What a Difference a Year Makes...

JANUARY: I move into a quaint little apartment in the BoroPark/Kensington/Greenwood section of Brooklyn with my two girls. And by quaint I mean SMALL AS FUCK. But I love it nonetheless because it's mine and mine and mine. I visit LA for the first time and have a very memorable one night stand. So memorable in fact that when I revisit LA in April we hook up again. He was fab (hey boo- wassup?)

FEBRUARY: We lose one of our regulars at the basement hellhole I call a job and I start to realize what a bitch Karma really is...those of us left behind, however, form a tighter bond against The Man...

MARCH: Meet someone semi-decent from Yahoo Personals, but upon closer inspection find that he is WAY TOO SIMILAR to my ex-husband. I put the breaks on the romance and we remain platonic friends instead. Mostly because I lie and say I was celibate. What? Why are you laughing?

APRIL: Do my little LA repeat (just what I need) but am still in the basement and funky as hell about it. I meet someone else who's real nice (hi hon- feeling better?) and we embark on an ill-fated romance. You'll rememeber him as D, no. 11 on my list of beaus a while back.

MAY: Get trashed (and laid) on Cinco de Mayo...in fact that whole weekend is a blur of alcohol, pot and sex...good times, good times...Get re-acquainted with Lani (and I'm so glad 'cause I missed her so!!!). Plan and execute a FABULOUS 4-day adventure to Key West with Irene & Mari as we visit Celia for my birthday. We drink lots, go parasailing and kayaking, lay out on the beach and get VERY tan, smoke a little pot...okay, okay so I was the only one who smoked pot. Shut up!! D and I decide to not see other people. My baby sis graduates from Cornell- don't hate!

JUNE: My attitude towards The Man and my basement job worsens...I barely have the strength to not strangle everyone related to him, especially Little Bitch Boy. I take my first trip to Atlantic City, a birthday gift for Cathi (hi, sweetie!!) and have a blast (thanks to D who set it all up)! My firstborn graduates from 5th grade and the baby survives kindergarten.

JULY: I'm so fed up with the basement by now that I start a blog to air my grievences; so many people have come and gone in my short tenure there that it's unbelievable to me...I just HAVE to write about it! I get to cover the NY International Latino Film Festival again, and things with D start to get sour. We celebrate K's 11th birthday by the pond in Prospect Park.

AUGUST: D breaks it off with me and I am officially in a mood to end all moods: I stop eating, hanging out with friends and become obsessed with watching Love Jones and "Sex and the City" while eating cheerios. I go away to school and end up writing some really good, just-had-my-heart-ripped-out-and-handed-to-me stuff...graduation and my MFA are within my reach and I start OPERATION: FREAK THE HELL OUT. By the end of the month...I quit the basement. Rumor has it The Man is PISSED at my departure!! We celebrate N's 6th birthday, but I phone it in as I'm still reeling from my break up. I have a "light-bulb moment" buying a chicken gyro from Mohammed the Falafel Vendor...most of you read that post while I was still on MySpace...

SEPTEMBER: I start temping and working from home; I notice a huge difference in my appearance- I've lost 20lbs and don't even know it! The downsides? None of my clothes fit right and my face breaks out due to my new non-diet. I shut down my MySpace account and start blogging here for all of you. My LA hook up calls to say he's in Atlanta now, and whenever I want to visit...

OCTOBER: Temping ends and I'm left finding piece-work here and there. My thesis moves along at a snail's pace. D contacts me after a month of radio silence and is all of a sudden very chatty and very interested in what's new with me...I wonder why? Oh, yeah, that's right- he wants to sleep with me...I get to see FERNANDITO and friends live in concert and it so makes my year. I'm so happy that night...until I meet up with Hoover and he violates my neck! I get a new webcam and the IM's with Jack become VERY interesting...

