Just Kidding

I'm not done yet.

Just got off the phone with my doctor, who informed me that the blood lab, rather than performing a Factor 7 Activity Level test like instructed, performed a Factor 8 Activity Level test. Now, I'm not quite panicking yet because they said they can rush the results for the correct test and have them in either this evening or tomorrow morning.

Now, my doctor originally said the results could be in tomorrow and I'd be fine, so that's... good at least. The only problem is that they were supposed to be in yesterday or today, so that my doctor had ample time to speak to my hematologist in case my risk factor had gone up (which I still don't understand, given as I have the gene, and do not have hemophilia) but she thinks surgery should go on as planned. The only issue would be if the results changed, but they still would have the Factor 7 on hand just in case, so I have no idea what the fucking issue is. Just order freaking extra, if you're worried.

This is ridiculous. All of this could've been avoided if they'd just told me in ADVANCE that I needed this test done. Then the lab could've fucked up and it wouldn't be an issue. Now, of course, I get to go home and spend the entire train ride worrying that something will be off, and I won't be able to have surgery on Monday. I swear to god, if I don't have surgery, I will kill someone. Happily.

Last Minute Craziness

Days till Surgery: 3
Days till Old Age: 12

So today is the day I pack up my comfiest pajamas, make sure all the food in my apartment that could go bad is thrown away, and prepare for a week full of surgery, recovery, and eating entirely too much ice cream at home in Hull.

I am, most unfortunately, at work for the better part of the day today, although I get to leave early to make sure I have enough time to get everything together and actually get to the train on time. For those of you that have had the immense pleasure of traveling with me, you know I like to be early for any train/plane/automobile I may be taking. When I travel Amtrak, for instance, I arrive precisely an hour early, and I sit in the seat closest to the gate, so that when it comes time to line up, I can leap up, push aside the elderly and any small children, and guarantee that I have a window seat. You never know - sometime the train comes from Virginia, and the good seats are few and far between.

I also need extra time to finish packing, even though I have been packing for several days now. I always cause immense levels of stress in those around me when I pack, because I can never make up my goddamn mind. Even when I'm going home to basically sit on my ass for a week, I spend hours stressing over which pajama shirt best goes with which pair of pajama pants - because you never know who may come bursting in your room and judge you on your outfit. Hey, it could happen.

Oh honey, those striped Victoria's Secret loungewear pants are so last season!

So I have much to do when back at my apartment, and a few things to actually do at work before I can take my week long pseudo-vacation. For instance, upon arrival in the office this morning, I had to tally up the first round of the Sweet 16 scores, and see where we all stood in our office pool. If that's not important, earth shattering work, then I just don't know what is. Unfortunately, I am in a tight spot, as I'm currently in last place...

...but! A few of the guys have teams going all the way to the last two (or even winning the entire thing) that have already been knocked out, and since those rounds are obviously worth more points, I may be able to turn the table at the last minute. C'mon, UCLA and UNC! Especially UNC - if I don't win this, heads will roll. Literally.

Once I get home, things will hardly slow down, at least for the weekend. This morning my brother is having oral surgery (goodbye, wisdom teeth!) so I'll spend the weekend helping my parents make sure he's suitably comfortable, and trying to help out as much as I can. I'd feel really bad if he was still really in pain and then I went and had my surgery and stole their attention away, so hopefully things will even out and he'll be in good shape once it's my turn to have Operation played on me. Why we're having surgery so close together I don't know - I don't think anyone really realized what was going on until both had already been planned and it was almost show time. Now we're all looking sheepish and going "Oooh yeah... damnit!" At any rate, this will be one very interesting long weekend.

So now I must say adieu, my loyal readers. I won't be updating for a few days - at least until I can sit up and attempt coherent thought. Hopefully I'll have an update on Wednesday or Thursday, if all goes well. I'm crossing my fingers and already dreaming of a giant vat of Coffee Heath Bar Crunch ice cream. Here's to our dreams.

ANTM Hurts My Brain

Days till Surgery: 4
Days till Old Age: 13

Now, usually, ANTM always hurts my brain: the girls are shockingly loud and obnoxious, the pictures are usually hilarious, Tyra is always completely insane, the J(ay)s frighten me, and the judges always pick the least talented, least model-esque girls to "continue on towards becoming America's Next Top Model." This week, however, things were thrown around a bit, and for once I'm almost at a loss for words. Almost. In order to better tackle this conundrum, I've put this week's pictures in order of call out, from best to worst:

Whitney: Grunge

Okay, well, I'm torn on this one. I'm so happy that they're finally taking a plus sized model seriously, and I love Whitney, I reall do. I think she's gorgeous and talented and I'm so happy to see her holding her own. At the same time, all of her goddamn pictures have the same face - that slack jawed, slightly dazed, slightly surprised look that kind of makes you cringe, cause you don't want any flies buzzing in there or whatever. I mean this picture looks great (if rather The Crow-esque) but I was hoping we'd see more from her than just an open mouth. So I'm a little surprised that she was called out first. Tyra, what are you thinking?


Katarzyna: Emo

Now this picture deserved to get the first call out, in my humble opinion. Katarzyna looks absolutely stunning here, and finally proves that she's not just some mail-order pin-up bride from Russia. This picture alone shows just how versatile she is, and how she can rock anything from a lingerie cruise on the Hudson to an Emo photoshoot with lots and lots of black eyeliner and hurt feelings. I'm so happy that Tyra & Co. actually recognize how good she is. I loved her from the beginning and saw a lot of potential in her, so of course I assumed she'd be going home first.


Fatima: Heavy Metal

Now this I don't get at all. Yes, Fatima finally realized that her legs are indeed a part of her body, and finally posed them accordingly, but otherwise the photo is ridiculous. Yes, she finally "got into it" and showed some kind of expression, but she looks like a KISS reject, and rather than it being ~provocative~ it comes across as really scary. Like, hiding under your bed scary. There were a lot of much better pictures this time around, so I have no idea why she was called out so high; I'm thinking Tyra just wants to make a fuss about Fatima actually listening to her for once. Because, you know, listening to Tyra guarantees her a spot among the greats, and all.



Lauren: Pop

I have no idea how this picture expresses "Pop" especially because when I think of the term I envision Miley Cyrus, and oldschool Britney and Christina. But whatever. At any rate, the picture is... okay. I'm glad that Lauren is so much fierce in pictures than she is in person (especially because she's so horrific in person) but this picture leaves much to be desired. It's... just okay. Not great, not terrible, just okay. Like Fatima, I have no idea how she got called out so highly, especially when there are much better pictures still to come. Again I think it's a "listen to Tyra and climb the ranks!" thing which pisses me off.



