It's 11:11, make a wish!

Well, the wedding is over, probably so is my job (only supposed to last for 3 months anyway) and so is my love life. I finally deleted the sorbet's number from my phone.


I was also considering something lastnight, and if anyone has an opinion I would love to hear it.
I was thinking about not having sex again until I'm in a committed relationship. I mean, sure, a girl has needs, but to be honest with the crazy hours I've been putting in, those needs sorta go on the back burner.

Plus, with stress, I've gained about 8 pounds....ok, yeah I have my period too, but that baklava hasn't helped.


I feel like I haven't written in so long because I have nothing to write about. I go to work, come home, go to sleep, rinse and repeat. My coworkers went to jersey today without telling me, (which just makes me want to hurt someone) and they have managed to make me feel totally useless.

In group lastnight, the other crazy girls told me something, "you can't help it. there are going to be jerks where ever you work. but you're starting out, this place isn't perminant. you'll leave them behind like a bad habit." I know, but ever since I was a little kid, I hated being left out of things. It's one of the reasons I developed a sense of humor. I mean, when you're funny, everyone wants you around. They include you, and then you can reach out and include the people who may be alone. So you can see why this jersey business was so hurtful. They tell you you're in a team, but then they exclude ONLY you? Bull.....screw this, I'm gonna go job hunting.

I also have quite the devious little plan. I mean, I don't want to say too much, and it's nothing illegal, but I kinda feel like, Yo, if you're gonna act like I'm not a member of your team, then fine, I won't be and I'll do my own thing.

Thoughts?

...and another thing!

Ok, this thought and my previous blog HAD to go on different pages!

I swear, some people f*ing push my buttons and I'm gonna lose it!

Context: On saturday, my mom and stepdad and I went out to celebrate father's day early (as I was going to Long Island Sunday to see my father). So we go to a chinese restaurant, and I start talking about some of the aspects of work that frustrate me. I mean, there aren't many, but what few there are make me want to scream.

No, they make me want to chop off one of my coworker's penises (peni?) walk through the door, flop it down on the table and go, "Yeah, here. Now I got one too. NOW will you listen to my ideas?!"

So, I'm moaning about this, and my stepdad goes, "Well, you really dont have a right to feel that way."

WHAT? Should you really be telling that to a girl who spent the last year a hop, skip, & a jump away from being TOTALLY nuts? I think I can damn well feel however I want about whatever I want...AND THE VOICES IN MY HEAD AGREE, DAMMIT!
So I look to my mom and say, "Are you gonna defend me, or what?!" To which she says, "NO, I think he's right!" "Yes," my stepdad agrees, "you're acting like a child."

Now, I was too surprised at the time to say anything, so let me say it now (as I will be saying it later to their faces):
*ahem*

SCREW YOU. I'VE SPENT 3 YEARS TAKING CARE OF HIS CANCER, NOW YOU GET IT AND I TAKE IT AMAZINGLY WELL, AND THIS IS WHAT I HEAR?! I've never done drugs, never gave you a reason to ground me...hell I never even had detention (seriously!) so yes, if I'm acting like a child over this, THEN YOU CAN SHUT UP AND PUT UP WITH ME. I'VE LISTEN TO THE TWO OF YOU BITCH, THEN I PUT TOGETHER A WEDDING FOR YOU WITHOUT SO MUCH AS A THANK YOU. I WENT CRAZY, FINISHED MY MASTER'S, GOT A JOB...I'M A FUCKIN MULTITASKER!

I felt betrayed, bewildered, but most of all, be-fucking pissed. Then, the next day, my mom sees I'm upset and says she wants to talk to me, and why wont I open up?

I am serious. The wrong people are being medicated in this country. If all the folks who pissed me off were doped up, I would be a much calmer woman.
ok.
i need baklava.
and a lay. uhhh, i mean, i need to lay down. right. yes. that too.

Lying lies

It occured to me lastnight as I was falling asleep, which is when MOST of my better ideas decide to hit, thus managing to put off the actual ACT of sleep for about an hour, that I am not good at lying to myself.

Some people are amazing at it. Hell, some people are gay, lie to themselves, get married, and live their whole lives miserable. Me? I would have taken one look at a chick, pictured bending her over a chair, and I'm pretty sure that would have cleared things right up. But I'm not that good at lying. My inner poker face sucks. When I first started seeing my current therapist (I sound like such a New Yorker) I told her that I really do want to be a writer. Now, I am sure many bloggers feel the same way. I mean, you write as a form of communication. You're also probably better than I am. But in my head, are story ideas, and when I don't write them down, well, you know how they say Athena lept fully grown from her father's skull? It feels like she's in my head, pushing to get out. It's weird, and probably only one of the reasons I'm on zoloft. Still, I've won some awards for my writing. Nothing Pushcart or anything... but enough to kinda make me wonder.

This actually comes from something. I mean, more than just my usual ramblings. More than just wondering about raisins in the sun. I got my review from work.


