This is why we can't have nice skin

Well, I finally have a job... thank you God (and the friend of my sister's who helped me land it) hahaha.  I am so incredibly thankful and happy to be working again.  I am now a server at the Highline Ballroom, in the meatpacking district.  It's a small (700 people) concert venue, and they also host private parties and brunches (where the minimum per table is $10,000) and they have club nights.  The first night that I worked, Rita Ora was performing along with DJ Havana Brown, and Jay-Z showed up for the show... it was pretty awesome.  I'm not really into celebrity worship (the only exceptions being Kate Moss and possibly Pete Doherty), but I must say it was pretty awesome to know that Jay-Z was sitting about 10 feet away from where I was learning the ropes of serving cocktails/food.  Hey, If I'm gonna be somebody's cocktail bitch, I may as well be a rich, famous person's. I am still looking for a day job (hopefully something that can blossom into an actual career of sorts), but for now, this should be enough to pay the bills.  Before I found this job I was seriously at my wit's end.  I'm talking crying-every-day depressed, because I was so stressed that I couldn't find a job.  I haven't written in quite some time (also because I've been too depressed and busy searching for jobs), and have a new addition to my apartment; Breezy, the foster cat.

I am fostering Breezy through an organization called The American Street Cat, which takes in stray cats off the street, spays/neuters them, and either releases them, or finds homes for them based on whether or not they have ever been domesticated.  Breezy is an older cat, and was taken in from a parking garage in Breezy Point (hence her awful name... did you really think I would name a cat 'Breezy'?!).  The poor thing was spayed when they brought her in for an evaluation at the vet's office, meaning she was someone's pet once and they dumped her for whatever fucked up reason.  When I agreed to take her in, she had to go back to the vet's for dental work (thankfully she has a financial sponsor who pays for her bills) and came back with 4 teeth extracted.  I've been giving her antibiotics in her soft food, and she seems to be eating more, meaning her mouth doesn't hurt her after the extractions.  She is a sweet cat, but she's extremely skittish, which makes me think that her previous owners may have abused her.  She spends all day chilling under my bed, and only comes out when I'm gone, or sleeping at night.  I crawl under there a few times a day to pet her, and if I scoop her out, sometimes she will sit on my lap if I'm petting her, but as soon as my hands are off her she will run and hide again.  I thought that fostering a cat would be all peaches and cream- I thought I'd have a furry friend to cuddle and watch movies with or play with, but I guess not.  Oh well, I guess I'm doing a good deed for the animal kingdom nevertheless.  I'm sure Breezy will find a permanent home soon, but I don't know if I ever want to foster another cat after she leaves.  

On another note, I FINALLY have a couch!  No more sitting around on an itchy, wool carpet for me!  Now I can finally entertain guests without apologizing for lack of seating. haha.  

Yayyyyy for a proper living space!  Now If only Breezy would come join me on the couch once in a while... 

I am lame and felt the need to post this pick I took on the terrace the other night as the sun was setting because it was extraordinarily beautiful. 

I am lucky to have a job, but unfortunately I will only be home for Christmas Eve and Christmas and then return to the city to work.  I am scheduled to work on Sunday night, so my sister, brother in law, and niece left to go upstate without me, and now I will be forced to pay $80 to ride the ghetto mobile also known as the Greyhound bus.  Kill me now.  I fucking hate public transportation; it's so smelly, and dirty and makes me literally feel nauseous.  In fact, I've thrown up riding the greyhound bus on two different occasions (no, I wasn't hungover, thank you very much).  I've also experienced the worst of humanity on the greyhound bus, including trashy parents who tell their two year old, inquisitive child to 'shut up,' a woman who busted out a smelly, hard-boiled egg to eat, and some old dude who was clearly rubbing his dick in his pants as he sat next to me when I was like 18.  People on the bus are fucking nasty.  I can't wait to be home though.  I had all of the Christmas presents that I ordered delivered to my parent's house upstate, so I'm going to have to spend all day wrapping them.  Hopefully everything I ordered has showed up.  I can't wait to hold Bijou and play with Ceely.  

I have spent the last week of my life baking Christmas goodies (I decided to give all my extended family members huge cookie/candy plates), and thusly have also spent the last week of my life on acne control.  As you may or may not know from previous posts, I experienced a terrible acne breakout upon moving to the city.  It's been relatively under control for about a month now, as my acne medication kicked in.  However, I am scared to indulge myself in sugar and alcohol, because despite what anyone says, these things honestly make me break out.  Despite my best efforts to curb my cookie-nibbling, dough-sampling, frosting-licking ways, I have no self-control when I am baking, and usually eat like 1/4 or the batter.  The other day I made more of those rice krispie treat balls (covered in chocolate) and even though I put them in my freezer to keep for others, I find myself taking them out and eating them... still frozen.  How fucking shameful.  Today I made home-made caramel-covered apples, rolled in chocolate and nuts.  I knew going into the baking, that caramel is probably the worst thing ever for my skin, and it also happens to be one of my favorite sweets... a terrible combination.  My home-made caramel was so fucking delicious though, that I guess a couple zits are worth it. 

The apples, covered in caramel and ready to be rolled.... half the carmel now calls my stomach 'home.' haha.  On the right is the chocolate bark I made.  It has slivered almonds, dried cherries and apricots, and salted dark-chocolate.  Melting chocolate is a pain in the ass... I don't think I'll ever do it again.  It took like 5 hours to dry. 

Tonight I have tentative plans to make thumb-print cookies and these delicious, almond-flavored candy cookies (depending on whether or not I think I have enough self-control to not eat half the batter).

And because I am a fucking narcissist, and this is probably the last time before February that I will look thin enough to sport body-con dresses, I will leave you with some gratuitous self-portraits, because it's my blog and I can! 

What I would wear every day If it were only socially acceptable.  Thank God I am allowed/supposed to dress sexy at my new job.   My boyfriend slipped and told me he got me this awesome, black body-con dress for Christmas.... I can't fucking wait to put that baby on.  

Addendum:  

I can't even believe how much cookiedough/chocolate/caramel/cookies/carbs/curry/banana milk, EVERYTHING else I consumed today.... These pics were both taken today, no lie.  

8 am... looking like a man

8pm (no, I'm not pregnant... obviously)

Jobless for the Holidays

The week prior to Thanksgiving, I applied for approximately 45+ job openings, most of which I am over-qualified for.  I have yet to hear back about a single one of them- ten days after the fact.  I even signed up for four various recruiting agencies (agencies that find temp-work etc. and charge the company who hires you a small fee for finding you); I have not heard back from a single one of those either.  What gives?  A simple, generic email along the lines of 'We're sorry but the position has been filled/we found a more qualified applicant/you suck" would be nicer than not hearing back at all.  It's becoming so very frustrating.  I mean, what am I supposed to do?  Should I pretend I never went to college and graduated or ignore the fact that I've held down a handful of reasonable jobs within the past few years and go apply at McDonalds? (no offense to anyone who might work at McDonald's- it's just that that was my last resort even when I was in high school and looking for work).  Should I go scrub the toilets of rich ladies and degrade myself?   I certainly can't go back to work for Mollister/A&F Co. after resigning for all of the right reasons.  I honestly feel like with all of the various applications I submit on a daily basis I am beginning to exhaust my options.  I've applied for a variety of basic sales associate jobs, office assistant jobs, basically anything at this point, that would provide me with a bit of income and occupy my time.  I used to love having time home alone and to myself to relax or work on my book or cook something scrumptious, but JC- being alone all the time is really starting to blow.  I racked up 70% of the family plan's usage for phone minutes and about 7,000 texts last month just because aside from sitting here at my computer applying for jobs, I have nothing else to do but chat with friends/harass my brother etc.  It's really becoming depressing... it reminds of my days at FIT when my first roommate moved out and I was all alone for almost an entire semester... or my other roommate who was constantly going home to bang her boyfriend every weekend leaving me all alone.  Shit's just sad. lmao.

