_¹He's black.  (not that it matters but I like to provide complete details)
²Peaches and I were the youngest people in the Bingo room by at least 15 years.   I was also one of like 6 black people there.

It's official.  Senior Week is over.  I've been laid off.  And I feel terrible.

This morning I woke up fully clothed (contacts in and all).  I lifted my head slowly checking my body for any signs of a serious hangover.  Nothing yet, but  It's 7:05 a.m.  I got home at 2:45 am so that means I am probably in for a late hangover around 2 today. 

I check my apartment for the usual mishaps... did I lock the door?  Did I bring home my wallet?  My credit card?  My cell phone?  Check.  Nice.

Then I realize, that I am experiencing something else.  Something less familiar than a hangover, but a feeling that is four times worse.  I've gotten like this a few times.  The first time was when my parents left the campus after dropping me off at school and I felt completely and utterly alone.  Another time was after New Years one year, when I felt that all I had left to look forward to was my birthday 9 months later.  Now I am sitting here in one of the darkest and most depressed funks that I have ever experienced.  I feel miserable and like crying and not leaving the house all day.  And it's 8 am on a Saturday morning and I can't even call anyone to talk about it.

I can't tell if it's the full week of drinking that has finally left me in this emotional state.  Perhaps it's all the drama from last night?  But I think I know better.

All week people have asked me about whether I was sad about work ending or whether I was excited about my new job.  The answers to both questions were "not really".  I was just chililng and trying to make it through Senior Week.  Now I realize that was all just a front.  Senior Week was a mask to hide and not deal with the resulting emotions of a pretty dramatic life change.  Suddenly, I am sad about work.  Not excited about my new job.  Pissed about my night.  Apathetic towards Spain.  Angry about having to go back on Libby Lifestyle (took senior week off)... What a mess!  My severance check doesn't even do much to console me. 

If I don't fall back asleep in the next hour I will try to do soemthing with my life.  I still need to buy tickets to Spain.  Get a new computer.  Do some laundry and drop film off for processing.  There are things to do... but suddenly nothing seems that exciting anymore.

Oooh... it's going to get ugly.

It's graduation day - the end of Senior Week. We just got our checks, and guess what - our severance checks are wrong.

At any rate - I am on outfit #1 - a little thing I made this morning, a polo shirt cut into a halter top and a pair of mens sean john jeans made into a mini skirt. Around 2 I am going to go home, and change into outfit #2 - a sleeky little black catsuit held over my breasts with doublestick tape.

No confirmation yet on OC. Called him last night - no answer - so I didnt leave a voicemail.
NC arrives at 5.

Monday - Paintball was good fun. There was only 7 of us - and with the exception of catching a paintball in the mouth, overall, it was a great time. Small group - but a good group. No drinking Monday. Got home at 8 in time for Prison Break.

Tuesday - Happy Hour at Sidebar. Stayed out way too late with the Sniper and some other folks. We closed the bar down and hung out with the owner till 12. Also, went to the dentist - and got a pole put into my mouth for where the implant is going to. It's strange - my tongue cant help going over there and playing with the pole.

Wednesday - Best day of Senior Week so far. We had field day today - softball, volleyball, kite flying, trivia, etc.. with the whole company on the common. Complete with breakfast and lunch. I dressed up like a gypsy (kinda) and brought my ghetto blaster and played mad tunes on the bleachers with my crew. Came home - did a wardrobe change into my evening dress and then we went and had a waterfront reception behind the Museum of Science - the food was delicious and the open bar (beer and wine) was flowing. Everyone, went balls nuts. We were playing asshole, kings, etc.. with Senior Vice Presidents. So FUN! We all got pretty shitty and then headed over to another bar at 8 when we shut down the Museum party. I just now left the bar - the music at the Museum was fun and we were all dancing and shit - and then the next bar, Sweetwater cafe got all lame, and had this racist ass Juke box where the only black artist in it was Bob Marley. It was everything else from ACDC to Weezer - no hip hop, no reggae ('cept bob), no latin music ('cept Santana). I talked to the manager to get some better music - no dice. I also tried to get my boy from systems to rewire the jukebox/speaker system to an Ipod but to no avail. So, I went on a recog mission to find a better bar in the hood - and there was nothing. Wednesday night in this neck of the woods is busted - so I am home. Drunk. Maybe? Hungry? A little. So, I am about to go cop a Stouffers Lasagna that I got at Store 24 and grub on that. I am off the Lifestyle for Senior Week, but still required to work out in the morning.