NOVEMBER: I find a new job as a *gasp* writer in Gramercy Park, Jack comes to visit and I get re-acquainted with rum and vertigo. I get my first pedicure and survive it. I have the absolute-without-a-doubt WORST SEX of my life (thanks a lot, Hoover!) and visit my baby sis in DC for Thanksgiving (her apartment is DA BOMB!).

DECEMBER: My divorce becomes final, FINALLY and that gives my ex carte blanc to start acting like a grimy ass fool. I decide to quit dating altogether (it's just going nowhere!). My thesis takes a permanent vacation as a scorching case of fear of success disguised as writer's block sets in. As of press time I'm still waiting on a decision about my extension. I cancel all New Year's Eve plans to stay home and spend some time with me...and decide what "me" likes to do is write for you.

Happy New Year, everybody. Can't wait to see what 2007 has in store for me!

*smooches...'cause I never get tired of kissing you*

------------------------

Ain't no feeling like being free

When your mind's made up

And your hearts in the right place, yeah

Ain't no feeling like being free

When you've done all you could

But what's misunderstood

(It's all good, it's all good)

Ain't no feeling like being free

I'm like an eagle set free

And finally I'm looking out for me

Ain't no feeling like being free

Cause my mind's made up

And my heart is in the right place, yeah

Subscriber Spotlight: Just Jack 2006

Readers: I'd like you all to meet Jack.

I can't even remember when we became friends.

Jack didn't start at BTHS as a freshman, so he was a new fish in a sea of sophomores who had a year under our belts and thought we were the shit. What I remember is that he sang a lot, was kind of religious, and actually wore a dashiki to school one day. I still shake my head at the memory of that dashiki. You'd understand if you could see how WHITE he looked in it...

But he was very much Puerto Rican, and everything I'd ever been told about PR's growing up went straight out the window as soon as we meshed. He was not two-faced, conniving, and did not pull out a switchblade and threaten to cut me. Although I still suspect that he might put olives in his frijoles...

We bonded over our mutual excitement for the engineering classes we signed up for and our mutual disdain for our professors. Most days I felt like the devil on his shoulder, and other days he was the devil on mine. It brought a tear to my eye when, one clear day during our junior year, Jack- who prior to meeting me had taken his studies VERY seriously- got a 33 on a test. I think my score was like a 20. Out of a hundred. I was so proud to call him friend! Especially after Mr. P told him to stop hanging out with me lest his grades suffer even greater peril. In front of the whole class. And he stayed my friend anyway.

One of our proudest moments from those days? Directing traffic on one of the back staircases in between periods.

A not-so-proud-moment-but-fuck-it-who-cares-anymore? Being a bit unkind to a fellow classmate of the Jewish persuasion.

Memory that still brings tears to my eyes? Cafeteria, game of spades, a window opening and closing, a silly remark made by Jack that caused an outburst of laughter- and chocolate milk- from Irene onto my white shirt. It was priceless.

Today we've reconnected and bonded over our mutual hatred for his ex, Puta Face, and our mutual disdain for mine. Plus the fact that in our time apart (1994-2006) we've lived rather parallel lives. Except that Jack sees a doc- with a loose prescription pad- for his troubles, while I insist on letting the voices in my head duke it out like in the movie Identity (it'll be interesting to see which one wins out in the end...).

Our similarities include:

• Swooning over guys with strong arms


• Bringing two kids each into this world to add to the Army we're forming


• L-O-V-I-N-G the movie Chasing Amy


• Holding a place near and dear to our hearts for classic Salsa music


• Loathing people who make IM spelling errors...YOUR is not the same as YOU'RE, dammit!!!

Even though Jack has a penchant for the dramatics, there's no one else I can call at 2AM to cry over shit that's not even that serious. And when he's going off about Puta Face, in Spanish no less, it's like music to my ears. I'm all at attention like a good little audience. I'll even instigate shit to hear him go off.

He gets all my obscure jokes and is awesome at talking me off the ledge...unless I'm threatening to jump into a sea of naked men...then he's all like: "ESPERAME, CARAJO!" We would totally be a couple if he were about 5" taller...and heterosexual...for now we'll settle for being a couple of silly-ass mo-fos.