I decided to at least do something good for the world while I am unemployed; so I signed up to foster a kitten.  I didn't want to adopt a cat, because I have Bijou and I don't want him to think that his mom left him and took up with another cat in the city. LMAO.  However, I did some research and found several legitimate organizations looking for individuals who will temporarily serve as a foster parent for a kitten for a time frame of around 2-3 months.  A lot of animal shelters don't have enough room or help to give the space, time, or necessary attention to the kittens/puppies that they have, so they are constantly looking for volunteers to bring these animals into their homes until they are old enough to be adopted out to a permanent home.  This sounds perfect because I want to help, but I cannot commit to actually adopting and owning an animal for the long haul right now.  I also looked into volunteering at hospitals and nursing homes yesterday and I think that until I have a job, I would like to start spending a few hours a week reading to children or helping out at a hospital/nursing home.  Helping others has always made me feel good, and I certainly don't do it as often as I should anymore.

I had a lovely Thanksgiving Holiday at home and a lovely three days with my boyfriend upon returning to the city.  Now it's back to the grind of job searching- yet again.  I have started my Christmas shopping, so at least that is something to occupy my time.  Whilst racking my brain for the perfect gifts to give to my loved ones, I started thinking about my own Christmas lists and how it went from my annual fantasy lists of yore, to this year's ever-so-boring list.  For Example:

Obviously those were just fantasy lists and I would always hang a more reasonable one on the fridge at home asking for stuff like Sephora Gift cards or a pair of riding boots. This year however, I suppose I am a 'real' adult, because my list is boring as well as utterly depressing:

Christmas List 2012

1.  The Clarisonic 

2.  A crock pot

3.  A set of Mixing bowls

4.  A hand held vacuum 

5.  Socks

6.  Ear Muffs

7.  A case of coffee

WHO AM I?! Honestly... If this is what being an independent and responsible adult consists of at the tender age of 24... then what the fuck is in store for me when I'm in my forties?! This list makes me feel like a 1950s housewife.  Yes, I like to cook, and yes, I keep a tidy apartment... but JC... a fucking Vacuum cleaner?!  A fucking Crock Pot?! Someone might need to stage an intervention, I'm starting to not recognize myself anymore.  I mean, seriously, the highlight of this list is a Clarisonic- and that's only because my dermatologist recommended it for my skin issues. So sad.  I never realized how much money a person spends on necessities like coffee and toilet paper... I keep thinking about how nice it was to not have to buy this stuff for myself when I lived at home.  No wonder I never thought twice about treating myself to something nice on Urbanoutfitters.com or Nastygal.com.  Another depressing thing about being jobless, is finding things to look forward to and to keep you motivated.  My boyfriend bought tickets to a Bloc Party concert happening right after Christmas to make up for the concert I didn't attend with him in summer so that is something to look forward to.  Sigh.  I need things to look forward to these days.  It's really hard when every day is a day off.  I mean, when you're working 45 hours a week, you look forward to your hard-earned days off, even if you have nothing at all planned, you look forward to not waking up at the ass crack of dawn or slaving away for a 9 hour shift.  But now?  It's difficult, it really is.  I look forward to weekends upstate just to break up the monotony of this lonely apartment.  I look forward to Wednesday nights because thats when I go to my sister's to watch American Horror Story.  I look forwards to seeing my cat... what is wrong with this picture?  I think I might just go for a 5 mile walk now because I have nothing better to do. 

Love Today

I have decided perhaps I've been listening to a little too much Portishead and Radiohead as of late, because I switched it up last night and put on some Mika (an old favorite) and instantly I felt more positive and in-control of my life and happy for the first time in about two weeks.  It's amazing what music can do for one's mood...I should really start listening to Muse and Mika all the time because I really feel like a new person.  Perhaps part of the reason for my unusually chipper mood is also because my acne meds have kicked in, and despite the raging headache I have as a side effect of the oral antibiotic, my face has cleared right up.  I know it's gross, but I have some crusty, peeling skin where the zits were, and it seriously hurts to smile and laugh at the moment; this past weekend was miserable.  Lol.  Last night my sister and I were dying driving back to the city from upstate and I kept joking about the fact I couldn't smile and felt like my lips were going to split down the side like the Joker's if I smiled too big. "Hey kid, ya wanna know how I got these sscccaaaaars?  Well, ya see... I had some real bad acne, and then I took these meds that dried my face out and made the zits all crusty, and then... my sister, she told this joke, ya' see?  And I smiled a little too hard." LMAO.  I think it's funny anyhow.  I still haven't heard back from Anthropologie, but I haven't heard bad news at least, so whatever.  I sent them a 'thank you for the interview/looking forward to hearing back' email on Friday, and they have been excellent about getting back to me, so hopefully by the end of this week I will know either way.  It's such a nice f*cking day outside though, I'm not going to complain that I have it off.  I really am going to finish my book this week, come hell or high water.  I'm not sure what I plan to do after the fact; I suppose I will revise it several times and maybe give it to select friends/family members to read to see if they like it...

If all else fails and I don't have a job by the end of the month, I might become a stripper.  Lord knows I have the moves- I just need the bolt-on titties and I would be golden.  hahaha.  In all seriousness though... ;)  I'd probably make bank... and I'd get to utilize all of my 5" heels and lingerie... sigh.  I think in another life I was a drag queen.

I have about 5 billion things (give or take) that I want to start buying people for Christmas presents, but I know that if there is no perspective job in the future, I should probably not start blowing money like it grows on trees.  I am stoked that Thanksgiving is already next week.. time is flying by at a rapid rate.  I spent the weekend at home and took some new pics of the animals, and the niece...

Ceely looking dapper.

Mr. B and his new catnip toy... according to my brother it looks like a Christmas Dildo. Poor Bijou...

Gratuitous shot of my abs because that's the only thing good going on in my life... jk.  I found an entire stash of acro costumes dating from the ages of 7 to 12... I wore this one when I was 11...pretty sexual if you ask me.  DISCO INFERNOOOO

I finally went to the hardware store and single-handedly put up these shelves that have been sitting in the corner for the past month and a half.  It took all of three hours start-to-finish, and my poor little wrists are spent. 

How I went about holding the shelves up while I screwed... lol.  Kind of like the time I stacked three chairs on top of each other to lift a suitcase onto a giant wardrobe at FIT... I'm lucky I didn't die. 

And some cougar sausage I found at the Meat Hook on my walk... I might have to get some, it's only fitting. hahaha

Everybody is Doing it...