Anya: Punk Rock

Now this is one of the pictures that should've been called out after the top 2. Anya looks amazing here, and uses her full body (feet, legs, torso, arms, face, etc) to really bring both the pose and the theme of the shot to life. She does a much better job than Fatima and Lauren, yet is called out after. Which again makes me want to beat my head off my desk. Although, like Katarzyna, I liked Anya from the beginning, so I was anticipating her going home right away. At any rate, she actually rocks her ridiculous platinum 'do here, so I'm happy for now. I just hope she ends up kicking some ass in the future, and doesn't get stuck so low in the pecking order.



Dominique: Folk

Do you know what this is? This is a dude in a dress. A dude, in a dress. There's nothing even remotely appealing about this picture, and I cannot, for the life of me, understand why she wasn't in the bottom two this week (and especially why her manly ass wasn't sent packing.) Sure, her waist looks kinda small, and I guess the whole outfit and outdoors scene gives her that "Folk" feeling they're going for, but Dominique herself (himself?) brings absolutely nothing to the plate. Ooh, a slight tilt - genius! Clearly that embodies the Folk theme! Ugh. She's so freaking hideous, both in person and in pictures, yet she continues to stay on. Tyra, I know you're doing this just to piss me off, and I'm so sorry to say it's working. Damn you and your lack of a soul!



Stacy Ann: House

Okay, usually I hate Stacy Ann. Like, hate Stacy Ann. With the fury of a thousand suns. But this week I was shocked to find that I really liked her picture. There's something about the pink color against her skin, and her expression and body pose here that I really, really like. And, quite frankly, I'm baffled that she's so low in the call-out order. Sure, it's not overwhelmingly full of emotion, but I thought it was a great shot - something you'd easily see in the pages of Nylon, for example. It just seems very natural and very easy, so I don't get the low call out - especially because she's crazy, and Tyra loves her crazy ass. And Tyra's favorites always get first dibs.



Claire: Country

It kills me to say this, but... I like this picture. A lot. I still would've preferred to see Claire leave over Aimee, but that's mostly because I hate her in person, and I think she looks like a 60 year old dementia patient who's been locked up for years in a psych ward. But this picture is very interesting; soft but it highlights her strong angles feminine, but you get the hint of cowgirl beneath it; kind of plain, but it speaks volumes. So of course it's in the bottom two. Now I'll admit, she's not doing much in this picture unlike some of the others who are bending all over the place, and making more of an outward gesture of emotion, but I think this picture speaks to Claire's ability to just do it - to sit there and still take a good picture. This is the difference between her picture and Dominique's - both of them are just there, but Claire really brings some depth to it. So of course she's in the bottom two? IDK. I also don't get why Claire is STILL the Covergirl of the week! Seriously! She brings nothing entertaining to this show!


Aimee: R&B

And Aimee, once one of my top picks for this competition, goes home tonight. I have to admit that I was wrong in my choice, and I do (mostly) agree with her being sent home. I would of course have wanted Fatima or Dominique to go home instead (especially Dominique, cause that is all new levels of hideous) but Aimee just hasn't had "it" lately. The last few pictures of hers have been boring and uninteresting, and while I love her look, and I really liked her in person, she's falling flat on camera. Sadly, I have to admit it was (probably) her time to go, and I have to keep my fingers crossed and pray that next week, our resident Tranny man is the one sent home. Please, Tyra God, work your magic in my favor for once, okay? Please??

The Trials of (Pre-) Surgery

Days till Surgery: 5
Days till Old Age: 14

So yesterday's post was made before even more insanity went down. Here's what happened:

Like I said yesterday, South Shore Hospital informed me that I had to come in sometime before surgery for blood work. They said Friday morning was fine, as long as I was in before 5pm when they close. It was a pain in the ass, but I started planning a new trip home, and was waiting on my mother to call me back to change my travel arrangements.

Well, then my doctor's office calls, and informs me that no, I cannot have the blood work done on Friday, as that specific test has a WEEK turnaround time, and we're going to have to reschedule surgery. EXCUSE ME??? You do not schedule an over-the-phone consultation 6 DAYS before surgery, then inform me that I HAVE to take a test that has a WEEK turnaround time. On what planet does that make sense?? I'd talked to my doctor and several people in her office numerous times since scheduling my surgery (which was, by the way, weeks ago) and not once did they inform me that I needed more blood work. My doctor even said I didn't need a real pre-op, since I'd already had the surgery before, and all my blood work was up to date.

Obviously, I freaked out. I've been anxious for days now because of surgery, and my hormones are touchy as hell as it is, being on the Lupron, so hearing that I might have to rearrange all my travel, fight with work to move my schedule around, and have to wait another week for surgery (meaning it would be 2 days before my birthday, which is no fun) pretty much pushed me over the edge.

My doctor spoke with my hematologist who said I had to get the blood work done, but said if I could find a lab in DC that could get the results in by Saturday, I could have the surgery as scheduled on Monday. A million thanks to Sam for pointing me towards LabCorp, a lab on K Street, as I called them and they seemed outraged that the test would have a week turnaround time, as they could do it in 2-3 days. I literally got teary eyed, I was so grateful.

So I called my doctor, informed her that she was doing surgery, and then skedaddled down K Street to get my test done. I was in and out in less than 10 minutes, and now I'm all set (for real this time) for surgery! I understand that my doctor is very busy, and really likes to take all possible precautions, but this was just insane. If you really want me to have a test that's practically needless, at least tell me beforehand, so you don't fuck up my entire schedule. It's so horrifically unfair to announce "well we didn't tell you more than a week before, so we're gonna reschedule!" The surgery itself really isn't all that bad, but all the anticipation and anxiety and stress leading up to it really gets to me, and it's too much to have to push it back.

Sure, you might say I'm being a baby, but I've already had it happen once, and it was a disaster. I went in for surgery the very first time, was hooked up to an IV and ready to go, when they announced that some ridiculous test (not a standard test at ALL) had shown I had the gene for the Factor 7 Deficiency - and I had to go home. The test is almost never preformed (and shows just how ridiculously slight my deficiency is) and obviously I was fine, as I'd already had my wisdom teeth out, and if I really had hemophilia, I would've died a horrible, bloody death in the operating room. I'm all for better safe than sorry, but not when it fucks my mind and body over. At least give me some damn warning so we can schedule accordingly.

So, enough ramblings - I'm coming home as planned on Saturday morning, having surgery as planned on Monday morning, and hopefully all will be well. Although if I get another call about yet another issue, I'm gonna start snapping necks left and right, so I might end up in prison - and that wouldn't be good.

I'm Screwed

Days till Surgery:6
Days till Old Age: 15

Royally screwed.

