What The Hell Are You Looking At, Check Out Girl?

I am miserable. I mean I am fuh huh huh huuuuuuucking miserable. I wake up every morning hoping for 3 things. 1. An inbox full of answered resumes and job offers. 2. The itching to stop. 3. The anger stage of grief to have finally arrived.

3 is odd as I have spent a lot of life coaching myself to not feel anger for fear I inherited the flaw of hanging on to it too long and letting it consume me. I watched my Mom carry that shit around like an ugly Louis Vuitton full of bricks for years. No thanks. I don't say things I don't mean. I don't say things I can never take back. I don't say things to purposely hurt someone. I think it's all very unhealthy and it never makes me feel good. In fact, it makes me feel like shit when I'm mean. And my rule of thumb in most situations is I'd rather eat shit than feel like it. Put a little lemon and honey on there and it's delicious.

But I find myself wishing it would come. I feel like anger would feel a lot better than whatever this feeling is. Like, I want to wake up and just lunge for a hammer and start plunging it into pictures and walls. When roomie gets up all "what the fuck!?" I can be like "I'm here! Anger stage of grief, dude!" and he'll brighten with "Awesome, let me go get the blow torch and some beers!". But nope. No. Uh uh. Nope. I'm not there. I'm still bouncing around in all mixture of all the others, slinking around my house with a cocktail and Bruno Mars blasting, looking at light patterns on the wall like a crazy person.

It would be so unbelievably rad to just start calling people up and telling them off, exposing their weaknesses, throwing them and everyone they know under every bus available in the area. Just a real mean spree. Like the movie Natural Born Killers, but I act alone and instead of all the death it's just saying rude shit and holding up mirrors of hypocrisy and truth to their faces. If it were in person, I'd steal whatever food or drink they had in their hand, take a bite or sip, and hand it back to them. Then wipe my mouth with the back of my forearm reeeeal slow. They'd just stand there, mouth open, a single tear running down their cheek, wondering what they ever knew about life before this moment.

And see? I can't even stay angry in a blog. I end up making jokes. So.... that stage isn't coming any time soon. Half of them won't ever arrive. I'll just stay miserably positive, steadfast, hopeful and maintain a bitchin amount of just the right buzz as I want to keep my level of alcoholism at "functioning". In fact, it's time to go buy a new 24 pack and 2 bottles of red. I've emptied this house. But I'm going to tan first because nobody likes a pale drunk.

Maybe I'll leave my sunglasses on and scowl at the check out girl. Just for shits and gigs.

Bena-Drill Me

I have hives. They're red, they're itchy, and there may not be enough Gold Bond powder to calm them. Thank Goodness my friend is basically a doctor. (Physicians Assistant, but who cares, she drives a brand new 4 door Jeep Wrangler)

I am sitting on my couch, taking a little time out of my day to try to determine their possible cause. Here's what I came up with.

1. Extreme stress.

2. Intense sadness.

3. Lack of Starbucks drive thrus in my area.

4. Writing cover letters.

5. The bitch I work with emailing me to ask if I could make her out a Fed Ex envelope.

6. Pretty much a diet of red wine, beer, popcorn and swiss cheese of some sort.

7. Anxiety about The League finally starting.

8. Excitement for Adam's sisters wedding.

9. Hopelessness over not being able to find cute boots for fall/winter except at J Crew.

10. Not being able to afford shoes from J Crew. Those prices are fucking ridiculous.

11. The realization that the woodchucks are going to ground soon for months.

12. Foot cramps.

13. Lack of babies.

14. I'm allergic to Winnie.

15. My flesh is eating itself to teach me yet another lesson in overcoming adversity?

Or AIDS.

I Hope He Loses His Fantasy Match Ups Today Even Though He's Currently Ahead By 30 pts.

Adam H. Newman knew I was bound to Ohio this weekend for a friend's birthday when I was originally planning to run away to Michigan like I have done so often lately. Then he texted me some cryptic, tricky shit on Saturday that lead me to check my facebook and see him tag himself at a bar 2 blocks away from me. Pretty much the best surprise ever. Until that tag came in the 2 friends I was with at the time kept saying "dooon't get excited, he may not be there, he may just be trying to make you smile". But he was there all right! He had been planning it since Thursday. And he brought me my bridesmaid dress from his mother's house.

Then we went to the birthday dinner, and when the service was TERRIBLE at the very expensive restaurant where we were dining, enough to heavily disappoint the birthday girl, he dumped what was left of his red wine all up and down the tablecloth while making a fart noise. Because nobody puts baby in a corner when she says her caesar salad tastes a little to anchovy-y. He also paid for my swordfish and let me punch him in the shoulder about 50 times during the night.

Then he decided to stay on Sunday night as well as my house, after a week of being full, is finally empty besides me. We had a good day of football, eating, shopping, more football, more eating, wine, ice cream and now LOTR Return of the King. He was being such a super Pal allllll weekend that I decided to look at a song he had suggested I check out. It's called Nicest Thing by Kate Nash.

THAT FUCKING ASSHOLE!!!

The Daddy Mack Will Make You....

There are many methods of calming that people use when they are hurt/angry/confused about a situation in their lives. I have dabbled in many of these myself. Drinking (awesome if it's only beer and wine and you're in bed by 11 on a school night), sports/working out (awesome, because you also sculpt your shit and/or get to hit people while working out the toxins of anger and stress), venting to friends (awesome/lame, because you exhaust yourself and others, but you might also get great advice). I have even come extremely close to throwing a newly purchased Big Mac out a car window as Adam H. Newman and I decided there may be nothing funnier than that happening. (I'm glad I didn't, that Big Mac was artfully crafted and delicious) But.... there is one thing you can do that never fails to solve some problems, even if temporarily.