I can't even tell you how many of posts show up each day on my FB news feed from friends doing the '30 days of thanks' thing to honor Thanksgiving and make the entire month of November all about giving thanks.  While I can say some of the posts are very sincere, others are downright annoying and make me wonder why I decided to get back on FB after a two month absence ("I wish I knew how to quit you facebook," - said in manner of Jack to Ennis a la Brokeback Mountain).    Since I generally use this blog as a source to vent all of my daily frustrations (or at least the ones that I don't feel are too personal to share with the world), I thought I would dedicate this entire post to all of the things that I am grateful for and appreciative of on a daily basis, but sometimes overlook or fail to mention in the midst of my minor woes and daily dilemmas.

I am grateful for a supportive, tight-knit family.  I can't tell you how many times I have seen siblings that don't talk to each other or aren't close, and I always wonder why.  At the end of the day, my siblings, along with my (second) cousin, are some of my best friends.   I know that no matter who I am or what I do, they won't ever walk away or stop caring about me.  Clearly I have been in many altercations and arguments with my brother and sister over the years; we have our differences and our differences of opinion (like how to wear mascara ;p), however I don't think that I would be who I am today if I weren't so close to either of them.  It's funny; my sister is almost eight years older than me, and my brother is four years younger, so we were never very close in age, but I get along with both of them and can talk to either of them bluntly, and they can do the same with me.  I have told my brother and cousin things I haven't told my closest friends (no offense closest friends, but I spent a lot of time hanging out with my brother and cousin this summer), and my sister has had to listen to me bitch about trivial shit that I blow up like the drama queen I am for the majority of my life and has never stopped listening to me complain about zits, weight-gain, bad hair days, relationship issues, friend issues, etc.  I would do *almost* anything for my siblings and cousin, and I know they would probably do *almost* anything for me.

I am grateful for my parents.  There, I've said it. lol.  I know that I generalized my family in the last paragraph of thankfulness, but I don't know how my parents have put up with me for this many years.  I mean, I was a pretty good child- they never had to worry about me slutting it up, drinking, or doing drugs, however, I was always on the extremely sensitive/emotional end of the spectrum, and putting up with me must have been pretty taxing at times.  No my parents aren't perfect- they argue a lot, I've seen some screaming matches I wish I'd never witnessed (hey, who hasn't? My mom always told me that it's when a couple stops communicating altogether that you have to be concerned), but I know that they care about each other at the end of the day, and more importantly they have always cared about their children.  My parents might not have bought me a brand new car when I turned sixteen (though they did give me my sister's Altima and still pay for my insurance :x), nor did they bring me to Disney World, but those aren't the things that make parents "good" parents.  They haven't always been super supportive or encouraging about certain endeavors (looking back I can't say I blame them; I don't think I would have let my 20 year old take out loans to go to Lee Strasberg having only an Associate's degree), nor have they lavished me with compliments the way some parents do (I don't think I can ever recall my mom praising my physical appearance- I don't know if that's bad parenting, or if that a good thing that she never put emphasis on how a person looks... hmm).  However, my parents have always stood up for me when I couldn't stand up for myself (like the time my A.P English teacher made me cry for missing a day to attend a student council conference when I had a 110 in her class...bitch), and they have bailed me out of numerous situations (my dad has dragged my car out of a ditch, paid for the repairs when I swerved to miss a deer, etc.).  My poor parents drove me to three nights of dances classes for 12 years of my life, and sacrificed weekends and a week at a time each year to go with me to various competitions.  My parent's never really gave me a lot of physical affection (my family isn't comprised of a group of 'huggers'), however it's the little things... my mom read to me EVERY SINGLE night growing up; my dad taught me so much about nature and navigation and basic skills like how to check oil and start the grill (even though I'm still scared of blowing my eyebrows off).  My mom used to come in every night and shut off my light and take off my glasses when I went through a phase of being scared and blind (hey, when your vision is as bad as mine, it really sucks to be laying in bed with no eyesight when you're scared), and my dad used to take my brother and I on hikes all the time when we were young.  On top of all of this, they've both had to listen to me sob, bitch about the way that I looked, and hurl some pretty scathing insults towards both of them.  I am lucky they still love me. lol. I hope someday I can pay my parents back for all that they did for me and provided me with (I need to get rich, bitch!). lol

I am thankful for my friends; I may not have the most friends, but the ones I have would probably do anything for me and vice versa.  Lord knows they've listened to my cry on multiple occasions and put up with my drunken antics many nights.  The level of comfort and trust I have with my best friends is so high that I don't think I would ever be able to replace it or even build another friendship that would surpass what I've already built with my closest friends.  My friends and I may not always see each other that often now that were out of college and have respective lives in different parts of the state, different schedules and varying obligations; but I am positive when I say that they support me in a way no one else does.  If I picked up the phone and called them crying at 2am, they would know exactly what to say to make me feel better.  The same goes for them, I would pick up the phone in an instant and do anything in my power to be a good friend for a friend in need. We have laughed together, ran from police together, gotten drunk together, spray painted together, cooked together, created art together, cried together, played together (as kids.. duh), and grown up together.  I love my friends and I am grateful that I have them in my life.  Even the friends that I rarely see in person but always text or call to check in on how things are going in my life- I am thankful for, because so often I will be having a bad day and it only takes that friendly reminder that someone is thinking about me to make me feel loved and better about life.

I am thankful for my health and body and mind.  I know I may seem ungrateful and self-deprecating at times.  I am not as tall as I wish I was, I don't have a cute, little, cookie-cutter nose, and I bitch about what I eat far too often (I'm sorry I do this to anyone who has ever had to listen or anyone else that I have ever made feel bad about their body by bitching about my own- that has never been my intent).  But in all honesty, I am thankful for everything I have.  I was born with a fully functional body that can do all kinds of awesome stuff, like run and jump, and swim, and splits, and acrobatics, and ballet, etc.  I am thankful I have all of my limbs and fingers and toes and good health.  I can cook and clean and build stuff and carry stuff and climb stuff; a lot of people aren't in a condition to do the things that I take for granted most days.  I am happy that I am a generally healthy person who rarely gets sick (minus my sensitive skin), and that I am intelligent and creative (I know some of you probably question my mentality or level of intelligence given the shit I write about, haha).  I am happy that I am not chronically ill or have a condition that limits my mobility.  I am happy that I do like my body ( on most days) and that I feel more comfortable in my own skin the older I get and the more I learn to appreciate what I have.