As for the rest of the week... booze cruise tomorrow, and Last Chance Dance on Friday. Confirmed: NC is coming here on Friday. Uncofirmed: Is OC coming here on Friday? I emailed him - and no love on the response. So I am confused and bewildered. I really want him to come - but if he doesnt show - I guess I am going to have to make it an NC night. We'll see...

Vote for me for Homecoming Queen.

Thanks!

Today was the 2nd day of Senior Week.
Already I am exhausted.

I don't know where to start so I will just run through a timeline.

Friday Night: I go shopping for my Associate Discount day and for my Senior Week outfits. Get home late. Wash my hair and prep it for Saturday's behavior.  Go to bed around 2.

Saturday: I wake up late - like 11:00, go to the gym with Peaches at noon.  Workout till 1.  Shower, eat, and start my hair at 2:30 p.m..  2:15 a.m. I finish my hair, write a post - go to sleep.

Sunday: I wake up late (again) but figure I went to bed at 3 so it's ok.  Go to the gym around 11.  Shower and eat.  Start cleaning the house around 1 p.m.  4:00 rolls around, I go to Church.  (more on that later) 6:00 I head to the Senior Week BBQ.  After several games of "F*ck the Dealer", "Asshole", "Up the River, Down the River" and a Beirut (Beer Pong in CT) tournament, I am getting kind of drunk - so what do we do.  Pick up an 18 pack of Natty, head to someone else's house and then go to a bar.  I had a good time but mosey'd home around 12:30.  Peaches stays out.  1:00 a.m. I call her, make sure she is okay, and verify our meeting point to teach Monday's JA class.

Today: 6 am - my phone rings.  Peaches stayed at a friend's house -  lost her purse, doesnt have her keys, and needs to come over, borrow some clothes and take a shower before I class.  I wake up - jump in the shower and stew for the next 15 minutes.  Peaches comes by and is drunk/hungover - with constant exclamations of how she is dying.  I am unsympathetic.  It's 6 a.m. - I was supposed to be at the gym and we have to go teach 30 8th graders at 8 am.  I could tell the rest of the day would be in shambles.  I get dressed - Peaches decides that we have to call out of the class because she is too hungover to teach.  I go to the gym.  Come home - take another shower - leave Peaches on the couch and go to work.  Work ispretty much a disaster.  I'm fairly hungover (I only had a hamburger, a yogurt, and some crackers on Sunday) - I have a ton of shit to do - and I keep getting visitors.  It's redeemed by the fact that having gone to the gym helped release some happy feeling endorphins and that my cohorts from Sunday night start an email chain about how hungover they are and how fun last night was.  This goes on for the rest of the day - until finally, at 2 p.m. - I become hostile towards all new visitors and buckle down to try to finish some things off my list.   The day gets better when we meet for the Senior Week activity - Paintball at 4:30.  Only 7 of us showed for Paintball but it was a good time.  All up until - I caught a Paintball in the face.

