My New Career

I seriously must have "therapist" stamped on my forehead.

For some reason, J thinks its okay to pour his heart out to me about his relationship (or lack there of) with WG. Its been pretty constant for about 5 days now, and I don't think I can take much more. Fortunately, this is my last day of work until the New Year and I'm heading down to hide out at my parents house, so I may be able to avoid it.

Friday, I managed to avoid most of it by having dinner with C and then going to see the Holiday. J had called while I was in the movie. His response when I walked in the door was.

"Thanks for the call back!"

I stared at him for a moment, blinked a few times and went into the kitchen.

"Where were you?" He called after me.

"I was at a goddamn movie." The interrogation was getting to me. I had to work the next day, but I sat and tried to have a conversation with P, Legs and J. When the conversation turned into a J sob fest, I had to retired.

" I have to work tomorrow, I'm heading to bed."

J can't stand to be out shone. "Well try having to study all weekend for a test you have no idea about."

I sighed and threw him a disgusted look. "Yes J I realize that your life is SO hard and SO miserable. You win! Goodnight!"

Later P told me that Legs got a kick out of the way I dealt with J. Its the ONLY way to deal with him. If you give him an inch, he'll take a mile.

Saturday had me nodding constantly over dinner as he went on and on and on about this relationship. I told him my opinions about WG. I believe her to be self-centered, snobby, not very attractive, and mean, not to mention having a very high, unfounded opinion of herself. She hooked up with her ex boyfriend, which sent J into a tailspin of emotions, resulting in tears. There really isn't anything much more uncomfortable that a guy crying.

All I know is after seeing M cry, I was never fully attracted to him again.

Sunday he walked in all red faced. I asked him what was wrong and he dissolved into tears. I do the best I can, but I can't understand all this for a sub-par girl.

I asked him point-blank to tell me ten things that make this girl worthy of such a display of emotions. He didn't really know.

"She's just great."

"Why?"

"I don't know, she just is."

"You have no reasons? If you cannot write me ten reasons then you have no reason to be acting this way." I'm starting to get mean.

"Okay, fine." He picks up the pen and starts to write.

"Sex doesn't count." The writing abruptly stops and he drops the pen.

I don't know Kate."

He kept wanting hugs, and at one point I was trying to watch "Love Actually" to get in the Christmas mood, and he kept coming down from studying and talking AT me, and at one point he sat on the ottoman at the end of the couch I was sprawled on and hugged my feet.

I hate to be touched, I'm not a huggy, touchy feely person. Not to mention someone touching, actually hugging my feet. It was just awkward. I'm trying to be nice and there for him, but its exhausting, especially when the girl is NOT WORTH IT!

It was when he started going into his abandonment issues, and his issues with his mother and what a bad parent she was and all when I checked out. I can't handle all his issues that are stemming from an unhealthy relationship that I warned him about in the beginning.

There's something we must all remember. Excluding her OWN relationships, Kate is usually right!

Things I'm Thinking About Right Now

My Pants

They're driving me crazy, but I love them. I love the way they look, I love the color, but still they're driving me crazy. Its like they're made wrong. They're this grey/blue color, flared cords and i realized today that they are from Aberchrombie.

I haven't shopped in Aberchrombie in years. I don't really look good in barely there, pre-pubescent clothing. The clothes look cute in the pictures and in the window, but one Aberchrombie fitting room session is enough to send this chick into starvation mode. (Which lasts for about 2 hours, lets face it i love food!)

Because I know I haven't bought anything from them in ages I try to trace the history of my pants. All of a sudden it hits me! I was wearing these pants when I made out with QB! Have I mentioned that I have a ridiculous memory? I made out with QB in 2000 the night before Thanksgiving (again with the memory thing!) Fine! I'll admit it! QB was my first kiss. If you do the math, I was 20. THAT'S why I remember so well.

Anyway, so I at least have had these pants for 6 years. That's as far back as I can trace them. For a girl who fills about three garbage bags a season with old (sometimes new) clothes, to have pants for 6 years is an accompishment.

I love them though. I wish it were unconditional, but the damn waist of them is out of proportion to the rest of my pants. When I stand, they look great. When I sit, I feel like a Two Ton Tessie, which my gut splooging every where, and I don't have a gut. These pants make one for me. Its like they attached a size two waist to size six pants. Humph!

Or it could be the massive amounts of Chinese food I ate last night.

Coffee Mate

I love coffee mate. I'm obsessed with it. I haven't met a Coffee Mate flavor I haven't liked. The lack of Coffee Mate is bound to produce uncharacteristic hissy fits, which in turn has prompted most of my family to keep copious amounts of the liquid joy on hand at all times so as not to have a grumpy, caffeine deprived crazy banshee yelling at them for not having any.

This same reason has also made my parents stock ACTUAL REAL coffee in their house as well, since they drink decaf. (What's the point?) Also, my dad was losing money on all the trips to Dunkin Donuts I was sending him.

Today I had a hybrid of Gingerbreat, French Vanilla and Coconut Cream in my coffee. Not because that's how I like it, but because that was all I had left. Interesting enough, it didn't taste half bad.

My Boss calls it my girly coffee. So be it! Girly coffee is yummy!

My Conversation with G Yesterday

First of all, he calls me at 3:30 in the afternoon. Obviously I'm at work. I answer anyway, because I hate my job and secretly hope they will fire me for taking personal phone calls at work.