I am thankful for my pets.  I know some of you are thinking this is pretty weak, but hear me out.  I love my animals to death- they are like family members, sometimes the best kind, because they don't talk back.  lol. jk.  I am lucky that I come from a home where animals are treated well, and I have grown up to be a person who loves, respects, and cares deeply about the welfare of wildlife and domestic animals.  I cry when I watch those ASPCA commercials and I cry when I read stories about abused or neglected animals. I even cry when I see dogs tethered to posts or ones that have to sleep outside (I feel this is animal cruelty- I'm sorry, but why do some people even have pets if they aren't allowed indoors?  That's just fucked up and wrong).  My pets make me a better person.  It's because of the stray cat I took in that I will ask to doggy-bag sushi just so I can leave pieces around Williamsburg for the stray cats frequenting the area (say what you will, but I don't like animals to be hungry, nor do I like to waste food).  It's because of my animals that I donate any spare blankets or throw carpets I have to the local ASPCA.  My animals give me someone to take care of and dote on (because lord knows I'm not having kids anytime soon), and spoil with affection.  They bring me joy when they do cute things, and they are always very tolerant when I put bows on them and take pictures.  My pets have encouraged me to care about stray animals that I see when I think about the fact that every (domestic) animal should be entitled to a warm, loving home and regular meals.  They have made me aware of the importance of spaying and neutering pets (hence why we caught the stray cats in the first place and paid to have them spayed and neutered last fall).  Having pets and caring about animals has also brought awareness to my eyes about the meat industry.  I know that I am not exactly a vegetarian or a vegan (a tad to extreme for me), but I have certainly made more of an effort in the past ten years or so to cut out fast food, to cut out meat when I can, and to eat more free-range or cage-free (in the case of poultry).  I am much more aware of steroids and antibiotics and the injustices done to animals and livestock raised for consumption on huge farms.  Furthermore, my animals are there for me in a way many people aren't.  I know that sounds really stupid; it's not as though my animals actually listen to me or give me advice like friends or family would- but when all I need is the comfort of another living thing (especially one that is soft and furry and warm), they provide me with someone to hug and hold. lol.  I sound like such a crazy bitch writing this.  But JC, i fucking love my animals. hahaha.

I am thankful for all of the opportunities that I have been provided in life.  I may not have grown up in an urban area where kids have the chance to go to high schools with majors like drama or music (I always thought that it was such an unfair advantage when applying to colleges for various art majors that some kids had the benefit of studying their major in high school when so many go to public or private schools with a basic, gen-ed curriculum).  However, growing up in a small town upstate gave me opportunity in a lot of ways.  I always had small class sizes (I think the most we ever had in a class room was probably only 21 students or so), I had really awesome teachers who cared about the education and welfare of all of their students, I had great music teachers, a respectable music department (Orchestra, band, jazz band, chorus... the works).  I grew up in a small community where at times it seemed that everyone knew your business, but at the same time, it's nice to know that you can walk into the dentist's office or the post office or the store, and people know your name and your family and ask how they're doing.  The benefits of having such a small, tight-knit community really showed themselves in events of crisis like after the flood(s) or when someone passed away, everyone would reach out with support and condolences.  It was comforting, and it still is comforting when I am home.  I'm thankful my parents encouraged me to go to college and helped financially support me.  I'm thankful that they cared enough to shuttle me around when I was looking at various schools, moved all of my shit to the city when I went to FIT, moved it all back, moved me into an apartment in oneonta when I was there, etc.  I am thankful I had great professors (for the most part) at SUNY Oneonta.  The only professors I am thankful for at FIT were Prof. Wayne Barker (my textiles professor) who taught me many valuable life lessons as a wee freshman, and my screenwriting professor, Prof. Steven Fector, who wrote The Woodsman (staring Kevin Bacon and Kira Sedgwick).  Class with professor Fector was a much needed relief from the other mundane merchandising classes filled with non-creative, superficial bitches.  It was a class filled with students of all ages and backgrounds, where we had great discussions, watched awesome independent films, and we all wrote the first 25 pages of a screenplay.  I will never forget the teachers that encouraged my creative endeavors.

I am thankful I live in America (even though it has gone downhill in the past 10 years or so).  I am thankful I wake up and have freedom to speak my mind, to wear whatever I want (even if there are consequences if I choose to dress provocatively, at least I'm not mandated to cover up in a burka), I can do what I want in terms of jobs (we have no Caste system here... thank God), go where I want, and that there are opportunities available if you seek them.  I am happy that I have control over my body and my reproductive rights (Thank heavens Mitt Romney was not elected.. that would have been reverting back to the 50s in a lot of ways and I would have had to have fled the country), I am thankful that as a woman I can do anything that a man can do in terms of jobs, etc., and I am thankful for all of the women before me who fought so I could have the same rights and opportunities that men have.  Yes, this country still has a long way to go as a society in terms of eradicating harassment, assault, violence against women, rape, etc., but for the most part I feel safe when I am walking around by myself, and that isn't the case in a lot of countries.  I am very lucky to be here.

Furthermore, I am thankful I have a place to live (in a pretty cool city), food in my cupboards and fridge, health insurance (thank you Obama for making it so that I could be on my parents insurance until I am 25), and good style. haha.

It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas

There is a fierce snowstorm brewing outside, and I am not even going to complain, because I love Snow and I love Christmas!  I'm sorry if that is too happy for some of you sourpusses who hate snow.  I hate snow too, but only if it comes at an inconvenient time when there is traveling to be done, or if it is March.  Some of you may argue that it is far too early in the season to begin feeling these festive longings or wishing for a white Christmas, or listening to Christmas songs... I say, let the festivities begin!  I know Halloween only just ended, but every store in the city is already doing their holiday windows and pretty lights are going up all over!  Christmas always comes and goes far too fast, so this year, I fully intend on celebrating and cherishing every festive day leading up to the most glorious time of year.  I FINALLY had that interview at the Anthropologie store on 5th Ave. today.  I am praying (yes, sometimes I pray, call me a hypocrite if you must- because I will be the first to admit that sometimes I am, sadly) that I get the job, as anyone who knows me well enough will tell you that I am slowly going insane in the membrane sitting here jobless.  I swear I just get surlier and surlier as the days go by.  I feel like I have turned into a binge eater out of boredom, and that, is a sad state of affairs.  I guess the grass is always greener, right?  I voluntarily quit my last job, don't get me wrong.  That job was awful and was really holding me back, not to mention I dreaded going to work every day and couldn't stand the fact that our hiring practices were morally and ethically wrong on every level.  However, sitting here blowing my hard earned savings on food and rent isn't exactly a comforting thought either.  I can't wait to be making money again so I can start spending on some of life's luxuries, and so I can afford to give all of my loved ones awesome Christmas Pressies.  As soon as I hear back at the end of this week (fingers crossed), I will either start my Holiday shopping (granted the news is good and I get the position), or sit here crying as I stare at my computer and continue searching for job after job after job after job.... haha.  What's a girl gotta do to make some money in this world?  (sugar daddies, fake titties, pole-dancing, high class prostitution rings... hmmmm).  jk.  I would never.  I really think I would love working in that store though; I loved being a manager and a team leader (I think it's something I excel at... not to toot my own horn ;) )  and the store is so pretty and cozy and festive, as are the clothing and home-wear items that they sell.   I am quite confident that even if I don't get this job, something will come along before my money runs out (I should be good another three months if I spend wisely); that being said though, I REALLY REALLY REALLY want this job!!!!!!!! Omg, I've probably jinxed myself and I won't get it because of a bad skin day (can they do that?).  I think Mollister scared me for life, because now I always think someone isn't going to hire me unless I am really really ridiculously good-looking, as opposed to how qualified or smart or creative I am (hey, I've seen too many qualified individuals get turned down simply because they didn't fit our "look" while I was working at Mollister, and that is beyond fucked up).