If you ever did paintball before you would know it stings like fuck - and can often leave welts and bruises if the paintball catches open skin.   You are given masks that cover 80% of your face - but I got nailed from the side at the exact time that my face was tilted upwards-exposing the part the mask doesn't cover - so I caught a paintball square on the mouth.  Paint splattered into my face and whole body broke into chills.  Of course, my assailant kept shooting me -  so I had to come out of the game.  By the time that round was done - my face was stinging and I was spitting out paint.  I iced my face for a while.  It stills looks a little swollen and puffy to me.  I wouldnt be so mad if this wasnt senior week and I run the risk of being immortalized in photos looking like I just got beat by Mike Tyson.   Also, because it's senior week  I run the risk of running into OC, NC, and all kinds of other people from my past - which is simply not hot if my face is all puffy and red.  It doesnt matter what I wear.  It'll just be not hot.

In addition to the already shitty day - I began to clean my closet yesterday.  Never finished so now my apparent is a mess - and although I am off tomorrow, I have a ton of shit to do - like go to the cleaners, the dentist, clean the aprtment, etc... all before 3 pm - the next Senior Week activity. 

So rather than stress out about all the sleep I need - and all the shit I have to do... I am going to ice my face - take some ibproufen - say a prayer - and go to bed.  Hopefully, I wont wake in the morning with a bruise on my face to match the ones on my thighs.

So - this is it folks.
15 months after the merger was announced - on Friday, April 28 - I am laid off from my job and I couldn't be more excited.

Tomorrow marks the first day of Senior Week!

There are events set up for every day to celebrate this major transistion. We even set up a Senior Week Committee and there will be a Senior Week Pageant - complete with a crowning at the end of the week.

Here are the events for Senior Week:
Sunday - BBQ/House Party
Monday - Paintball
Tuesday - Happy Hour
Wednesday - Field Day & BBQ Dinner at the Museum
Thursday - Booze Cruise
Friday - Pub Crawl & Last Chance Dance

More details about Senior Week can be found on our Myspace page: www.myspace.com/filenes

In light of the occasion - I decided to change my hair again. I wanted something wild, but not too wild since I am starting a new job soon. So I reverted to the fuschia/black hair color that I initially hated but then loved back in October. This time it's braided insteaded of weaved in. Since I am getting laid off, I spared my self the travel and cost of getting this professionally done and locked myself in the house all day and did it myself.

11 hours and 45 minutes later... it doesn't look bad - but I don't love it. The pink is really pink. Very bright. Since it's all still very stiff - if I weer it down I look like I have bright pink & black dreadlocks - although individually the colors are more brown and merlot like. Realistically, I will learn to love it. Last time I used a similar color, I was really embarassed by how red it was - it looked mad ghetto and I felt very punk. Then it grew on me and by the time I took it out - and went with something more "tame" I really missed it. I had learned to use makeup and clothing brilliantly with this hair color before and hopefully I can do it again. I figured this would be a fun way to end my job at FK and kick off the summer. Now, I feel like it might be jarring if I rock this to my new job - considering I met my boss for the first time last week and my hair was chin length and black. Oh well. The nice thing about doing it myself is that if I take it out in a week - I am only out the $35 in materials and 12 hours of my weekend.

But back to Senior Week - with Senior Week hair taken care of - next is Senior Week wardrobing. Monday - Tuesday I feel good about - but since I will participate in no sports with the exception of perhaps Double Dutch at Field Day, I think I might rock something a lot more exciting than sweats. The fashion Gods have returned with such brilliance this year, and have returned the hot pants as an exciting summer must-have. I plan on adding yellow and black to my collection of hot pants this year. Thursday's Booze Cruise we plan on making an "all white affair" so I want to get a white halter dress - circa Marilyn Monroe's Happy Birthday Mr. President - but way shorter. And for Friday - well, we'll see.