I spoke with South Shore Hospital today (if you couldn't guess, it's where I'm having my surgery done) and they informed me that I had to - not if I wanted to, or was inclined to, but had to - come in for blood work prior to my surgery. Problem? They're only open on weekdays, and I'm not going home until Saturday morning. with surgery at 11am on Monday morning, there's obviously no time to come in and have any work done. But, as I said, they stressed that I had to go in.

Of course I've already booked my train home, which means I get to cancel the train, pay the cancellation fee, rebook the train, pay the extra amount, come home a day and a half earlier, take a day and a half more off of work, and attempt not to lose my mind over all of it.

Now, it's great that they're so fastidious about blood work, especially because I have the gene for Factor 7 Deficiency, but the point is, I only have the gene. Technically I do not have hemophilia, it just shows up on certain tests because I carry the gene. The only time anyone is at risk for fun side effects like bleeding into their brain is if I mate with someone else that carries the gene, and 1 out of our 4 children actually contracts the Deficiency. But they still want me to come in to make sure everything's okay, which is fine with me, it really is - better safe than sorry. But it's a hell of a lot to smooth out in order to actually take this precaution.

So now I have a mother who's MIA (how, pray tell, does a Kindergarten teacher go MIA?), a father who's dealing with my grandmother who just had surgery, a brother who's having oral surgery either that Thursday or Friday, and one big mess of a fucked up schedule. I feel like a liquid lunch is in order today - preferably several martinis, with lots of olives.

Surgery, Travel, and March Madness

Days till Surgery: 7
Days till Old Age: 16

So today marks the beginning of several week's worth of insanity. It also marks the beginning of my downfall in our office's NCAA Bracket, but I'll get to that in a minute.

This week is a whirlwind of last minute preparation before surgery next week, including a few doctor's appointments, making sure my surgeon has Factor 7 on hand (just in case I decide to start bleeding profusely out of embarrassing orifices), finishing the limerick book drawings for my mother's Kindergarten class, packing, pre-op stuff, and traveling. Oh, traveling.

I'm heading up to Boston on Friday night, taking my old standby, Amtrak's Regional Overnight. Some people hate taking the train, and I'll admit that it can be difficult to spend anywhere from 8-12 hours (depending on whether or not there are delays) stuck in one seat, but the way I look at it? I'd much rather be comfortable and on my ass for hours on end, than plummeting out of the sky when a plane has a mechanical failure and crashes to the ground in a massive, fiery explosion. Unless I ended up on the Lost island... hmm...

Now this should cure my fear of flying!

Surgery is on Monday, then it's a week on my ass for recovery/binge eating/chocolate consumption. Then, MOST unfortunately, I do have to fly back on Sunday the 6th. I wanted to take the train, but I feel like 8+ hours on a rumbling, shaking train probably isn't the best way to travel so soon after having surgery. I mean, I'm mobile again after about 3 days, so by that Sunday I'll be feeling much better, but still, I figure it's best not to risk it. I'd be so pissed if I felt good, then got on a train and fucked myself over.

So yes, I'm flying, and I'm taking Jet Blue and I'll probably be on lots and lots of happy pills so I can do it, but oh well. You gotta do what you gotta do.

So I get back on Sunday night, and go back to work on Monday. On Wednesday I turn 23 (speaking of which, I found another gray hair this morning - delightful!) and immediately lapse into a coma of self-despair. Luckily, I'm going to the Celtics game that night, and watching then crush the Wizards (while drinking copious amounts of FREE alcohol in our company's Box Seats) will surely cheer me up. Nothing says "Happy Feelings" like booze and basketball.

¡feliz cumpleaños!

I hope the bar in the Box has Margaritas.

The very next day, I drag my hungover ass out of bed, and roll into yet another Amtrak seat, as I'm whisked away back to Boston for my post-op appointment, and more birthday celebrations. Hopefully by this point I'll be walking with ease, and the train shouldn't hurt too badly. I seriously considered flying back and forth for this weekend, but the idea of flying literally makes me so nervous I want to cry, and since I'm already subjecting myself to it once this month, I decided to risk the train. If the appointment were any earlier, I'd fly, but I lucked out. I think. I hope.

Anyway.

I was hoping that after this weekend's NCAA college basketball games, I would at least have the Office Bracket to cheer me up. As of Round 1, I was firmly in second place in our office, with an impressive score of 44 points (which, okay, was only 2 points more than the person in third place, but that's beside the point.) Well, this morning I added up the points after Round 2, and realized...

...What the fuck, I'm in last damn place! By 4 points! When my boss first announced we were doing a bracket, I didn't even want to participate. Sure, I know the basics of the NCAA; I know who's good and who sucks, I know who's favored to win and who isn't, but I had no burning desire to get caught up in the mayhem of it all, especially considering I'm the only female in my office, and everyone takes it very seriously indeed.

But then I got roped into doing it, and now I'm freaking out about it. We're all getting so competitive it's ridiculous, stooping so low as to count and re-count our tally, even when we all know that everyone in the office has counted each sheet about 20 times. One miscount turned into a massive brouhaha, and I'm not sure I've ever seen a certain co-worker so riled up about, well, anything. It was somewhat impressive.

I will fuck your shit up

At any rate, I now know why they call it March "Madness." Talk about insanity. I'm hoping that UNC continues to kick ass - I have them going all the way, and beating UCLA to take home the title. Of course I had Georgetown in my Final 4, and Davidson kicked their stupid ass, so who knows. As long as UCLA and Memphis keep going, and UNC stays strong, I'll be all set. I better fucking win this bracket - there's not only Nat's tickets on the line, there's my pride.

Pros and Cons of DC

Days till Surgery: 10

Days till Old Age: 19

Happy Good Friday! Since I'm not sure what Good Friday actually is (is it the day Jesus actually died? And is Easter the day when zombie Jesus comes back to feast on the living? I dunno, I'm a Jew) I decided that my time was better spent today debating the pros and cons of living in our nation's Capital. DC is a... funny city, for a variety of reasons. Read on.

Northwest DC

Pros:

1. DC is a beautiful city
This is mostly true. At least for the Northwest Quadrant and parts of Northeast. The monuments are spectacular, much of the architecture is European and breathtaking, there's a lot of greenery and flowers for an urban setting, the river views are beautiful, and nothing can beat the view of driving in from Arlington, and seeing the city sprawl out in front of you.

2. Springtime in DC is unbeatable
Okay, this I have to admit - DC springs are amazing. The Cherry Blossoms are out in full swing, everything's green and lush, flowers sprout everywhere, and it's gorgeous. Add all the nature into the beauty of the monuments (and all of the midday and midnight monument tours) and it's really something incredible.