I am dying to go home and see my cat and dogs so badly.  I know they are in good hands, but nothing replaces a mother's touch (poor little Biji cat needs his Meeooommm!). haha.  I mean, I do have my niece and she is pretty effing adorable, and her head is soft and fuzzy and she's got cute little thigh rolls... but it's not the same as picking up a fluffy cat and sticking your face in his fur.  hahahaha.  I always worry about Bijou because he was just a kitten when he showed up in my backyard, and I gave him a home and food and affection and I know he is appreciative.  My mom always told me it was a bad idea to put a collar on a cat that was indoor/outdoor because if their collar gets caught up on a branch they might not come home, which is sad but true.  However, it is hunting season upstate and I worry that some crazy hunter from Jersey might take aim at my cat.  Perhaps I should die bijou's fur fluorescent orange when I go home.  I remember my dad (who has always been insanely over-protective) used to make my brother and I wear his fluorescent orange hunting hats when we played in our own yard during hunting season, because there are woods behind my house and he was always terrified that some downstate hunter would take aim on anything moving if they saw it from a distance. LOL.  My dad is also the type that wouldn't let my brother and I play in piles of leaves in our own yard if he felt that they were 'too close to the road,' because he was always afraid that a car might purposely swerve into the pile and hit one of us if we were hidden in them.  Dear lord.  However, his over protectiveness has come in handy on several occasions- like the time my sister heard something in the yard one night and my dad walked outside in his pjs and found some punk teenager with a flashlight who claimed to be "looking for [his] dog." Or the fact that any time I have gone on a camping trip or even a long car ride, my dad hooks me up with all kinds of extras like flashlights, batteries, toilet paper, mace... because you never know what might happen.  Sometimes I feel like I have inherited that over-protective gene, even with my cat.  I fear for my future children someday.   I may take a ghetto bus home tomorrow, dependent upon whether or not my sister and brother in law think they will be able to get enough gas to go Upstate by Friday.  I need to see my animals and have my mom cook me all the fatty foods I won't cook for myself since I am living alone.  Furthermore I need my GD full length mirror!!!  I had a dermatology appointment earlier today before my interview.  The doctors at Williamsburg Dermatology are so nice; I am really glad I found that place since my skin has been freaking out since I moved down here.  The Dr. I saw today prescribed me an oral antibiotic and two topical cremes for my acne, so hopefully I will get this shit cleared up within the next couple of weeks.  My fragile ego (eagle) has had its wings clipped and it needs to soar.  LOL. It is so fucking dry in this apartment also, which really isn't helping matters since every blemish I pick gets all flaky (I'm disgusting, I know).  Every morning I wake up and feel as though I have just fallen asleep in the Sahara. Every last facial orifice including my meeouth is dry and I chug a glass of water before having coffee.  I need to get a humidifier ASAP.  I know that I'm a grown girl, but given the fact that my apartment is tastefully and simply decorated, I think I might have some fun and treat myself to the festive, pig-shaped, pink humidifier. It's something seasonal, so it's not like it's going to be a main-stay in the apartment year round.  Plus, it's going to be by my bed, so I doubt people will notice it.  I considered getting the Hello Kitty one, but I thought perhaps that was a bit too much, even for me, and people might start to question my mentality if they came over.  I think that before American Horror Story comes on tonight, I will force my sister to watch "White Christmas" with me and make Swiss Miss.... ;)  God I love Christmas.  When I go home this weekend, little Bijou and Ceely are going to get their Christmas pics taken by yours truly. haha.  I will leave you with some pics of the snow fall, and also pictures of my animals from last Christmas.

view over the terrace and down the street towards Bedford

The terrace... no place for sunning or drinking wine today.

Ceely, aka. "baby" looking adorable... my sweet little 'senji

Bijou when he was still an adolescent, helping his mom wrap Christmas Pressies.  I can't wait to kiss his little pink nose. lol... I'm such a freak.

When Did It Get So Cold?

I had a most excellent weekend, following the boring week I spent mostly indoors and entirely isolated, out here in Williamsburg, following the storm.  In addition to cooking an array of fantastic delicacies (split pea soup, cheddar and herb biscuits from scratch, herb encrusted chicken bites, more oatmeal, carrot-cake sandwich cookies, etc.), supporting nearly all of the local restaurants with my patronage (I'm surprised I still fit into my clothes... I probably won't be able to if I am unemployed another couple of weeks), and walking a total of probably 12 miles in two days (thanks to the subways still being closed), I attended an awesome concert on Friday night, at the Living Room, on the lower east side.  Randall Shreve and the Sideshow are a pretty talented band that I had forgotten about until I received an invite via facebook for their concert.  I decided to check them out on Youtube, since I hadn't listened to any of their music since the days of Myspace (I know- that was forever ago).  I found this song, and I was hooked:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z9feAWWMyLg

I decided going to the concert would be a good choice, considering the fact I loved the first song I listened to.  So on Friday night, Neil and I (yes, we are back together for anyone who cares to know), went to the concert and both of us loved it.  All of the band members were highly enthusiastic and seemed to thoroughly be enjoying themselves on stage (which always makes for a great performance), and the lead singer's vocals are out of this world.  If I were to describe the sound of the band (and I know bands usually hate being compared to other bands) I would say they truly are almost completely original sounding, but the sound would lie somewhere along the lines of Jeff Buckley and/or Silverchair (circa 'Diorama'/'Young Modern' era).  I highly recommend anyone reading this to check them out, you won't be disappointed (unless you like the popular culture shit they play on the radio these days, and if that's the case, we probably aren't friends).

My interview with Anthropologie is finally taking place tomorrow at 3pm.  I really hope that I get this job, because there are about two hundred things I have been wanting to buy and haven't allowed myself to purchase without having a steady source of income (cable, that down coat from Uniqlo, those riding pants from American Apparel, a custom print for my apartment, etc.).  I also made an appointment with the dermatologist tomorrow for the acne I have been experiencing since moving to the city.  I know that it isn't technically 'that bad' or even that noticeable to others, but the fact that I have to worry about covering it up to go out, or that it stresses me out to see my own face in the mirror at night after washing off my makeup is highly disconcerting for me.  I honestly don't know how people with cystic acne do it... not that I have cystic acne, but it is a still a struggle in self-confidence to face the world when one has pimples on their face.  More power to anyone struggling with acne.  I don't think that my acne is bad enough for the dermatologist to prescribe me Acutane, though I have been thinking about that option.  I mean, I don't plan on having kids any time soon, and when I do, I want to adopt, but if I were to ever change my mind about having my own, biological kids, I wouldn't want Accutane screwing me over.  I just don't understand what is causing the acne in the first place... I am blaming it on air pollution, since I didn't have this issue when I was living upstate.  I know I sound like a cry baby right now, and there are far more devastating issues I could be dealing with.  I know that I am lucky to have all of my limbs, good health, a close knit family, and a great group of friends.  I know I am lucky to live in America, to have rights, and freedom.  So, my apologies if I have offended anyone by bitching about my skin.  But honestly, I have a very fragile ego, and acne is killing me softly.   Let's hope I can get to the bottom of this issue tomorrow, because I absolutely refuse to live a dairy-less, sugar-less, spice-less, existence by going on an anti-inflammatory diet (not to mention that without any of the aforementioned food groups, I would probably waste away into nothing).