Friday might be jeans? a dress? all black (for mourning)? It all depends on Friday's guest list. OC last told me a few weeks ago that he was thinking about coming. I heard from Pete, that NC is coming. (Uh huh, you read that right - there is a possibility that Old Crush & New Crush might both be there) and then there is a chance that neither one comes out. In truth, that would make it easier - but not as fun, and way less drama-filled. And supposedly, my wardrobing shouldn't depend on that - but if OC does come out - I want to look sensation which is why I am eyeing this $54 ass hanging out piece from Rampage. I am trying to find a photo of it online - if I do I will post it - it's dead sexy though. I could wear it as a top with jeans by day - and as a dress with no pants and heals by night. I would defintely need bloomers with it - but it would be dead sexy. It's pretty pricey at $54 but I would wear it again - and did I mention that's terribly sexy. In truth, the world may not be ready for that and I definetly could NOT drop it like it was hot on the dance floor Friday. Well, I could, but that could be way more trouble than I am bargaining for.

At any rate - it's late - and I have a big day tomorrow. The apartment needs to be prepped for the debauchery that will unfold this week like pulling all possible shoes, accessories, and makeup items out of their stored locations.

This could be a big posting - if I remember it all...

It's late - and I am deep conditioning my hair. So before I pass out with my head plugged into this heating cap in the wall - let me say a few words about last night.

It's been brought to my attention - that every time I go *out* now - is an adventure. Last night, Peaches and I had a little "let's not get depressed because we are being laid off party" for the two us. 4:00 Trip to Hair Supply Store 4:30 Pedicures 6:00 Apps and Drinks at the Harvard Club 8:00 Skyy Vodka Party 10:00 VIP Open Bar Launch Party at a new restaurant.

I would like to preface the following remarks with the following impressive fact: Peaches' tenacity managed to score us 4 drinks each during 40 minutes of Open Bar of Hard Alcohol.

Okay, now I will continue. It was at the Launch Party when Peaches and I realized, that if we get our shit together, we have the possibility to take over the world. At least when it comes to men.

We are different enough so that when our powers combine we have the capacity to cater or attract a lot of different men. We are both tall - she is more slender and I more curvy. She is white and blonde. I am black and my hair color and eye color change with my outfits. If you like short women - dont come to us - but other than that, we are a formidable force.

Basically, I realize that the usual tricks that you see girls do to each other in a club to attract guys - like dance closely with their friends in what they deem to be "lesbian-like" homo-erotic behavior - well, if Peaches and I embrace even the tiniest bit of that - we could run the world - or at least the club.

There are a lot of wholes in my theory, that I will probably bring to light in a later post - but suffices to say that when we roll together, heads turn.

Last night, we were able to pool our powers and charm one guy into free drinks, dancing, and merriment for the two of us. Together, we can make one guy be the coolest dude in the club. You're a douchebag if you roll to the club with one girl on each arm- but a celebrity if you leave the club that way. And what if they are both cute - and they come in two flavors? What's better than that? Now, clearly, the game ends there. At least for now. J/K!

However, can you imagine the havoc we can wreak across Boston using this ploy? Now imagine this... what if I had ButtahP and FAP involved? We would be a regular United Nations! Now four girls and one guy would be too much - but we would be able to use our powers to take on 2 guys and usually they travel in packs of 2 anyhow (one of the wholes in my theory right there), but I am just saying... this is worth thinking about.

While Peaches is unemployed this summer, I will have her start drafting a plan for our World Domination Tour - it might take a few dress rehearsals, hand signals, and special code words.. but I think we are on the brink of something big.

People are funny.

I had the distinct pleasure to watch people and their funny nature in a sadistic ritual our society calls Jury Duty.  I had been waiting for the opportunity to observe my civic obligation for years, and when finally called to service, I obliged with a click in my heels and a smile so hard you would have thought I won the lottery.  No one could understand my excitement.  It's a lot of sitting, a lot of waiting, they would say - but I didn't care.  No sirree.  I was a proud member of our society and eager to join the democratic process.

When I showed up for Jury Duty last week, I had a full day to be dazzled and impressed by the quirkiness of mankind when applied to our American Culture.  The first wonder I encountered was the diversity of my so called peers.  Their in the first row, upon me walking in, was a black girl, not more than 18, dressed in Goth paraphernalia and looking morose and forlorn.  I was invited to take a seat and make myself comfortable by our court steward.  All the chairs were the same - about 60 wooden chairs in one room - some around the perimeter, the rest arranged auditorium style facing the steward's desk.  