Jack inspires me to be sucia and to pound my alcohol (and my men *wink*) like a man. He's got a 144 IQ and takes a moment to remind me whenever he can. We share the same wicked, jaded sense of humor, like to make fun of Mexicans, keep each other's sexy secrets, and for all his wisdom and high IQ score, his video iPod is still smarter than him.

He considers me phenomenal. And I suspect that if I let him tell me so ever so often, one day he'll actually convince me that it's true, when actually- he's the fucking SHYT!

And I love him to death!

WERK!!!!

*smooches...only for Jack today!*

-------------------

it's a perfect day for getting old

forgetting all your worries

life

and everything that makes you cry

let's get happy!

it's a perfect day for dreams come true

for thinking big

and doing anything you want to do

let's get happy!

File Under: T...M...I

Another week has come and gone, and I for one am excited to be done with it. I'm suffering from a bit of sensory overload: too many things coming at me at once...the voices are partying like it's 1999...and as usual I can't focus. But that doesn't mean I can't stop in and let ya'll know what's going on. That would be selfish.

And I really don't have any more apologies left in me, so I felt it was just easier to post something tonight and get it over with.

Why Me?
A couple of weeks ago I read about some kid who got stabbed to death in broad daylight in Union Square while people where there in full swing doing some holiday shopping in the open market. Just this big-ass'd brawl of HS kids trying to kill each other. Sad but true. I've since found out that it might be gang related. One of the gangs involved? DDP, or as they are really called, but I'm embarrassed to admit, Dominicans Don't Play. I mean is that just the stupidest name on gods green earth that a gang could possibly have? This city if full of Decepticons, Bloods, Crypts, Latin Kings...and Dominicans who don't play...

And what, pray tell, do they not play? Jump rope? Backgammon? Red Light, Green Light? I mean, I'm not doubting that they are as ruthless and bad ass as any other knife/gun wielding gang in this city. But that name...it's really just poor marketing. They need a PR rep really bad! I'm just a tad embarrassed because, well, they're Dominican. And I for one do not see what's so bad about playing. I mean, do you feel me?

If It Wasn't for Step 3...
I've really been toying with the idea of sitting in on a couple of the Sexaholics Anonymous meetings to see if it's the missing "piece" in my quest for "peace" but dammit if they didn't throw that god clause in there. Can't I fix this without bringing anymore Judeo-Christian oppressiveness into my life? That's the main cause behind all this in the first place, all that repression I was taught in the church; the shame that it preaches and embeds in your mind- that shit really fucks with a kid's head...no pun intended. Can't I just go to a meeting and accept responsibility for my actions without putting it in some supposed celestial being's hands? That's such a passive way to go through life: it's in god's hands. No it's not- it's in my hands. I can do this; I have to do this; it's my responsibility to bring about change in my life.

Hmmm...maybe I don't need those meetings after all...

MEMO TO SELF: Rent The Brown Bunny RIGHT THIS MINUTE!!
So, um, Vincent Gallo, wannabe musician, D-list indie actor and all around weirdo, who amused me in Palookaville and wowed me in Buffalo '66 and In The House of the Spirits, is upset with PayPal.com because they refuse to do business with him anymore for his website, http://www.vincentgallo.com/. Vincent, sweetie, I'm mad at you for selling a night of sex with you as well as YOUR SPERM on your website. And I'm mad that VG can sell his body online no problem, but if I do it it's prostitution. Is it because he's a man or an actor? To me, soliciting is soliciting. Why isn't LAPD doing their job? Get this nutcase off the streets before he (re)produces again!

No, It's Not Okay to Talk About This with Me
It's bad enough that I've allowed myself to embark on this faux-friendship, in which I pretend that this torch I carry for you is just the latest fashion accessory, and you pretend that the reasons you gave for our demise weren't ambiguous at best, but do I really have to sit on the other end of the phone at two in the morning while you seek my advice on your girl troubles? I still haven't seen a doctor about this knife in my heart, so let's lay off the dating details until my wound heals, k? Say it with me, now: T...M...I...