3. Action movies and political thrillers are filmed here
Where else would you go to film a movie about the president's son being kidnapped and held for ransom by stereotypical Russian terrorists with names like Hanz Van Evilstein? Some of the biggest, baddest names in Hollywood flock to DC to film against the backdrop of the White House, the Capital, and the other various landmarks that are peppered over the city. Add in the plethora of Ambassadors and foreign officers, and you have yourself a summer blockbuster.

4. It stays warm right through Halloween
This is an important one, because I hate being cold on Halloween. It's the one night of the year when you're expected - even encouraged - to go outside in the skimpiest lingerie imaginable, and no one wants to parade around mostly-naked if the temperature's dipping into the 30's. Spring may be the best time of year in DC, but the fall's damn nice too.


Okay, well, there are my pros. Not very numerous, but certainly good for something. Right? Onward to the cons...

Southeast DC

Cons

1. Paradoxically, DC is also architecturally boring and drab
There's something strange about a city that declares that no building can be as high as the top of the Capital. A lack of sky scrapers sometimes is the kicker to really making you feel like you're not quite in the busting metropolis that you were hoping to be in. And for every monument and pretty garden, there are 50 buildings in the same drab, grayish, creamish color, stretching on and on as far as the eye can see. It gets old fast.

2. Wintertime in DC is brutal
I really expected DC to have a much warmer winter than Boston, and don't get me wrong, it definitely is warmer. By about 10 degrees. So when Boston is 17 degrees, I get the thrill of knowing I can skip to work in... 27 degree weather. Yeah, not quite the huge difference I'd anticipated. And what's brutal about DC is that not only is the cold absolutely biting (and I say this coming from Boston) , the wind is brutal - absolutely brutal. I've never felt anything like it before. I'm assuming part of the problem is the architectural layout of the city, because certain blocks are always horrific wind tunnels while others aren't, but the sheer onslaught of the wind during the winter months is enough to send anyone running to warmer climates.

3. Summertime in DC is equally as brutal
Most people forget that DC was, largely, built on former swamp ground, unless they're unlucky enough to spend a summer in the District. I never spent much of the summer months down here when I was in school, but every trip down made me instantly regret coming. The humidity is so heavy it nearly squashes you, and you can feel it weighing heavily on your shoulders with every step you take. You do lose, like, 10 pounds from sweating all your water weight out, but then you die of dehydration, so it's not entirely a win-win situation.

4. DC is a one trick pony
People go to DC for one reason, and one reason only: Politics. It's why I came here in the first place - like every wide-eyed, innocent student lucky enough to get into Georgetown or GW's Elliot School, I migrated to the Capital to learn International Affairs and Political Science from the best of them. Then I realized several things: I was crap at Economics, I wasn't a rabid crazy political junkie, and I wanted to major in something that would allow me optimal boozing time (aka, English.) Now that I've graduated and I'm actually living here, it's all about the field I'm not in. It was fine in college, because everyone had different majors, and people were still mingling with each other, but the adult populace of our fair city is only interested in yapping on and on about which Senator did this, and which Lobbyist group did that, and what intern's posing for Playboy, etc etc. It gets very old, very fast. Unless you're Eliot Spitzer, and then this place is one hell of a good time.

5. Everyone wants you on their side
Like I mentioned in Wednesday's post, DC is the place to go to stage a protest. You can protest the war, you can protest the President, you can protest women not having the right to choose, you can protest women having the right to choose, you can even protest the government conspiracy that stripped you of you home and money and put tracking devices in your ears (yes, I'm talking about you, that crazy old man outside of the McPherson Square metro station) - you name it, you got it. But that means that for all of the warm months in DC, you have to put up with the crazy screaming, drum banging, and general mayhem of large mobs of people going insane. As awesome as it is the first few times, it gets old fast.

6. Nightlife? Really?
Okay, sure, there are some good nightlife options in DC. Some. But there's not a lot, and after awhile, you get sick of the whole thing. First of all, something like 80% (okay I might be exaggerating) of the city is comprised of gay males, and the rest of the male population is fat, ugly, and thinks they're poised to become the next scandal-buttered Senator. It makes bar hopping kind of a bummer. And when the metro closes at 1am, and the clubs close at 1:30am, not only are you stranded because you can't get home, you're also a shitfaced mess because, you know, everywhere closes so goddamn early that you have to chug the bar down before it's too late. So then you're wasted and stranded, and wake up the next morning in a dumpster behind a Starbucks, wondering what the hell happened, and wondering if there's any coffee still fresh somewhere beneath you.


Okay, so, as you can see, there are good points and bad points to living in DC. Personally, I think the bad outweigh the good. By a LOT. Like, a LOT a lot. I'm not that political (moreso than most people, but nothing compared to the citizens of DC), I hate the cold and the crazy humidity, I'm tired of the East Coast, and I'm ready for one hell of a change. And I think, after reading this, you'll agree with me. Unless you're that homeless dude, cause no matter how many tracking devices and bugs he thinks the government planted in his brain, he's still a loyal citizen, and you can't beat that kind of dedication.

Hippies on a Warm Spring Breeze

Days till Surgery: 12
Days till Old Age: 21

Oh hey, that's a palindrome. If you put the numbers next to each other. Anyway.

Today is a glorious day in the District, because apparently someone has declared it "Protest Season." Protest Season is the time where every young, unwashed hippie (and every old, unshaven senior citizen - man or woman) is blown into DC on a springtime gust of wind. One day you're meandering down the street on your way to work, studiously ignoring every other exhausted looking yuppie, and the next day, people wearing tutus and capes (oh, I'm serious) are frolicking down K Street, waving flags and beating on drums.

Now, don't get me wrong, I support some protests. One of the best experiences of my life was the 2004 March for Women's Lives in which thousands and thousands of people marched through the city in support of a woman's right to choose, and a woman's right to easily accessible birth control. It was something I felt very strongly about, and it was a march that was run smoothly and efficiently. People really came together for a real cause - and one we could actively fight. And just last fall, Erin and I went to an anti-war protest rally, in support of our troops. The general feel was that we had to oppose the war but support our troops (my stance all along) but people knew you couldn't just up and walk right out of Iraq, because that is illogical.

But for every well thought out march or protest, or smart, eloquent group, there are the rest of the crazy ass protesters that storm the streets and make you want to snap their peace loving necks. Take, for instance, Code Pink. Sure, these women are really trying to get the attention of the government, and they feel very strongly about ending the war and bringing the troops home, but really? Really, Code Pink? The last time I checked, the least effective way to get people like, oh I dunno, the President and Congress to take you seriously, was to dress up in hot pink prom dresses, don tiaras and pink boas, and run amok in the cavernous underbelly of the Senate. Luckily for everyone, that is exactly what Code Pink does, so no one has to worry about taking them seriously anytime soon. If you're going to go for guerrilla tactics, at least come up with something that doesn't look like you chose your arsenal from the left overs of Pretty Pretty Princess.


