July 31, 2006

Why do they always come in pairs?



July 29, 2006

You live aound someone for over a year, see them on a daily basis, you say “hi”. You talk all the time, sometimes about serious stuff, sometimes just shooting the shit. And then one day you realize that they make you accutely aware of what it is you want and don’t want out of life. A person who makes you see things simpler somehow. It’s scary and inspiring at the same time-scary because you can’t believe you needed someone else to point out the obvious, and inspiring because you just want to jump out there and go find what you now know you’re looking for.

I don’t believe in soulmates, or fate. I don’t think that there is one perfect person out there for you, who will understand you and complete you unconditionally. If two people want to be together, there is nothing humanly possible to keep them apart. You move. You talk. You argue. You work at it. Whatever the need may be. But it is a conscious decision. Not fate. To me a soulmate is someone who helps you figure it out. Someone who knows you a little better than you know yourself, and doesn’t hold that information against you while scraping you off emotional concrete. Someone who allows you to do the same for them. No romantic connection required.

So, I found one. In a place I least expected to. It makes me happy. Even if it is me who is doing the clean-up.

Hot In Here

July 26, 2006

One of the AC units at work broke. It’s hot as Hell-literally. One of the system servers crashed. Service guys are melting. Meanwhile I’m freezing my ass upstairs. They can’t come and fix it until next week for whatever reason. Great.

Scarlet Letter

July 25, 2006

I have deep red-colored toe nails…. So not me. Butchy did the pedicure. I love it. So do the guys at work. Makes you wonder…..

So Sorry

July 22, 2006

I was really looking forward to the phone call. So much I wanted to say, I was semi-rehearsing the conversation. And when the time came, nothing coherent would even come to mind, let alone come out of my mouth. Am I one of those assholes who has forgotten to speak Bulgarian? It just did not sound right. It is difficult for me to speak it because I stutter so much-way more than I do in English. Don’t know why. I felt like a high-school girl who is trying to fill the awkward silence while talking to the guy she wants to take to the Prom, but does not know how to ask. 

Facts Of Life

July 22, 2006

For some, it’s a downward spiral. For others, it’s a freefall. Who do you think gets to the bottom faster?

I can see it coming. I’ve been observing it for awhile now, and it seemed as if it might miss me entirely. But no, it’s about to hit me head on.  Instead of turning the other way and running for my life, as I know I should, I just sit there and wait for it. Anticipating. Dumbass.

The L Word

July 19, 2006

Somehow Jen and I have become the pseudo-lesbians in the household. It all started a few months ago. We were food shopping at Trader Joe’s, and I had screamed at her on the other side of the store with a jar of peanut butter in my hand: “Babe, do you like the smooth or the crunchy?” People stared at me, then her, and kept shopping. She gave me a look, and that probably just reaffirmed it in everyone’s mind. My sister got a big kick out of the story. She started calling me “Boobie” and Jen “Butchie”-I’m the short one with the big tits, and Jen is the tall one, which automatically makes her butch. Sorry, Jen.

Since then we have turned into a couple-I’m going to her company’s party, and she’s going to mine. We go out to dinner and a movie on Saturday night and Happy Hour after work on Friday. We buy stuff for each other. We go shopping together. We have “a song”. If it was all real, it would be nauseating. That’s how fuckin cute we are. We just probably really want boyfriends, but hey, it’s working for now.

Guys get excited when they hear we live together. They imagine endless topless pillow fights, and we all know what that leads to. Throw my sister in the mix, and we could actually turn it into a legitimate business….

The Good Old Days

July 16, 2006

Tina and Steve (old college roommates), and I ventured out in New Brunswick tonight. We were feeling kinda ambitious, I guess, because we ended up at Olde Queens. You know those stereotypical college bars? There’s one in every American movie where the storyline revolves around some form of higher education, where barely-legal kids do 21 shots on their 21st birthday, girls way past their alcohol consumption threshold throw up in the bathroom, and then go home with boys equally inebriated. That bar is Olde Queens.

I hadn’t been there in a few years, probably around Tina and Steve’s last time, too. Yes, there was a really drunk girl puking in the bathroom. There was another one gyrating uncontrollably against some guy’s groin, who was happily reciprocating. There were the obligatory fake lesbians, looking for attention from anyone willing to supply it. And the suckers who were supplying it. Classy shit.

Tina said it was like a train wreck- “It’s just so sad, but I can’t look away”. Ok, so we’ve all done some shit. I, at least, remember mine. And I will admit to it if asked. The thing is, I just felt old, out of place. I did not give a shit what anyone thought of me. I had no interest in any one guy in the place. I wore my shorts and my flip flops, shook my ass to Mr. Timberlake’s new catchy tune “Sexy Back” (loooove it), and did not care.

Tina and Steve are way better at observing the dynamic between people than I am (and I am oblivious), so they point stuff out to me. We talked about some of it, reminisced about our own train wrecks, had a few cheep beers, and then left. Personally, I’m never going back. I’m just too old for it, I have no excuse. The martini bar a few blocks away provides a mature environment just as conducive to getting sloshed, if need be…. Ah, the sophistication.

Just Me

July 15, 2006

In the process of trying to avoid the inevitable I run smack in the middle of it. Hello, Denial. So that’s what it’s called….. It’s just a normal state of affairs, really. I feel like such a flake. A floater. My own worst enemy.


I was having dinner with my sister and some friends at a restaurant in New Brunswick tonight. A young couple sitting a few tables away kept making out. Not just kisses every now and then between dinner. I mean full-blown, high school basement date grope fest. Get a room, fuckers. I don’t need to be reminded of what could have been.


I am planning a vacation. I just want to go away, preferably with the option of never coming back.


I love my friends. You guys are awesome. I don’t know what  I’d do without you. You know who you are. You really do.


Remember Bob the Parts Manager? Well, it turns out he has a hair piece. The guys affectionately call it carpetta. It turns out it’s really high maintenance, you have to attach it with bonding fluid, you have to do it every morning, it’s difficult, and hot as hell. It sounds about ten times as complicated as makeup. I personally like the bold guy with no hair. Very Vin Diesel-ish…


I am going back to school. Yay, me!


July 11, 2006

To the motherfucker in the old-ass white Camry who almost hit me in the Bridgewater Mall parking lot and then proceeded to follow me all the way down 22, 287, and River Road-I had the right of way, dick. And you know that. When you cut through a parking lot you wait for people who actually obey the logic of traffic. I’m really sorry you didn’t rearend me, but putting any effort into it wasn’t worth your sorry ass. You should have followed me all the way home so I would have had a really good excuse to call the cops. BTW, I remember your licence plate. Handjob.