Some Stereotypes are Just True
Did you know, that in the Christian Bible, the inhabitants of Sodom and Gomorrah were considered sinners by god because of their perverse sexual acts (fellatio, anal sex, man on man action), but in the Jewish accounts of this biblical event, Sodomites were guilty of economic crimes and monetary greediness. People, I cannot make this stuff up. Draw your own conclusions...

*smooches...with new-found respect for racist jokes*
---------------------
We fall down
But we get up...
For a saint is just
a sinner who fell down...
and got up

You Call That News?

I'm still not in the best of moods, so instead of the latest happenings in my sorry excuse for a life, here are some more news stories from this week that caught my eye.

I really hope there aren't any surveillance cameras in my office because they totally have me on tape rolling my eyes at the computer and laughing out loud at the ridiculousness that the NY papers deem "fit to print."

In Other News, Bush and Osama Say to the World: Smile! You're on Candid Camera!!
Why would anyone be so crazy as to believe that any real strife would befall Belgium? Besides of course their stash of waffles and chocolate falling low. Now there's your story!

But I hear he used his legs to shove Timmy down a well...
Hey, you, tall Doofus, come over hear and yank some plastic shit out of these here dolphins we're holding in some tanks against their will. And while you're at it reach up, grab the sun and tilt it about 2 degrees for me, will ya? I mean geez- it's bad enough he's a doofus, you gotta exploit him, too?

Oh my god...I'm go-go, too!
Dude, you shake your ass so other dudes can jack off to it. I hate to be the bearer of bad news...but that IS porno! Let's call a spade a spade, okay?

Has anybody questioned Elmer Fudd?
That damned rabbit must be putting up "duck Season" signs again...when will those two just call a truce?

Because worrying about his health would probably not be politically correct...
Another reason why I try to stay as uninvolved in politics as possible: I don't want any slime to get on on my leather jacket...

And this is why I got rid of my machete.
I mean really, if you're going to treat your kids like shit, don't make it easy for them to kill you. It's covered in chapter 2 in the new millenium parenting guide...didn't he get the 2006 edition?

He's probably at Osama's house.
Don't even waste my tax dollars looking for this fool. I don't want to hear another word about it.

Sometimes you just need to beat the hell out of a kid...
Oh. Did I just say that out loud? I certainly do not condone child abuse, nor do I promote threatening to put your 6-year-old in the oven and serving her for dinner with a spicy mango chutney...

That's all I got. If I read anymore news the weight of the world will crush my spine.

*smooches...with a side of spicy mango chutney*
----------------
Well, if you told me you were drowning
I would not lend a hand
I've seen your face before my friend
But I don't know if you know who I am
Well, I was there and I saw what you did
I saw it with my own two eyes
So you can wipe off the grin, I know where you've been
Its all been a pack of lies

Redemption Song

It was brought to the Jaded NYer’s attention that sometimes, she takes things too far. Sometimes what she thinks is funny is just downright mean. And sometimes words do hurt.

Now this is where I usually insert something callous and witty like: “get over it” or “hmmm…where’s my violin?” and that will usually incite rumbling laughter from you, my loyal readers. But apparently that is just the type of “wit” that has brought me to this post.

Yes, I, Raquel, she of the scathing tongue, want to apologize to all injured parties of previous posts that at the time seemed really funny but was actually really hurtful. And I’m not using my sarcastic voice either. I’m actually taking off my armor, putting down my shield and admitting that I use this mean-spirited humor in a desperate attempt to protect myself from myself, the typical bully mentality. It’s the one thing I remembered from Psych 101…you know, from the one day I actually attended class?

I want to reiterate to that injured party that what I wrote was just words on a screen. That despite what those words connotated and despite how they were interpreted, my feelings for this injured party remain as they always were. And if said party is not sure of those feelings because my armor and shield have gotten in the way, let me tell them here: there is not a day that goes by that I don’t miss you deeply and wholeheartedly. And not a moment passes without a memory of our time together popping in my head and making me smile. Please know this to be the truth.