Jump up and down on the bed.

Yes. It's childish. It's also humbling, exhausting, embarrassing, exhilarating, funny, ridiculous and slightly scary as I am just now, finally capable of hitting my head on the ceiling. But I guarantee, the least it will do is make you smile. Even if just at your own hopeless stupidity.

Next time you're at the end of your rope, hold on. But jump rope over your bed. Unless you break a weak ass ankle, you won't regret it.

Guess "The Rodman" Is Good For Something Other Than Torture

I'm sitting at some sort of counter/bar in a shopping center with a girl with black hair. Behind us, a clearly intoxicated, passed out guy is literally inside what I can only describe as a large toilet. Every once in a while, we'll turn around because he'll dry heave and we'll be disgusted.

After a bit, I hear water sloshing and the black haired girl say "shit, there he goes" as the guy folds himself down inside the water basin and thrashes until he's completely lodged, head about 4 inches under water. We both jump up, but he's completely jammed down in there. The girl just runs out of the room saying she's going to get help. As I reach into the basin to try to grab some part of him to pull him out, his eyes are open and I see him start to gulp and choke down water. His eyes close, I scream "fuck!" and brace myself against the side to try to jiggle him loose. Nothing. I decide I have to slide him out. I grab the only thing I can think of, his ears, and put my foot on his knee and slide. This works, but I know now how badly this guy is out because being lifted by your ears is one of the most painful things ever. ( I know this because my cousins used it as punishment when we were little and referred to is as "The Rodman". )

I quickly think it's best to lug this asshole out into the shopping center where there are more people so I can get some help. As I'm pulling him, I jam my knee into his back a few times hoping to cause him to cough up some of the water, but nothing. As I lie him down, I scream my roommates name as loud as I can (as he's apparently shopping there) and I can hear him running toward me. I figure if I can get compressions started, even though my Roomie's lungs are going to be full of smoke and whiskey, he's going to put twice as much air into this guy's lungs as I can with one breath. But... just as he runs up, I realize that nobody even cares that there is a soaking wet, clearly unconscious man lying on the ground, not even my Roommate. They are all looking down like "fuck that drunk asshole, he deserves to drown in a bowl of his own misery". I only give this a split second of thought because I take the other part of that second to decide on either long, deep compressions or short bursts. I decide quick ones, I start low, hoping to stimulate his lungs, but maybe push out some water as well. I start counting out loud, 1-2-3-4-5.. and up to 10. At about 6, I look up and tell Roomie to suck in the biggest breath he can, but he's just looking down frozen, so I start inhaling. I don't yell, I don't ask anyone else for help, I know I have to go full steam ahead because my Dad always said panic leads to hesitation and someone needs every second you've got.

When I tilt the guy's head back and breath as much as I can get down into him, it felt like when you would blow in your straw to make bubbles as a kid, but on a larger scale. I can actually hear it gurgling. That's how full of water the guy is. As soon as I go for a second round of compressions, I start slowly, deeply breathing in again. People are shopping around me, some stop to look, but keep moving, Roommate stands there motionless. I reach ten and suck in enough where I feel dizzy, open his mouth, squeeze his nose shut, and pray this bastard throws up in my mouth this time. I squeeze my eyes shut, breath out into him and as I'm getting the last bit out, I feel him jolt a little and my eyes shoot to his and I see him squeezing them shut. I come up for more air and breathe a little more down into him and I can feel him start to gag. Just as he starts to convulse a little, and I'm rolling him on his side, I'm watching for all the water to come splashing out, his eyes snap open, he draws in to expel..... and I wake up. I am wide awake. Eyes open. But I am not out of breath. I am perfectly still breathing deeply and evenly.

All I can think at that moment is.... "did I even check his pulse? Should I have been doing compressions on someone if they had a pulse? I can't remember. Does that work for his lungs too or just for a heartbeat? Should I have been using slower compressions? Did hitting his back fill his lungs more? Would he have breathed sooner if I hadn't done that? Shit, I need to take a class, I'm going to be the reason someone fucking dies if this really happens." My father was a fireman and CPR instructor for years and now, all I can think about, is how disappointed he would be if he knew I was lying awake at 3:54 am not knowing these things.

The next thing I think is "Damn.... I wonder if that guy has any brain damage. And what did he have to drink?"

It's Not Always Sunny In Perrysburg

I got delux chili cheddar fries from Del Taco last night.

I tried on cute heels and jeans all day.

I got fall scented Bath and Body Works candles on sale.

I got a pumpkin spiced frap.

I watched a hilarious episode of It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia.

I'm going to be covered in puppies in a little bit.

I can't wait to feel happy again instead of pretending to feel happy.

Teenage Wasteland?

Now you can smoke a GD joint on the CW? What the actual hell? First ABC Family makes it rad to chuck your V card and sleaze it up with murderers on Pretty Little Liars, and now teenage drinking and tightly rolled grass are good to go on Vampire Diaries. Is this the new teenage reality?

Jeez, all I got in high school was Cosby Show re-runs. A black male gynecologist married to a black female lawyer? Now THAT'S unrealistic.

Uber Encouraging

I put on a wife beater today for the first time in like, 2 years. So... there was about 3 whole minutes where I was distracted enough to not be bummed the fuck out.

I also found a coupon for fall scents from Bath & Body Works. So there was another 30 seconds.

MSD is apparently forcing me to eat lasagna and catch up on HBO shows tonight. So... sky's the limit!