G: "Something wrong with your computer?"

Me: "Yah, How did you know?" (remember its possible that he's a secret spy, so I'm always suspicious of him and how he knows things.)

"Well I emailed you, and you haven't responded and I know you wouldn't be at lunch, so I looked on messenger and you weren't signed in, and you don't sign off of that until you leave, so I figured something must be wrong with your computer."

"You do realize if I had done the same thing, Email, twice, and then call you at work, you would call me crazy."

"Well this is about your Christmas presents."

"Oh in that case, continue." I had sent him my wish list a few nights ago. He insists that I make one even though I feel funny doing so. I can never think of anything on the spot. The list was random in itself, containing books, DVDs, a Padres baseball hat, and a Noise Machine from Brookstone. My heater is waking me up about 3-5 times a night, and of course when i wake up i have to use the bathroom. Its all just a pain in the ass, I just want to be able to not hear the CLANK, CLANK, CLANK of the stupid heater. Punching it and kicking it have yet to produce results. I told G in Lieu of the Noise Machine, he could come and take the termostat out of A's room and put it in mine, but he opted out of that.

"So this baseball hat," he continues. "Are you sure you want a small?"

"Yes, I want a small, I have a small head. Trust me I've tried on Boston ones. I even got one as a large, exchanged it for a medium, and that was too big, but I was too embarrassed to exchange it again, so I gave it to M." It took a little more description that is too tedious for words, but I think he finally got it. I mean I sent a PICTURE!

"Okay, so what sizes are you? Just in case?"

I rattle off my sizes.

"What about jackets, you know, just in case?" I can see there are going to be NO surprises this Christmas.

"I'm a woman's medium, men's small."

"You're really a medium?"

"Yes, I can wear small in shirts too, but usually I go for mediums."

"Well I'm just thinking because I'm a medium, but you have a um..." He searching how to put this delicately, "a larger chest."

"You do realize that men's sizes and woman's sizes are different?"

"But you're not that much shorter than me."

"I'm shaped completely different than you are! I mean most of my shirts are medium, if not medium than small. Do I look obscene in my shirts?"

"No! Not at all! In fact you could stand to look more obscene. I just can't judge sizes. I'm just saying I would think with your chest...I don't know."

I laugh, its funny how clueless he is. How could he think that a men's medium and a woman's medium are the same. How can he not see that we have completely different shapes? He just doesn't think, its almost endearing.

I'm still going to use this conversation as ammo for a long time to come.

On My Stellar Work Ethic

I have a meeting at 12:30 at our other campus. I'm not good at meetings. I have the attention span of a toddler. I space out, I lose my train of thought, and I'm horrible at getting my point across when I actually can think of something to say.

I work weird. I always have. Its all in my head. I don't write things down, I know our clients on sight and i almost have all the schedules committed to memory as well as room assignments. My former co-worker used to call me rain-man and periodically give me pop-quizzes.

Most of all the other campus is a 30 minute drive. While I like the idea of 30 minutes of no one being able to bother me, its the fact that the meeting falls right in the middle of my lunch hour. This means I don't GET my lunch hour. My one blissful hour of not being bother by annoying work problems and I get one whole hour to read. Yes, I read. A lot. Its my one hobby. Sad to say my lunch hour is the only thing that gets me through my day.

I know you're thinking. Why doesn't this whiny crack pot get a new job? Well she's working on it, its just that the holiday's have made this crack pot lazy and complacent, and the fact that the big boss has generously given everyone two weeks off, make it very hard to leave.

Come January, the job hunt begins.

I'm sure it will be hard to find a job where I am able to do NOTHING all day. Actually it may be a good thing NOT to find that again.

Now I have to go perfect my "interested face" for the meeting.

Its Called a Pub Crawl for a Reason

4:30 on a Saturday afternoon found me perched on a rickety bar stool, slurping a potent pink liquid through a two foot straw out of a large ceramic bowl.

Hong Kong was the first stop for me and my friends on the Pub Crawl that we attended this past weekend. For future notice, Hong Kong is not the place you want to start a pub crawl, unless you want a jump start on your hang over, which is precisely what we got.

Hong Kong is famous for its Scorpion Bowls. For 17.25, you can get a massive bowl filled with an unidentified alcoholic substance, that tastes like pineapple juice, and you can share it with as many people as you want. We had two in a 25 minute period. We had missed the first three bars, I think we were over-compensating. They're damn good though!

From there it was a blur: A beer at Clark's, a beer at Cheers, food and beers at Hennessey's, a break at The Bell and Hand. I did see someone get kicked out of The Bell and Hand fro knocking a hamburger bun of a waitress's tray. Sullivan's Tap was next. It was a very narrow, strange bar, where we had yet ANOTHER beer. I was feeling pretty good then, but was starting to
coming down by the time we were on to the final bar, the Harp.

I was pretty done by the time I got there. I was just sitting starting off into space, wondering what time would be the right time to leave with out a) being rude and b) seeming like a loser. I was just looking forward to my bed.

Finally we decided to head back to my apartment, having our fill of the pub crawl. The Harp was starting to get crowded with barely 21 year olds and this old fogey was ready to be done.

(I'm posting this for lack of anything else to post, but I'm definitely still struggling with my writing and inspiration.)