I was probably the 18th or so that had arrived of my 45 *peers*.  Traditionally running on CPT, I took Jury Duty quite seriously, and woke up very early that morning to arrive at the courthouse on time complete with snacks, coffee, and a book.  Many of my peers failed to do the same.  They wandered in lost and bewildered - with the last juror arriving at 9:00.  I could have sworn all of our summons told us to be here at 8:00 a.m.  Is it possible that she was told a later time, or did she really just show up mad late for an obligation that could make a monumental difference in a fellow citizen's life?

I took a seat in the back row, which would allow me to quietly observe the room, but allow me ready access to a door in case I would need to exercise my overactive bladder.  I reached for my book, David Sedaris' Barrel Fever and began to scan the room - making a note of the characters that would comprise my inevitable entry over the experience.  There was the cute white boy who I obviously chose to sit near.  I wanted to make sure that in the event he looked up from his book and wanted to make light conversation, that I would be there waiting with bated breath.  In hindsight, I probably should have sat next to or in front of him.  People rarely turn to the person behind them to strike up conversation.  Then I realized something interesting that was happening with the seating - the auditorium style chairs were arranged in rows of 6 - where each group of 3 chairs was separated by a middle aisle.  Of the first 17 people in the room, some had chosen to sit in the middle seat, while others sat in the seats closer to the perimeter or bordering the middle aisle.  I wondered, what does that say about a person -the basis of their seat choosing?  For example, are the anti-social people the middle seat takers?  Clearly, no one is going to sit next to you until the room is so full that they have no choice.  Otherwise, they would take one of the outerseats that would allow them to at least have a one seat separation between themselves and their neighbor.  So on the flip side, by choosing an outer seat - did that mean you were more social?  Or just more knowledgeable of social morays judging open seating arrangments?

I tried to carry this logic over to the Southwest Airlines flight I took the next day.  Southwest has an open seating policy - and upon check-in you are assigned a boarding group letter, A,B, or C.  Once you get on the plane, you just pick a seat, buckle up and enjoy the flight.   I guess it's a little different on the plane, because there are clearly window people and aisle people, that like each seat for different reasons.  I never met a middle seat person.  Does anyone really enjoy the middle seat of the plane?

Today, on my flight back - we began boarding late, so one of the flight attendants makes the following announcement, "Look to your left.  Now, look to your right.  All the seats look the same so just take one so we can be on our way."  I was told Southwest gangsta.  I didn't know they were that gangsta.

Getting back to Jury Duty, by 8:45 the room was getting pretty full - so the steward began to explain the agenda for the day.  We were to watch a short video on the jury duty process, then a judge would come in and talk to us for 5 minutes.  Then we would have a 45 minute coffee break and then we would just come back to the room and be patient.  There were newspapers available up front, bathrooms to the left, and snack machines downstairs. Oh yeah, and although your telephone conversation may be very important to you, we were reminded that if we needed to take a phone call to leave the room in respect for our fellow jurors.

Sounded simple enough.

But apparently, people are stupid - so one person had to fuck all that up.  There was a hispanic girl who sat in front of Cutie.  Sometime after the coffee break she received a vibration from her pocket and upon answering it - chose to speak Spanish loudly on the phone in our previously noiseless room.  I glared at her to see if I had the power to burn a hole into the back of her head with my stare- but she never turned around.   Apparently my powers have diminished since high school.  I started trying to make eye contact with other jurors, to see if anyone else shared my frustration - but to no avail.  Everyone else kept their heads down and continued reading.  I thought about taking a fake phone call on my phone and then saying to my imaginary caller, "Oh, wait a minute, let me run outside, I am in Jury Duty right now and we are not supposed to talk on the phone in the Juror Room." I thought about even doing it n Spanish.  If she thought I was one of her people, she would be less prone to hate me later for it.  I decided against the whole project, figuring that if no one else could do me the courtesy of acknowledging their frustration, then I refused to take one for the team to eliminate the source of our collective annoyance.  It is possible that I may have been the only one bothered by the loud spanish chatter, despite the fact that I can speak and understand Spanish, but I doubt it.  As Americans, we are trained to dislike all public demonstrations of other people's nationality.  It's that which binds us together, as Americans - a collective hateration for all things American and non-American.  A beautiful paradox.