As someone who believes in peace, women's rights, and equal rights, it's groups like Code Pink that make me gnash my teeth together and contemplate an existence in a foreign country. But at least they work in huge numbers, and do get a lot of attention. Unlike, for example, my very own Hippie March this morning.

Like I said, today has seemingly brought in the springtime Protests; at McPherson Square there's an... "interesting" anti-war protest with a giant yurt (think: giant dome-like tent) and probably a good four dozen Code Pink-ers, along with far too many men in fatigues that still think we're in 'Nam; at 16th and K there's some kind of strike/protest going on which includes Rastafarian music; and over on 12th street, there's yet another protest outside of the IRS headquarters (okay, I can't blame them for that one.) Luckily for me, however, I was given my very own Three Hippie Protest March, when I had the good luck of getting stuck at a crosswalk with three young people, none of whom had showered in at least half a decade.

Armed with a rainbow flag broadcasting the word "PEACE" and a drum, my hippies resolutely marched down K Street, banging away, crowing about how awesome this was and how they were totally getting so much attention. Yes, because three gross little buggers with a drum are definitely going to get the government to pull out of Iraq. Brilliant. What they didn't seem to realize was that yes, they were getting plenty of attention, but it was because of two reasons:

1) They're a bunch of unwashed teens carrying a massive and colorful flag, and they're beating on a drum incessantly at 9 in the motherfucking morning, and,

2) Everyone around them is staring at them because they want to kill them, just to shut them the fuck up. Sorry, kids, but that's a surefire way to get your asses killed. Forget the war - pissing people off before they even get to work on a gray March weekday is just asking for it.

I understand that this is DC, and it's the place where everyone flocks to protest, to stand up for what they believe in, and to try to make a difference - I really do. And I support that general mentality, because I've done it, and I feel strongly about keeping the right to do so. But I must admit, that if I see one more goddamn asshole banging on a drum, I won't hesitate to kill them. And you know what? I'll probably get a damn medal of honor for doing so. God bless America.

St. Patrick's Day Revelations

Days till Surgery:14
Days till Old Age: ??

I don't actually know how many days there are till my birthday, because I'm stuck at home today and denied access to the countdown on my desktop calendar. Now, don't get me wrong, I love days off, but today isn't a "it's nice out, fuck the office!" day, or a "I want to go shopping!" day, it's a "ouch, my uterus hurts" day. Fabulous.

However, a well-kept family secret has been unearthed, and despite my cripple-status, today is indeed a day to celebrate! See, my grandmother is a woman who chooses her words carefully. We just assumed she was, you know, gramma, when she'd say things like "I don't like Jewish people" and "the Irish are dirty" but it turns out, she was skillfully using those statements to hoodwink others - because guess what her mother was?

An Irish Jew.

I'm not entirely sure what constitutes an Irish Jew, although I'm envisioning Irish Car Bombs with a shot of Manischewitz, and rabbis getting shitfaced in pubs and fist fighting each other. At any rate, with all those potatoes, at least an Irish Jew would always be guaranteed a never-ending supple of latkes.

Latkes Go Bragh

All this time, and I never knew! Of course I've celebrated St. Patrick's Day by getting roaringly drunk since I was, like, five, but still! I was convinced I was only English and Welsh, and that I never really fit into the angry, drunken, rosy-faced world of the Irish. But I did! All this time! It really explains a few things, doesn't it?

Now I feel like it's my duty to make up for all the times I scoffed at the Irish, or felt slightly out of place in my home city of Boston. I mean, in a city where everyone's named Whitey McGuiness, it could be hard sometimes. As the lone Jew, I was also the lone non-Irish, and there was always that niggling feeling of not fitting in - but now, I'm a part of the gang! Of course I'm moving far away from Boston, but still - it's the point.

So, this St. Patrick's Day, regardless of being trapped inside, I'm raising a pint to you - my Irish brothers and sisters. Let's celebrate our day of drunken debauchery. And thank you, gramma. You may never want anyone to know your heritage, but you have made your alcoholic grandchildren very, very happy indeed.

(Brain) Death Becomes Her

Days till Surgery: 17
Days till Old Age: 25

Good news, Boston folk! I will be coming up for a weekend after my surgery (which means I'll actually be mobile and not a gross pile of whining pain) and I'll be all set to drink and have a good time. I'll be up on Thursday April10th through Sunday, April 13th. Yay! And since I'll be 23 at that point, I'll need to drink away the pain. Bottom's up.

With that said, I most definitely need to drink away the pain after last night's LOST. I spent the entire hour near tears, for a variety of reasons, and almost had a heart attack at the end of the episode. Jin, you bastard, you better be alive and well! To ease the pain, I was linked to EW's assessment of the episode which offers hope and a different take on the episode's end. I think they've hit the nail on the head, especially because the tombstone have the date of death as the day the flight initially crashed. I smell a plan!

And I was super pumped to see that Sun was the last member of the Oceanic 6. I was so afraid she'd stay on the island and risk dying, so it was a very welcomed relief to see otherwise. Although I'm still wondering just how accurate the flash forwards are. They may be 100% set in stone, but it is LOST, and they enjoy pulling the carpet out from underneath us every chance they get. Point in case: last night's evil flash forward and flash backward scenes that totally fucked with our heads.

Maybe next week, just to calm ourselves down, we should be treated to an hour of just this image:

Hell yeah, bitches.

So, that's all I have for today. It's Friday and it's still only 11:30am (exactly) and I've used up my funny/witty/intelligent quotient for the week. Tonight I plan on drinking and passing out (again, because I'm pathetic and fell asleep at 9pm last night, missing LOST and MMAS and had to get caught up this morning at work) and not having to wake up at 8am. Hurray for weekends!!!

America's Next Top PETA Target

Days till Surgery: 18
Days till Old Age: 26

We've seen a lot of crazy photo shoots on ANTM, there's no denying that. There was the model suicide shoot, the smoking effects shoot, the "controversial political issue" shoot, and so on and so forth. But this week, Tyra thought she'd outdo herself by draping the girls in meet, ruining a plethora of potential meals, and exposing va jay jays everywhere to the tastiness that is E Coli. Mmm, where to begin!

But I don't want to get ahead of myself. There were so many highlights before we got to the girls dressing in dead animal carcasses, and it would be a disservice to myself and all my readers if I didn't go into those issues first. So, let's see... we had the girls screaming over everything once again; we had the girls shrieking out the Tyra mail messages again; we had Fatima being a bitch again; we had Amis being a fucking moron again; we had Lauren prove that she's entirely incapable of putting one foot in front of the other again; and we had Dominique prove to the world that she's really a male-to-female transsexual. Again. Seriously, what the fuck Dominique! When people can't tell your gender, at least do something with your hair so they can sort of tell you're supposed to be a female! Is that really too trying??