In other news, I went to the sketchiest video store ever on Saturday night.  Videology, which is the local rental place on Bedford was closed for renovations, so we looked up another nearby video store (remember, I still don't have cable) and walked under the BQE (Brooklyn-Queens Expressway) to get there.  It took us forever to find, because when we finally found the number showing up on google maps, the place didn't even look like a video store.  Upon closer inspection, I noticed that the store at hand, which appeared to be a deli, did have a sign in the window that said "videos." So in we went.  The videos were completely disorganized, and the store had an array of Asian food products and random produce on one side.  It took forever to find a couple decent movies, and when I brought them up to the counter, I noticed that there were some knock-off Air Jordan's on the wall.  In the glass display counter, where the register sat, were all sorts of random knock-off fragrances, along with sex toys, lubricants, and weird Asian viagra.  I was a bit freaked out at that point, especially when I noticed the 'Rubba' Booty Shorts' on the wall behind the counter.  The man working at the store took forever and a day to find the CDs for the videos and charged me $5 for both... I realized that this wasn't even a rental store, but rather a store filled with DVDs that this man had illegally burned himself.  I felt like a bad person walking out of the store with my illegally burned DVD.  Luckily it was excellent quality when I watched it.

I am definitely going upstate this weekend, and I couldn't be more excited to see Bijou, my dogs, and get that full-length mirror.  Life without my animals is rough. 

Sugar Spells and Hallow-failures

I am happy to say I survived "hurricane" Sandy.  I suppose I am very lucky to be living where I am, because I am about three blocks from the water, 5 stories up, and didn't even lose power where I am located.  Needless to say, I feel terrible for people and businesses that suffered water damage or wind damage or are still living without electricity or even running water.  That is pretty awful.  The subways will probably be down for another few days (if not another week), and life has been pretty uneventful out here in Williamsburg.  My third and (what was hopefully the 'final') interview with Anthropologie was supposed to have been Monday at 3pm, but the lady who had been in correspondence with me shot me an email on Sunday night to cancel, due to the impending storm.  She said she would get back in touch with me to reschedule as soon as things were back to normal after the storm.  I'm assuming Anthropologie's offices aren't currently open or are the victim of water damage/no electricity since it is now Wednesday, and I have yet to hear back.  Clearly I understand (seeing as how parts of the city were severely flooded/torn apart) that there is nothing anyone can do, but I was really looking forward to getting this interview out of the way and finding out whether or not I had the job so I could continue looking for another one if I needed to.  I'm not complaining about the current state of affairs, seeing as how I made it out of this storm with no clean-up to deal with when so many people were less fortunate, but the storm destroyed my plan of doing the interview and then going upstate for the rest of the week.  Sigh.  Hopefully next week I will be able to go home for a few days.  I am seriously dying with no full length mirror in my apartment.  I can't even post a picture of my fabulous, hand-sewn Corpse Bride costume (that I sadly didn't have a chance to wear out, but even more sadly, probs cant fit into after all of the shit I ate).

I have spent the last week of my life baking, and subsequently eating sweets NON stop.  It started when my sister suggested that we bake cookies for a Halloween party she was going to attend for her summer babies mom's group.  I love baking, so I was more than happy to lend a helping hand in making my (well, technically Martha Stewart's) well-received carrot cake-cookie sandwich cookies.  I probably ate half of the dough as I was making them, so by the time they came out of the oven and were assembled with cream cheese frosting, I didn't even want to sample the finished product.  I felt like shit after the sugar rush subsided, and suffered a terrible headache and feeling of nausea, and vowed that I would never eat so much sugar again.  Well, we went back to the grocery store on Sunday to prepare for the impending hurricane, and by prepare I mean purchase more ingredients with which to bake (since we knew we wouldn't be able to do much else while stuck inside).  We made oatmeal cookies with dark chocolate chunks at my sisters (I again, devoured half of the dough), and then I whipped up some rice krispie treat lollipops at my apartment.  BIG MISTAKE.

I am OBSESSED with rice krispie treats in any capacity, which is why I never buy the prepackaged ones or even keep around ingredients to make them.  I do this simply because I have no will power when it comes to resisting the buttery, mallowy goodness, and I WILL eat them all.  I told myself I was going to make them (just to keep myself busy since it's a time consuming project and the weather was crappy) and store them in the freezer for 'guests' (mhmm, we all know how that goes...).  I remember when I was living with one of my best friends in a college apartment in Oneonta, and I had done my best to resist bringing home candy (I'm a fucking animal, what can I say), Halloween rolled around so I bought a bag of those mini, assorted candy bars in the name of the Halloween spirit.  I brought it home and told my friend that it was "for the guests," clearly, I had other ideas.  It was gone within about two days, and I was the sole 'guest' consuming them.  But back to my obsession with rice krispie treats.  I was cat-sitting for my sister one weekend about a year ago, and my boyfriend was spending the weekend with me.  I went to scoop Emma's litter box out (which is kept in a large coat-closet) when I spotted a jumbo sized box of Kellog's Rice Krispie treats.  I tried to resist for about 5 minutes, before I ate one.  Then I had another, and then another, and another.  This was all before 12 noon, mind you.  By 12 o'clock, noon, I had consumed 6 or so rice krispie treats, and felt extremely ill.  Like it always goes, I told myself 'never again.'

Alas, here I am.  Most of the Rice Krispie balls I tucked into the freezer just three days ago, are now coursing through my blood stream or somewhere in my digestive tract.  I fucking love them.  And then, during a search for careers with Martha Stewart Living (I know what some of you are thinking, but that woman is one of my idols),  I saw a recipe online where you can actually dye the rice krispies orange and shape them like pumpkins around a mini candy bar (so it's a chocolately surprise when you get to the middle) and frost the top to make it look like a more authentic pumpkin.  My heart fluttered and my mouth salivated as I entertained the idea for a hot second.  I consider running out to buy ingredients to make these festive, seasonal treats, but then I told myself I was only lying when I said I would give them to others, and deep down I knew where all of the bounty would end up.

Upside down cooling/drying.  Rice Krispie treats, hand-rolled into balls and dipped into melted white and/or milk chocolate.  SO EFFING GOOD!

Seeing as how today is technically Halloween (even though it doesn't feel like it, given the fact most people threw their costume parties on Saturday, and hurricane Sandy threw the entire city into a tailspin), I thought I would like to recount some of my depressing Halloweens (my Halloweens always end up so depressing, I'm cursed).  If you don't like reading about my 'woe is me' life, then stop reading now.  There, I've warned you.

The first Halloween that was truly a bust was my Freshman year at FIT.  I had failed to assimilate and make friends (not that I really wanted to be friends with most of cunty bitches living on my floor anyhow), but Halloween fell in the middle of the week, so I couldn't go home to celebrate.  I had Tai Chi class that night and as per my apres Tai Chi ritual, I hit up the campus cafeteria.  I bought myself a pint of Edy's cookie dough ice cream, and returned to my dorm where I sadly devoured the entirety of its contents alone (I could have been on an episode of Dr. Phil for my closet-binge eating ways, looking back). I'm pretty sure that happened the following year as well.  So sad for a girl in the prime of her life, I know.  