Once that situation dissipated, very few eventful things happened during the rest of Jury Duty.  I guess in some respects I am grateful to the Hispanic girl for bringing a little drama into the room.  We sat together in the room - from 10-1, when we were dismissed and told that no cases would be needing jurors that day and we had fulfilled our obligation for the next 3 years.  I joined in the collective sigh of relief - gathered my little things, and headed home to begin my vacation.

So a debate arose yesterday about the origins of Good Friday and the eating habits associated with Good Friday and the linkages between the Christian holiday and the Passover season. After some early morning research here is what I 've learned:

The last supper was the Passover Seder. It is argued whether that day was a Wednesday or a Thursday.
Regardless, that night, after the Seder, Jesus was arrested and tried. He was later crucifed between noon and 3 the following day and died circa 3 p.m.

The Jews didn't want Jesus's body hanging around on the Sabbath, so they told Pilate to cut him down. So Jesus was cut down and put into the tomb. The Sabbath was represented as Saturday - the 7th day of the week. This is why many modern Christians believed that Jesus died on a Friday, hence Good Friday.

The debate enters, because Jesus told folk that he would lay 3 days and 3 nights in the tomb. Back in those days, any part of the day was considered a day - so part of the day Friday, all day Saturday, and part of the day Sunday - where Jesus rose before dawn on Sunday. But that doesnt account for the three nights - so there are those that argue that Jesus really died on Thursday. Regardless...

At any rate, lets get back to the food. So, if Jesus died on the Friday - Friday is the day of mourning. Old school Christians dress in Black on good Friday and fast from meat. Meat (generally meaning the flesh of a mammal or fowl) was used to represent feasts and celebrations. So since Good Friday is a sad day, you leave those things alone. Then on Easter Sunday, which is a happy day, you get down with your celebrating again.

Many old school Catholics, don't eat meat on any Fridays throughout the year. Kind of in year-long commemoration of Christ's Suffering and death on that Friday. But Sunday is always supposed to be a celebration day, because that is the day Christ rose. For example, although many Christians fast during the season of Lent, Lent is really 46 Calendar Days because Sunday is a celebration day so you are not supposed to be fasting that day.

At any rate, what I thought was interesting about this is that Easter and Passover are linked but kind of not really. Obviously there are some fundamental differences between Christianity and Judaism, but I think it's funny, that Christians don't celebrate Passover. I guess we kind of do, in our own way, with communion (bread and wine) and the Holy Thursday dinner which is the Passover supper. And there is also so much going on during Holy Week that it would be hard to sync up and get Passover and Holy Week stuff done - plus you still have Lent going on, so that would just be a mess. I can't really tell if Passover and Easter overlap all the time. It doesn't seem that way since thay are based off of different calendars - but it seems like they always happen within a week or two of each other which is kind of interesting.

By the way - keeping kosher during Passover is hardcore, check this out: http://www.infoplease.com/spot/kosher1.html

It's amazing how diligent the human psyche can become when it comes to justifying the most unreasonable causes.

I have posted very little about my actual job.  However in 50 words or less I will simply summarize with saying that my place of employment has compensated me and hundreds of others for full-time perusal of the internet.  In short, work is a joke - we do nothing all day - and are being laid off in 2 weeks.  As a result, the company built a rec room with three ping pong tables and a foosball table along with a makeshift yoga studio.  Yoga classes are offered on the 6th floor 2 times per day.