Okay so, moving on!

Here are the girls' pictures, complete with my very own sassy commentary:

Aimee:

Well... she's not great, but she's not terrible. She's still definitely one of the best looking girls, and she has potential (her walk isn't all that bad) but she needs to bring it up a notch. She's just sort of... there. This picture is whatever. I mean, it didn't land her in the bottom two, but it sure got her close to it. I still think the red hair was a terrible choice - maybe she'd feel better if her head didn't constantly look like it was on fire. Just sayin'.

Claire:

Okay, I don't understand why the fuck Claire is the Cover Model of the Week every damn week! Last cycle Heather was CMoW because she was awesome and everyone lived her. Claire is... well, she's not Dominique and she's not Fatima, so automatically she's okay, but there's nothing special about her. She doesn't do anything that endears us to her. Sure, this picture's pretty good, but that's about all she's got.

Dominique:

Ugh ugh ugh ugh UGH!!! What the fuck, girl? (Girl?) Every single fucking time Dominique went face-to-face with the camera, it was like she was intent on confounding ever viewer. Am I a woman? Or a man? You'll never know! It's called makeup and a hairbrush, even the J(ay)s get it, for fuck's sake. She's just so hideously offensive looking, I can't get over it. And why do the judges insist on picking poses where her leg cellulite and flab are showing? Stop highlighting it! If you want to focus on something, focus on trying to get her to prove she's a woman!

Katarzyna:

Thank god for her. She's beautiful and capable, she won the runway challenge (she's mastered the art of "walking," even if it was a little too quickly) and she can actually pose. I don't understand why the judges keep insisting she looks like a Russian hooker (okay the shoot last week was a little mail order bride-ish, but she was in lingerie and the photographer kept making her pose that way!) but at least they called her out third this week. Lord only knows she should've already gone home by now, given that she's attractive and capable.

Lauren:

Oh, Lauren. I don't know what to do with you. You take fierce pictures, okay? I'll give you that. But you're the most awkward thing I've ever seen in my entire life. At least Heather last cycle could walk. Her idea of walking is to hurry (nearly sprint) down the runway, then turn and dash away just as quickly. Don't you dare get offended with Jaslene "The Chin" Gonzalez asks if you really want to be there - you looked like you were running away from your very worst nightmare. Or maybe Dominique first thing in the morning.

Marvita:

Marvita is the perfect example of why ANTM is absolutely pointless, and why the girls never get any work. Marvita is a joke - she's ugly, she's manly, she can't pose and she can't walk - yet the judges continuously praise her and claim they see real model potential. What? Last time I checked, models weren't based off of horses. Coat hangers, sure, but at least they have a certain "whimsy something" to them. Marvita looks like a crotchety old hose with teeth issues, that should've been put out to pasture ages ago.

Stacy Ann:

Try as I might, I just can't take Stacy Ann seriously. Be it her lap dances, her butt shakes, her squeaky cartoon voice, or the fact that she looks like an ostrich on speed, this girl is just one walking cartoon character. She makes no sense, she's obnoxious, and she's not even remotely model material. Which means that she'll probably end up in the top two at the end of the cycle.

Whitney:

Girl, I love you something fierce! Whitney is beautiful and fabulous, and it makes me so damn happy that she's doing so well in this cycle. She has talent both on the runway (boob falling out aside) and in the shoots, and she's confident and strong without being arrogant. And she stands up for the other girls when Dominique and Marvita & Co. go on the attack. I can't wait to see her beat some serious bitch ass next week! Hopefully she'll end up "accidentally" snapping Fatima in two as well.


And now we move onto the this week's Winner, and this week's Bottom 1.5. You'll see.

Winner: Anya

Okay, this is a fabulous picture, I must admit. Anya has a great body, and she has a very high fashion look right here. She does photograph well, you have to give her that much. She knows what to do with her body in shoots, and she works it well. Her walk is pretty bad, but so is everyone else's, so for now we can overlook that. But in person, it's another story entirely. Why does the Hawaiian girl have a Russian accent? And why hasn't she fixed those monstrous eyebrows? She needs to get herself together, stat.

Bottom Two: Fatima

As usual, Fatima spent the entire hour bitching, complaining, and making fun of everyone around her. Now, some people can do this and it's hilarious (see: Dionne) but that's because she had a heart and was sweet too. Fatima is just an angry, angry bitch. And this week she sucked royally. Her walk was awkward as all, and what the fuck is this picture? She looks like her legs got stuck in concrete, and she's halfheartedly attempting to swivel free. And the face? When the photographers constantly tell you to CHANGE YOUR EXPRESSION, you do! It's for a reason!

Bottom Two (Went Home): Amis

The CW Website doesn't even have Amis' picture up right now. That's probably because it's so horrible it's literally painful. Amis was (as usual) a fucking maniac this episode, showed the world that she doesn't brush her hair, and then tried to play it off like she was just nervous. No, you skipping maniac, you're not nervous, you're an idiot. And a pathetic one, at that. Thank god she's gone - and hopefully, Fatima will be next.

Obama Needs a Slice of Humble Pie

Days till Surgery: 19
Days till Old Age: 27

Girl, you need to sit down and shut that mouth of yours. Sure, you're running for Democratic presidential candidate, but that doesn't give you the right to be a stupid smart ass. Right now, the Republicans are sitting on their enlarged asses, rubbing their hammy palms together gleefully, pleased with how we're still tearing each other new assholes while they all focus on their actual candidate. And sure, we're behind because we still haven't decided on a final candidate, but that means we should be having a friendly election right now, so in the end, people are pleased with the candidate regardless - seeing as that would actually put as on equal ground with the Republicans.

But, we're not. And I suppose I can't entirely blame you, especially seeing as you and Hillary are duking it out in a groundbreaking election. But I can want to smack you in your bratty little mouth.

Okay sure, maybe you don't want to be Hillary's running mate. And maybe you don't want to have her be yours. But that would be a good thing, and for you to be her VP would probably be the best goddamn thing for this country right now. You say "she says I'm not experienced enough to be president - then why would I be experienced enough to be VP???"

Okay, fucker, here's why: Because VP is second in command. Not first, second. And sure, if something should happen you would become president, but that means you are the next best fit for the position. Certainly she'd want you over some of the other Democratic candidates. A Hillary/Obama team would be unstoppable - it'd be what we'd need if McCain chose that manic, evolution-denying, "let's rewrite the Constitution as God commanded it!" Huckabee for his running mate. (But at least Huckabee plays the guitar and doesn't whine like a little bitch - and that's a pretty bad ass combo right there.)