The first year that I transferred to Oneonta, I actually did make friends, however, for some reason, my plans for celebrating fell through, yet again.  I was commuting my first year at Oneonta, so I drove home from class and in my despair, I downed an entire bottle of pink champagne to my face.  I was so utterly depressed to be spending another Halloween alone.  I ended up throwing up, and passing out in bed before my family came home.  How, fucking shameful.  I think that was the last time before I decided it is NEVER acceptable to drink alone.

The next year, is the best story of them all.  I dressed up as a Victoria's secret angel, and had these awesome homemade wings:

I wore a relatively conservative costume, despite the fact I was dressed as a Victoria's secret Angel.  I mean, I saw waaaaayy sluttier girls dressed as bumble bees and beer wenches, with their DD titties exploding from the sausage casings they had climbed into, thinking they were hot shit.  I had on high-waisted panties for God's sake, and a short, silky robe over the entire ensemble.  The night before Halloween, my best friend suggested we go to a costume party at a pub in Greene.  After a few drinks, she persuaded me to take off my robe, and then when I did, some girl called me a slut, and one of my guy friends threatened to beat her up (he was defending my honor, I was still a virgin at the time).  We left shortly after he threatened her, and made our way back to our home town.  We went to this sketchy drug dealer's place (he happened to be "friends" with another one of our guy friends) and I ended up partaking in a white, illegal substance.  I'm not ashamed to admit it.  I was 21 and it hasn't happened since, so whatever.  Live and learn.  Besides, it's not like I spent my money on it.  However, the next day I had a severely depressing come down, and spent the better half of the day moping about my apartment back in Oneonta.  Making matters even more depressing, was the fact that the party that I had planned on attending that night was cancelled for some reason, and then the friend I lived with stayed in to take care of her sick boyfriend (please note, I would have done the same thing if I had a boyfriend at the time, so no hard feelings :) ).  However, I was single, and ready to mingle, so I refused to stay home.  My other friend wanted to go to another costume party somewhere in our hometown, but after being called a 'slut' the prior night, I wasn't about to wear my costume anywhere in the hometown vicinity.  I ended up going out to the bars with a new friend from work, who abandoned me in a crowded bar to go chase down the guy she was interested in.  I was left standing sad and alone, searching desperately for her amongst the crowd.  When I found her, she said she felt ill and I escorted her to the bathroom where she threw up and proceeded to scribble, "____ is a douche" on the bathroom stall while I consoled her.  I don't harbor any ill feelings towards her at all though, because lord only knows how many people have had to track down my drunk ass or take care of me while I cried and puked (I'm sorry everyone who has had to deal with my drunk, emo self).  I had to keep taking my wings off, because they were too big to wear inside the crowded bars, and at the last bar of the night, I walked out to find them missing from the spot where I had tucked them away.  I fucking built these wings out of cardboard, hot glue, sweat and love, feather by fucking feather, and some drunk asshole stole them.  (I've since built another pair, but these were my favorite).  I went home sad and alone that night, and cried myself to sleep.  

I'm sure some of you are thinking, "boo hooo cry me a fucking river, you totally deserved it, "  and perhaps I did. Lol.  I just don't know how my Halloween plans always go to shit when I put so much time into these awesome costumes.  Oh well.  Here's to hoping someday my place is big enough to throw my own Halloween party, and I will be as next-to-naked as I want in the comfort of my own home (granted I don't consume 10 lbs of baked goods the week prior).  

Honey

I'm craving honey for my tea right now, but I am too lazy to walk the single block to the grocery store to procure some.  I have a THIRD interview with Anthropologie on Monday, which is pretty exciting because having no job is driving me insane in the membrane.  Let's hope I get it (if I don't it's back to the ol' grind of staring at my computer screen for 4 hours straight searching for jobs as my eyes burn out of their sockets).  I am pretty sure my skin hates this city, and the breakout I am currently experiencing on my face is the worst of my life.  I'm talking acne on the cheeks, and that has NEVER happened to me before.  It's fucking awful and detrimental to my already fragile self confidence.  I don't know if it is the air, the water, or both, but city living is not at all conducive to my most aesthetically pleasing self.  Two days after I moved down here, I broke out in (yet another) mysterious rash.  Thinking it would go away by itself, I let it slide and attributed it to the new body lotion I had purchased, but when I started spreading to my lower abdomen and across my sides, I freaked and scheduled an appointment with the dermatologist.  It turned out to be pytoriasis rosacea, and non-fungal, non-contagious skin rash that many people get between the ages of 14-35.  The dermatologist gave me a creme and said it could take 4-6 weeks  before it completely disappeared.  Lucky for me, it didn't spread to my face or hands, and it's almost all but gone now.  I really don't know why this shit happens to me.  I like to think I'm a fairly healthy person, I mean, I very rarely get colds.  She said that the stress of the move may have caused the rash.  But now, I'm dealing with a whole new monster- acne.  I've always been prone to get the occasional zit like once a month, but this shit is just out of control.  I'm not even consuming as much sugar as I was at home, and I feel like I'm eating way healthier here, so I don't know what the fuck gives.  I just know that by the time 3pm on Monday rolls around, my face better be looking top fucking notch so my chances of getting hired are high.

On another body image related note, I'm convinced the hipster bitches of Williamsburg just don't eat.  Honestly, I'm not sure how people carry out normal social lives in this town, going out to dinner with friends or out for drinks multiple times per week and maintain skeletal figures.  Clearly they don't eat all fucking day so they can afford themselves two glasses of wine or a couple bites of salad.  I don't even know how guys find them attractive.  I know that I'm thin, but Jesus fucking Christ, these girls take it to a whole new level.  Honestly, do guys really want to bang someone that thin?  I can only imagine how nasty they look with clothes off, seeing as how they look like skeletons with clothes on.  I once made out with a guy who was really thin and his hipbone stabbing me the entire time was a pretty big turn off.

My mom came to visit this weekend, so after investing money and approximately 40 hours into the building and sewing of my awesome Corpse Bride costume, I am not attending the party where I had planned to wear it.  See?  I told you that my Halloween plans always go to shit.  Lol.  Maybe I'll just put it on this week and prance around the apartment to get some good wear out of it.  Sigh.  I'm starting to have an entire closet full of hand made costumes that I've never even had the chance to wear out.  So sad.  I still don't have a full-length mirror either, thanks to my Amazon account's 'one click shipping,' I forgot to change my address and the mirror went upstate.  I've probably looked like a complete asshole for the past month since I can never see my full outfit after getting dressed and only seeing how I look from the chest up.  Furthermore, my order from Forever 21 came yesterday, and that shit was all fucked up too.  I'm just having an awful week.  The pleather, pleated skirt I was STOKED to get, was apparently out of stock, and I wasn't even notified until it didn't show up in the box yesterday.  That was a heartbreaker.  And then the awesome sweater I ordered is made for like, a 5'9" big boned Amazonian type, and overwhelms my tea cup poodle frame.  And THEN, the sequined hot shorts I got were all frumpy dumpy and scrunchy when I put them on and made me look like Froto Baggins... can't a girl get a break?!  Good Lawd!