Yeah. Well, it seems that the head of my department LOVES that I think differently, but it also causes problems. Yes, I can see puzzles in a different way, but trying to communicate my ideas, or have someone communicate theirs to me just doesn't seem to work.

"You're very bright," he said, "but something is going to have to give here."

That's what you want to hear. So, does everyone get this? Do we all sit around concerned that we didn't follow our hearts?


Should I be following the write path?

No herps...but a bad case of whoop-ass

Well, ladies and gentlemen, are you ready? As it turns out, I am allergic to the sun. That's right! I am so much of a pasty white little Jew, that the sun, the very force of life and energy on our planet, causes me to break out in hives. Yes, where most people lay out in the sun and enjoy it, it seems the skin on my throat felt differently about the situation and felt the need to display it's side of the argument via bumps.

Yeah, that's sexy.

On another note, I had a fab little disagreement with a professor from my Master's program. Let's go to the tape, shall we?

Him: So how is that new job going?
Me: Quite well, thanks.
Him: Is this something you want to be doing with the rest of your career?
Me: Well, no, actually. I had hoped to get my Master's and then take what I learned to try and apply it to the Israeli workforce, and see if I couldn't tackle some of the problems my cousin tells me they're facing over there.
Him: Israel?
Me (my inner zionist perking up her shiny little head): Uhhh.... yes, is that bad?
Him: Well, I really don't see what you could do for them.
Me (at this point my inner zionist is showered and ready for a full day): THEM?
Him: Well, what do you really think you could do. I mean, they are a 3rd world country you know.
Me (at this point my inner zionist has tossed on some combat boots and cracking her little knuckles): Well, I'll tell you what. While I'm over there pioneering I/O Psychology, you can sit here at this school saying whatever you like. Hell, even if I fail, at least I'll have tried. At least I have allegience to something!
Him: Yes, well it should be to the U.S.
Me: Uh huh. That's super. I have an idea, why don't you look up Project Paperclip and get back to me on that one.
Him: What?
Me: I need a drink.

Well, I lie. I didn't actually say "I need a drink." I just thought it.

They don't seem to agree with me that we need an open bar at work.

What do you think?

The Salute to Israel day Parade

WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! I had the wonderfully brilliant idea that I should go to the Israel day parade to find a Scottish Jew. I mean, if they're gonna pop their heads up for anything, I like to think that it would be for that. So, I planned, I bought a delightfully provacative little shirt...and then I forgot all about it and went to see my cousin's daughter in her first dance receital.

OK OK! I KNOW I KNOW! I'm losing sight of my goals here. However, she IS 4, and she was a little ballerina, and holy crap how can you not find that the cutest thing in the world. She didn't have her dance untill after the intermission, so she sat on my lap in her little tutu for an hour, snuggling up. Then she went on stage and her brother, in an effort to show me how happy he was that I had joined them for that night's festivities, took his slobbery, gooey chocolate cookie, smacked it onto the side of my face, and pulled it down my neck. I had a combination of baby spit (he's 1 1/2 years) and chocolate on one whole side of me. People kept walking by, "Miss, excuse me, but did you know that you have chocolate on your head?" No, thanks, i was unawares. Gee, shirlock, do you think there could be a link between the fact that the boy in my arms is currently slobbering on a cookie, and the fact that I have cookie-face? No? Yeah, I thought not.

So my cousin's daughter get's on stage with her little class, and they stand there pretty much the whole time, which is of course the reason you PUT girls that age into ballet. You put them in so that when they have a receital, family from all over come and oooh, and awwwww at them as they stand there looking confused. Then you all eat icecream. Guess which part was HER favorite.

And they're both so cute. Excuse me while I gush, but I had to tickle her brother for a good 5 minutes until I could stop being utterly delighted by his little boy laugh. Plus, he snorts. SOOOOOOOOOO funny.

It kinda makes me want to spawn.

No, I tell a lie. What I really want, is a guy who is AMAZING in bed, makes me breakfast, calls when he says he will, and then doesn't play little mind games. I want a Jewish guy with kink, and I don't just mean, "Hey baby, you wanna be on top tonight?" Oh, COULD I?! And can I tie you down and do nasty little things to you until youre addicted to me. No. I guess what I want is a Businessman in the street, and a sex (kitten? puppy?) in the bedroom/kitchen/livingroom, etc.


...and of course, he should be scottish!

...and then, my head almost EXPLODED!