Groupies to the left!

Point is, Obama, you're not ready to be president - but you're ready to be VP. Guaranteed at least 4 years, and probably 8 with a winning ticket, you would finally have the experience to go along with your enthusiasm and charisma. You could earn the respect and trust of all the people that are on the fence about you right now, and you could be hugely responsible for ushering in an unprecedented 12, even 16 years of peace and prosperity for this country.

So stop being a douche. Stop whining. Stop attacking Hillary. Sure, she needs to step off a bit too, but at least she's putting the offer out there and extending the proverbial olive branch. Now listen up: if you keep ripping at her, and further dividing the two camps, some Democrats could choose not to vote for her. They may not vote at all. And then we're playing right into the Republican's hopes - if we divide ourselves, the Republicans win. So shut the fuck up and play nice. Thanks.

I Want MY Govenor To Get Laid!

Days till Surgery: 20
Days till Old Age: 28

Okay, so this is how my evening ritual goes:

1. Sit ups/Push ups/Lunges
2. Floss/Brush teeth/Mouth wash
3. Take out Contacts
4. Retreat to Bed

I usually sleep with the tv on, because I have issues falling asleep when it's too quiet (my mind wanders, and I end up debating with myself, then suddenly it's 5am and I haven't actually gotten any sleep.) I like the noise in the background, and it helps that since I have an HD tv but no cable, the channels come in somewhat blurred, so it's not too bright and doesn't keep me up.

Anyway, last night I had just crawled into bed and was happily curled up, when I heard something very interesting on the news. (Yes, I was lame last night and went to bed around 11.) It was on ABC, and they were discussing the hilariously ironic issue of Governor Elliot Spitzer's involvement in a prostitution ring. Now, I don't know who they were discussing it with, but it was a woman who proudly declared "Well, I wouldn't want a Governor who wasn't getting laid, but..."

Wait, wait, wait. Excuse me?

First of all, what difference does it make if a Governor is getting ass or not? Does that have an bearing on his ability to be an effective politician? And second of all, since when do people use the term "get laid" on major network news? Now okay, maybe she made a mistake, we all say silly things sometimes...

...but no.

This chick continued on, saying "well of course he wanted to get laid" and "men always want to get laid" and (I kid you not) "I fully support him wanting to get laid!" Yeah. Yeah. I mean sure, if the dude wants to get a prostitute, by all means, go for it. But we shouldn't actively be hoping our Governors are getting laid, and we should not be repeatedly saying "get laid! get laid!" on network news. It was so awkward and tacky and low class. The poor anchor was obviously flustered. I mean seriously, who the hell was this chick? Can someone clarify this for me?

Anyway, in case you're stupid and haven't quite picked up on the issue yet, Governor Spitzer (the Democratic Governor from New York) treated us all to a good laugh when a wiretap revealed that he'd been spending shocking amounts of money on prostitutes in New York and DC. Oh, and if you didn't know, this guy used to hold this little position - not very important, though you may have heard of it - this itty thing called the New York State Attorney General. Yeah. Yeah. Man, I'm saying that a lot today.

So while the esteemed Mr. Spitzer has been fighting crime and working to better the streets of New York, he's been "getting laid" left and right by prostitutes. I wonder if he was hanging out around Logan Circle - after all, according to Criminal Minds, that area is the third largest prostitution ring in the city. And it's right down the street! I totally could've been witness to an illicit liaison. Rowr.

It's this big... that's why I needed to seek out judgment-free sex from anonymous women

Now, I'm iffy on the subject. Unlike ABC's resident nymphomaniac supporter, I don't really give a shit about politician's love lives. Sure, it's great if they're getting regular action from their spouses/significant others but really, have you seen most of our politicians? Gross. I don't want to even think about them engaging in sexual activities. I'd kind of like to keep my vision, thanks.

But sure, if they want to "get laid" then go wild. But seriously, if you're the former Attorney General and now-Governor, you don't pick up prostitutes. You just don't. If you really want to, then wait until you're out of office. It's just tacky, and really pathetically ironic. And we've had enough of that. What's so wrong with you that you can't just get some ass out of your wife, or at least just grab a copy of Penthouse and beat your own meat? It's not that difficult, I'm sure someone could explain to you the wonders of masturbation, if you so need it.

It just looks bad when you get caught picking up this:


(Who, by the way is an actual Jersey City prostitute. Stunning, no?)

So, Governor Spitzer, to help you during this trying time, I've come up with a list of activities that should keep you busy, so that you don't find yourself in an alley way with someone named Miss Cherry L'Amour anytime soon. Here goes:

- Gardening: Keeps your hands busy, yet you still get the satisfaction of sowing your seed.
- Aerobics: A good cardio workout gets the blood flowing and keeps you sated.
- Theater: YOU get paid to fake love and orgasms in a variety of settings
- Cooking: Where there's plenty of heat, plenty of spice, and a savory happy ending
- Bicycling: You get to ride it all over the city

So, Elliot, take these ideas to heart. It'll probably do wonders for your reputation and your marriage. If, you know, you can ever get them situated again. Outlook not so good, but still. At any rate, these fun activities will keep you and your wife from looking like this in full view of the entire country (and probably most of Canada):


Ouch.

This Just In: Ugly People Hate the Gays

Oh, Sally Kern. I know, it's so easy in today's modern times to focus your anger and aggression on one group of people. It's very therapeutic - I mean, just look at what Hitler did. That totally went over without a single hitch. It's good to focus your hatred on something other than yourself. Otherwise, well, then you'd have to tackle your own issues and figure out just what you're so angry and full of hate. And you know what they say - denial is the key to happiness. Or something, I don't know, I just made that up.

Anyway, for those of you "not in the know" Sally Kern is a State Representative from Oklahoma, who seems intent on making sure people keep enforcing typical Mid-Western stereotypes on the people of her fair state. She gave an interview the other day in which she spewed a constant stream of hate, stupidity, and shocking ignorance. Yay for people in positions of power! Here are some gems from the interview:

"Studies show, no society that has totally embraced homosexuality has lasted for more than, you know, a few decades"

Oh I see.

I honestly think it’s the biggest threat our nation has, even more so than terrorism or Islam...

Seriously! I mean, those gays are so violent and full of hate, you can never tell what they're going to do next. Whether they're asking for permission to marry and have spousal privileges like the rest of us, leading gay pride parades, trying to instill a feel of acceptance and tolerance, advocating for equal rights, or wearing leather chaps, they're clearly out to get us all. They're only purpose in life is to spread hate and death. Just like anyone who's ever even so much as studied Islam. It's all the work of the devil. Yay horrified generalizations!

They want to get them into the government schools so they can indoctrinate them

Good lord! What are government schools?