I'm sorry that this entire post has been a bitch fest.  But then again I'm not sorry because you're the one that chose to read it. lol.  I can't wait until this interview is over; I think depending on how well it goes, I will go upstate and spend a few days at home afterward.  And if I do get the job, I'm treating myself to those festive riding pants ASAP.

The Frumpy Dumpster's Guide to Living Alone

I am currently sitting here with a bath robe on over my regular day clothes (the thermostat says it's 75 degrees, but my nails were turning blue from being cold), and I have been contemplating how pathetic my days have been since quitting my job three weeks ago.  I'm not complaining, not by any means.  If I wanted to paint a masterpiece, I have the time now (I just don't want to spend $80 on a canvas).  I've just been thinking that while I look for another job, perhaps I should fill my days with volunteer work at an animal shelter or something more beneficial to others.  Sitting here in a fleecy robe really does make me question how I ever even get hit on... if people only knew this is the girl I turn into when I'm home alone, I'm sure I would never get hit on, a drink bought for me, or offered money for sex ever again (yes, shamefully that happened the other night, and I wasn't even dressed like a slut):

Me:  Frumpy Dumpster l'extrodanaire! 

I figured I would write a brief guide for any other frumpy dumpsters out there who may have recently quit their jobs and now find themselves with some spare time on their hands, or any frumpsters who have recently found themselves living alone.  

Benefits to Finally Living Away from the Family

Now that I am finally out of the house I grew up in (after an extended grace period of apres-graduation living), my family is showing me the type of love I knew I deserved all along and never got.  Instead of calling to bitch at me about the mess I left in the kitchen, or that empty box of orange juice I stuck back in the fridge, my parents call to see how I am doing and check in on almost a daily basis.  My dad told me he loved me for the first time in like, 5 years the other day.  The last time he told me he loved me, I was on Christmas break from FIT and having a mental breakdown and threatening suicide (don't worry, I never meant it... I was just emotionally distraught and needed people to know how shitty I felt inside... it was my final and most extreme tactic to throw out such an offensive threat).  It was nice to hear him say those words, even though I know he loves me regardless of whether or not he tells me.  My mom (who has been my foe since the age of eleven, and to whom I am unjustifiably mean at times), has started calling me "hunny" when she says 'good bye' on the phone.  I find it humorous that the woman who once told me I don't make friends because I'm 'too bitchy,' is now calling me by the terms of endearment she used when I was five.  Just tonight, I was talking with my mom and she told me that I should treat myself to some new clothes.  I'm glad she thinks that even though I am currently unemployed, I am worthy of dropping some of my hard earned savings on to buy clothes.  It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside, and I may just take her advice.  

Filling One's Time

Since I am currently unemployed, and I can only spend so much of my time job searching and sending out resumes, I find myself with a large chunk of free time on my hands.  I spent pretty much all of last week entertaining various friends who came to visit.  However, this week I have had no real plans to go out and socialize.  I have started to remind myself of Hugh Grant's character in "About a Boy," when he talks about filling up his days in chunks of thirty minute intervals.  I never really have been one to sleep in, but I'm capitalizing on the fact that for the first time in...oh, almost my whole life, I can have a solid eight-hour slumber on a nightly basis.  I spent the last few months of my life either getting home from work at 11:30pm, or waking up at 4am to be there at 6am.  I think I deserve some fucking sleep, no?  I've been setting my alarm for 8:00 am, but hitting snooze and waking up around 9 instead.  I then have two or three leisurely cups of coffee while checking emails and sitting at the computer.  Around 10, I shower and get myself ready for the day.  Usually, a decent chunk of time is spent taking a walk with my sister and niece or running errands.  It's amazing, and you may not believe me, but all of the last two weeks were spent getting my apartment put together.  It's amazing how much time a trip to Ikea can take, or how much time one can spend online comparing table cloths and shopping around for the perfect one.  I probably spent 4 total hours last week shopping around for the perfect floor-mirror.  And building all the new furniture that I've ordered... oh my god!  It took almost 6 total hours to assemble a dresser and 250 lb. wardrobe from Ikea all by myself!  I have also been working on my book.  It's the little things that one wouldn't normally have the luxury of taking the time to do, that I am now able to enjoy.  For example, two days ago, I spent a total of three hours from start to finish, making vegetarian meat(less) balls.  They were fucking delicious and the recipe was from my own head.  I should just start cooking painstakingly slow foods all the time.  

The 'Living Alone' Diet

Sure I have all the time in the world to cook things like butternut squash soup and vegetarian meat(less) balls now, but it's not like I have a family coming home to serve them to on a nightly basis.  I haven't even made a conscious effort to stop eating meat (even though it's been something I have been wanting to do for a while), but in the last three weeks, I haven't eat meat more than once.  I did have sushi and squid, so while my diet isn't vegetarian, it is pescatarian.  That may explain the huge, blue bruise that mysteriously appeared on my thigh, as well as the reason why I have been freezing for the past few days... maybe tomorrow I should invest in some iron pills or a good multi-vitamin.  Perhaps it is time for some red meat... sadly, my dad isn't around to buy, prepare, and grill steaks for me.  Not that I couldn't do it myself, it's just that I don't want to.  Today for lunch I had frozen yogurt from Sixteen Handles.  I could probably eat that twice daily, every day, and never grow tired of it. I justify it by the fact it has protein and calcium... and it's fucking delicious.

Things to Capitalize on While Living Alone and Being Jobless

*Walking around in undies (as long as the blinds are closed)

*Fro Yo for Lunch, or maybe even dinner...

*Peeing with the door open

*playing freaky deaky music (a la 'the Knife') without anyone passing judgement

*Decorating your place to your specifications and not having to compromise because of another person's tastes

*Watching Tim Burton movies non stop (mostly because you don't have cable)

*doing a full face of costume make up during the day, just to see what you would look like as a cartoon

*Sleeping in past the hour where most people crawl out of bed to go to work

*Taking leisurely walks during the day... when the sun is actually out, and the sky is blue

(you don't know what torture is until you've spent the last year of your life working in a dark, dungeon like store where the lights are so dim you may one day go blind, and the music so loud, you're already probably on the way to going deaf)

*The ability to online shop to find that perfect table cloth or coat stand

*Discovering exciting new things- like the website where I can have a photograph printed on a canvas to hang as giant artwork (hello Christmas gifts!)

*Doing the things you never had time to do when you were working 10 hour days, 6 days a week:  Like finishing that book, or making a new painting... all the things you forgot you even liked to do because you were too tired.

*Seeing your precious, baby niece be cute 

*Learning to appreciate your parents, now that you don't have to live with them. 

When You're Lonely at Night

When you have watched all of the Tim Burton you can stomach, or your eyes hurt from staring at monster.com, FB, and urbanoutfitters.com, you may find yourself befuddled as to how to spend your late evening hours.  You could walk off that fro yo you ate, because the neighborhood is always interesting and well lit (unlike that scary corner on your hill upstate).  You could read a book (I need some new reading material), or work on that book you're writing (I am at a depressing part in my time line and I get to sad to write at night), or you could watch the videos you have on your phone of the cat that you had to leave at home and miss beyond belief.  I am not ashamed to admit that before I doze off at night, I like to watch videos of bijou being cute on my phone. hahaha.  I'm pathetic.  You could also call your brother and harass him, because even he misses you now that you're out of the house.