At any rate, one of the Yoga instructors is also a member at the Sports Club LA in Boston where she practices yoga.  She offers my buddy a free one week trial membership, but since he is running the marathon on Monday, he declines the trial membership and defers it over to me.  I have been invited a number of times to experience the Sports Club LA, Boston's premiere athletic faciltiy, but I have just never got around to it.  Seeing how I am on an extreme fitness binge, now was a hell of a time.  So I grab Peaches and we head over to the Sports Club for their prospective member orientation tour.

I spent the last five days working out at the Sports Club LA in Boston and what I found there was truly just short of magical.  I never knew a fitness membership could be like this! 

For those less familiar with the Sports Club LA, let me break it down.

Ever ponder that?

Ok, some of you out there reading this may not know what I mean by that - so let's break it down:
    gangsta: (adjective) the act of being ostentatious, outstanding, and audacious
    real: (adjective) true, quanitifiable in existence

So the rephrase is: How quantifiable is your ability to be ostenatious/oustanding/audacious?

It's a question few people have probably pondered in that direct sense, but that doesn't mean you haven't seen real gangsta.  Example:
       Mike's prospective employer presents him with a financial offer that is less than satisfactory.  Mike tells the employer, "Call me back when you're ready to present me with a real offer. "  Mike exercised audacity in an atypical situation.  Mike represented gangsta.  Mike often represents gangsta in unusual circumstances.  Mike's gangsta is very real. 

I think that yesterday I learned of a gangsta that is so real - that it may possibly change the way I live my life.  I have been fortunate enough that my gangsta is pretty real.  Not as real as the aforementioned Mike, but real nonetheless.  The unconfirmed reports of this VERY REAL gangsta - has possibly changed the scale of what being REAL GANGSTA is.  It's like when scientists think that they finally figured out the boundaries of our universe, oops, there goes some other galaxy just outside of our current universe's reach - thus nullifying the previous conceptual  boundaries.  This is in essence what happened to me yesterday.

A friend of mine has been dating a girl for many years-5, maybe 6.  In fact they lived together up until recently and for reasons unknown to me they are still in regular communication however no longer share the same domicile.  I assumed they broke up but had simply remained amicable.  I was led to believe this since they were no longer living together and I had seen/heard of him being with many other girls at work in the last 1-2 years.  However, I recently learned that they are still together, and that he is still affectionate towards her and communicating regularly with her despite having the other women from work in his life.  I also recently learned that she does not know about the other women, in a sense, he is hiding it but only from her.  All his boys, coworkers, friends from college, roomates, etc... know about the old girlfriend and the girl(s) from work.  So I was forced to ask myself two questions:
                      1. Is he living a double life?  One with the girlfriend outside of work?  And another with the ladyfriend from work?
                      2. If the answers to the above questions are yes, is his gangsta really that real?  Is that possible?

You hear about these things on TV, men leading double lives, married to two women and things like that.  But you don't hear about your 25 year old guy friends doing it.  You know of people that are two-timing, but they keep it underwraps.  On the DL.  Out of the knowledge of close friends, family, and coworkers.  To do otherwise, is just unheard of.  In another universe perhaps... taking gangsta to a whole new level

Now when I first learned the details of this - I was appalled-but in truth, that's generally the reaction when witnessing someone else's gangsta.  However in this particular instance, since I am cool with both girls - I was particularly disturbed.  After some digestion, when I realized the breadth of what was going on- I quickly became excited and desperate to learn more.  It's like getting back to those scientists - at first, they think, "Shit, the universe has to be recharted all over again!"  But then they realize, "This is kind of hot!  There is some new hotness out there to explore.  Who knew?  Let's get started!"

Last night I slept soundly - despite knowing this disturbing fact.  The voices of playas everywhere echoed in my head, repeating only one important phrase, "Don't hate... Congratulate."