They are going after our young children, as young as two years of age, to try to teach them that the homosexual lifestyle is an acceptable lifestyle.

Save the children! Did you know that it's better for a single, alcoholic, poverty-stricken mother to raise a child than to late two educated, wealthy, loving and caring men raise a child? They'll just try to mutilate their bodies and brains. They'll be so busy molesting their children, forcing them into assless chaps and turning them into hairdressers and personal stylists that the children will never have a chance to grow and live. I mean, seriously, they'll have their heads stuffed so full of horrors like "accept everyone" and "love knows no color or gender" and "we will love you unconditionally no matter what" that they'll all be storming schools and shooting their teachers and fellow students. It's written in stone, I tell you.

You know, Gays are infiltrating city councils. . . Did you know that the city council of Eureka Springs is now controlled by gays?

Not Eureka Springs! Wait, what? Anyway, get those gays out of the city council! It'll only allow them to spread their seeds of homosexuality and evil...ness. Heaven forbid they have the city's best interest at hearts. They have anal sex. If they're dudes.

They are winning elections.

Blasphemy!

We have the gay-straight alliance coming into our schools.

No! God no! Not gay-straight alliances! Oh god! Our straight children could decide to be tolerant of others! They might help other students to be accepted by their peers! They could help homosexual students! They might grow up to be mature, accepting, and happy individuals!
The horror, the horror!

One of my colleagues said We don’t have a gay problem in our community… well you know what, that is so dumb. If you have cancer in your little toe, do you just say that I’m going to forget about it since the rest of you is fine? It spreads! This stuff is deadly and it is spreading. It will destroy our young people and it will destroy this nation.

Ahem, sista. This is so dumb, thank you for your grasp of the English language. If I have cancer in my little toe, I chop that bastard off and feed it to the dogs. Good riddance! Same thing with the gays. When they infiltrate my little toe, I... wait, how does this metaphor work again? Anyway. These gays, their homosexuality is spreading. I mean, just the other day I was hanging out with some gay men, and now I can't stop thinking about having sex with a man. Good lord! Such a horrifying disease. I mean, anyone who hangs out with gay people obviously catches The Gay. It's a proven fact, and you can't disprove Science, unless you believe the world was created in 7 days by god. Yeah. Anyway, this Gay is going to take over the world! Today, Queer Eye for the Straight Guy. Tomorrow... P-Town will be everywhere. You mark my words.

By the way, Sally Kern looks like this:



Easy to see why she may be so angry, no?

Now, I read PerezHilton.com for shits and giggles, and usually I fight back the urge to leave him nasty comments, but for once, I 100% completely agree with this post of his. Send this hateful bitch a message, telling her that gay hating is so passe. No one in a position of power like this (well, no one in general) should be spewing hate like this. It's hurtful, dangerous, and horrifically stupid. Get this bitch the fuck out of office:

Ms. Kern's contact information:

Capitol Address:
2300 N. Lincoln Blvd. Room 332
Oklahoma City, OK 73105
(405) 557-7348.

District Address:
2713 Sterling Ave.,
Oklahoma City, OK 73127.

Email: sallykern@okhouse.gov

or

srkern@cox.net

Hitting the Mid-Twenties Stride

Days till Surgery: 21
Days till Old Age: 29

Today is a very exciting day! I'd like to say: HAPPY 24th BIRTHDAY JEN! I love you more than life itself, and I'm so glad that you're proving to me that turning ancient doesn't mean you drop dead immediately. I can't wait to celebrate as soon as I get my ass back up to Boston!

Now, I have friends who run the age gambit; you name it, I'm friends with them, from teenagers (shut up) to people in their thirties. I enjoy having a wide array of friends, because it really offers a wide perspective on life (and it doesn't hurt that your older friends can tell you to stop being a fucking idiot when you're freaking out about things that seem important at the time.)

But now, with one of my best friends' in the world turning 24, and with my 23rd birthday less than a month away (a month from yesterday, to be exact) I'm finally realizing that the majority of my friends are finally getting into their mid-twenties - most of us are now between the ages of 22 and 25, and we're finally all getting out of school and figuring out just how we're going to pay off our debt when we majored in things like "English" and "History" and "Boozing."

Alcoholism 101 - fills up every semester

I remember very clearly being 14 years old and in the 8th grade, and worrying obsessively about high school. The school was so big, the kids were so old, we were going to be at the bottom of the pecking order after working out way up through 5 damn years of middle school (thank you, Hull Public Schools, and your constant rearranging of where our students were.) Freshman year of high school seemed like such a momentous time; I was an adult. I was that student in all the tv shows we loved to watch. I was just as mature as Buffy, for crying out loud. Just without the mini skirts and hooker boots - I saved that for the 10th grade.

There were so many age milestones that I salivated over - Sweet 16, the Big 1-8, turning 20 and finally ending my teenage years, and the amazing, alcohol-and-bar-legal 21. I waited with bated breath for each of those years, wanting desperately to be that old so I could finally partake in rituals like driving, voting, and drinking myself into a drunken stupor so that I could be carried out of a club, declaring to anyone who would listen that this time I was legal, damnit!

And then there was 22. I dreaded turning 22 - dreaded it. I had nightmares about it, I was in denial about it, I made everyone around me agree that April 9, 2007 was my 21st and a Year Birthday Celebration. Fuck 22. I actually turned 22 on an Amtrak train heading back up to Boston, and nearly killed the person beside me, just to work out some of my anger. Sorry, Japanese tourist, but you were right there.

But this year... well, I've bitched a lot about turning 23. A lot. But I'm almost okay with it. Sure, 22 seemed like the beginning of the end, but I'm kind of liking my early twenties, even if I am slowly but surely making my way to the murky, uncertain time of my mid-twenties. I feel... well, I feel older. More mature. (In a way, seeing as it's me and all.) People seem to take me a little more seriously, and I like that. And I do like responsibilities, to a degree. I like having my own place and paying rent; I like having a job, and getting my ass up and out of bed every morning; I like having money and being able to enjoy myself. And I like feeling like I'm out of the drama-filled world of college. As much fun as it was being in a sorority and dealing with crazy girls all the time, thank god it's over. Sure, some people never, ever outgrow it (and that terrifies me - seriously, people, get over it) but I did, and I feel... I don't know. Relieved. Happy. Serene.

This was so three months ago

Problem is, I do feel old. Like I'm on a one-way path, and I ain't gettin' any younger. Which... well, is true. I'm getting freaking old. But at least there's still my whole life ahead of me, and I finally feel like my head is (mostly) on straight. Many adventures are still to be had. And, after all, people are acting younger and younger every day. 40 is the new 20; 60 is the new 40. And since I plan on being cryogenically frozen, maybe - just maybe - 120 will be the new 20 for me.