So, my supervisor today looks at me and says, "Hey Hannah, where are the metrics for the NY participants." My blood pressure rose so high I thought my head was gonna explode. Well, to be fair, I AM on my cycle, so I tend to get stressed right about now. But anyway, I'm FREAKING out, about to cry. Seriously, I almost NEVER cry, not even when I thought I might be pregnant. I LOST IT. I mean, I didnt go postal, but very nearly. Y'all woulda heard about a little Jew in NY who lost it in an office with no windows. They'd put me in an amusement park where people would pay $3 to come see me sit there and rip my hair out. (I think I'm worth $3, at least that much in pure neurotic fun.) WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

So anyway. I go to the tapes... THEY DIDNT DO THE TASKS! HA HA! YO MOTHA!
Sure, it sounds like nothing to you, but what it means is, IT'S NOT MY FAULT! IF YOU GUYS WANNA FIRE ME, YOU CANT DO IT OVER THIS!
Whatever. I need asperin. And a hug. And ovaltine and pb&j.


I think I'll start with lunch, and then maybe move on to a nap.

Crap

It's only 4:15, and the bumps have climbed to my chin. Crap! I just want to go home, snuggle in bed, and go to sleep.

It's totally the herps

So, I have NO idea where this thing came from. But about 3 days ago I found a little spot on my chest. I just thought it was a small zit or something, and went sunning with Kirsten, kinda hoping that would dry it out.
Uhhhhhhhhhh, negative.
I dont know what is making it worse, if anything, but yesterday morning it had move to my throat. Just to where it connects to your sternum. Now I'm thinkin, "Crap, didn't get enough sleep. Well, when I go to bed to tonight it'll be gone."

NOT SO.

This series of small bumps (that you really cant see, but I can feel and quite frankly it's creepin the crap outta me) is playing manifest destiny with my head. Today, it has moved to where my jaw meets my throat. I feel like, in 3 more days it's gonna be a scene out of Invasion of the Body Snatchers. I'm just going to be one giant bump.
I've done everything. I washed with Dial soap. I moisturized. I took a milk bath. I put cold water on it. I put hot water on it. I kept it far away from water, just to see if that REALLY confused it.

At one point I think I actually did the hokey pokey just to see if that was REALLY what it was all about. Results still pending.

It has been suggested that the bumps are due to the stress of finding out that my mom has to have radiation. (My step dad is going through it right now, and my mom has to do it this summer.) Or maybe work. Or maybe the fact that my period was so late this week, I considered picking out names. Or maybe it's the sorbet? Or something I'm eating? Something I SHOULD be eating (shut UP Kirsten).

I DON'T think it's the herps. After all, it's not like I've been rubbing my neck against the legs of random strangers on the train. Not since the restraining order, anyway. So what am I left with? A neck and chest all bumpy and gross, no lead on where it's coming from.

I'm my own fuckin X-Files case. Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

Two weeks, and counting down...

The wedding. THE wedding. My mom's second. I'm 0 for 2 here people. Not that I mind, she deserves all the happiness in the world.
Still, with a big family event like this, all the crazies come out of the woodwork. To be fair, when I call a person crazy, ME- who's on zoloft, who thinks there's a snowflake conspiracy, who had a dream about being chased through work by a spider with the face of an angry monkey- that's when you know it's bad.
The two GOOD crazies, the ones I REALLY love, may even stay with us, which would be lovely. My uncle Bobbie, my mother's older brother, who joined the army to go to medical school, then became an assasain, and then retired, only to offer to have my dad killed as a graduation present for me (yes I turned it down, though to be fair I did stop for a second) is staying here! He's soooooooooooooooo cute and cuddly. When you see him (ok, maybe not YOU) he looks like a little balding farmer (he wears overalls).
The other crazy would be his son. His son who used to be his daughter. Dave. I LOVE dave. He's funny, kind, caring, and what every woman wants: a guy who knows what it's like to be a chick. Literally. Plus, after the hormones, he turned from a skinny chick, into a chunky little farmer-version of his dad.
Those are the good crazies. You can tell because they wont start ranting in the middle of a conversation with you.


Then there's my cousin Janet. My cousin "I-SEE-DEAD-PEOPLE" Janet. Greeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaattttttttttttttttt. Funny how they can never get us winning lotto tickets. Cheap, dead bastards.

Two weeks is when all the strange questions start coming out, like: How do we keep Dave's younger sister from sleeping with a guest or five? If we sit Janet near one of her sisters that she doesnt like, is she going to say she's saving that seat, for casper?

I asked the sorbet to come with, but of course when faced with a situation that in some obscure way may POTENTIALLY implie some sort of quasi-relationship, he opted for the manly choice, and ran. He says he's busy. No, he says he MAY be busy. Too busy to call when I call HIM, but when he hears I had surgery he rushes over in the middle of the night just to hold me. Recently a friend of mine had an experience that inspired me. A guy whom she had wanted to date for a while had "hooked up" with her. Then, instead of the regular wham, bam, thank you ma'am, he takes her out for champagne brunch.
It would be a lie to say I wasn't a little jealous. Not that I begrudged her what she had, only that I wanted a similar experience as well. So, I guess maybe I should go without dessert for a while. Maybe I should expand my horizons. Read more. Watch "Metropolis."

...or I could continue my studies of the man in uniform. Yes, I think that's what I'll do. I'll party til I wake up in a mexican prison.

Will you come bail me out?!