And while I’m at it, let me address other wrongs. Might as well get it all out before I suit up again.

JS: I don’t know why I never called you back. We had an awesome time that night and I thought you were a cool person. Sometimes when the weekend approaches I contemplate calling you but figure you have already written me off as a flake and deleted my number from your phone. I’m really not this dismissive of people, really. I got caught up in my own stuff and I apologize. It’d be nice to hang out again if you still want to.

Jack: I’m really happy you’ve found something to be happy about. I really am. Please don’t think that my self-imposed seclusion has anything to do with you. It has everything to do with me. But you have an IQ of 144, right, so I suppose you already knew that.

C, Hoover and Toothless: If you ever come across this blog, I want to say that what I wrote I meant, but I didn’t have to put it out there for the whole world (actually only 17 people) to laugh at. I’m sorry.

L: If you ever come across this blog and come to find that there are things I kept from you, I’m sorry, too. Just know that were are really good friends, and if I didn’t divulge something it was only because I was ashamed to admit it to you, because I really admire you and your morals and your friendship, and I wanted to keep your image of me pristine.

And finally, in a last-ditch attempt to keep bad Karma from re-visiting me, I want to apologize to Mrs. McDonald and her baby. I knew it was wrong when I did it the first time. And I knew it was wrong the second time, too. I promise you- there won’t be a third.

*smooches…with so much love for you all that my cup runneth over…*
------------------------
Siempre me quedara
la voz suave del mar,
volver a respirar la lluvia que caera
sobre este cuerpo y mojara
la flor que crece en mi,
y volver a reir
y cada dia un instante volver a pensar en ti.

It's Still Not Easy, But I'll Get There, Kermit...

It's official- I'm in the funkiest of funks. I have just been elected the Mayor of Funktown. As my first order of business I am putting into effect 48hrs of radio silence, which, in Raquel-speak means don't call or write or IM or text me for two days. I need to create a void or vacuum and get centered. There's too much going on around me and it's making the voices in my head all excited to the point where they won't shut the fuck up and focus.

I have not been able to write in weeks. None of my stories for my thesis have an ending and it's just not coming to me. The 25-pg "craft" paper is holding steady at 12-pgs with not a single, new original thought popping into my head. That damn blinking cursor on my computer screen is mocking the hell out of me, and I swear, yesterday it said, "You're a fraud. You're not a writer. All of your stories are the same. All you've done is changed the protagonist's name."

Fucking, stupid, bitch-ass voices!

It's made me a bit self-destructive and careless and I really thought I'd left all that behavior behind, but no, it's been there the whole time just waiting to be reactivated. My insomnia is getting worse. I'm getting sloppy at work. I've gained five pounds. I'm so mentally exhausted that it's causing a disconnect inside of me. I just need to shut down and re-boot, so to speak.

So that's what I'm going to do.

This is driving me nuts because I've never really had writer's block before and I'm scared that I won't get my flow back. I feel like a singer who has lost her voice and I'm freaking out. Is there some sort of lemon tea thing I can take to revitalize me?

And I swear to god if someone says "therapist" or any variation thereof I will snap you in two! Literally. There will be two bloody pieces of you lying about. Don't test me.

Now some of you will think this is a cry for help, but the rest of ya'll know me better than that. I say what I mean, and I mean what I say. I'm not looking for sympathy or an outpouring of love. I really truely just need a couple of days to regroup and get back on track. I just didn't want anyone to think I was ignoring them.

But I'll give you this, a present, a relic from my childhood that sort of calms my soul. Hushes the voices, if you will. No matter how low or crappy. This is my self-esteem secret weapon. You should feel honored to know it:



*smooches...from me for me for once*
-----------------
I've took it farther on the outside
I've took it nearly to the brink
And if you've seen me on the outside
You would have barely seen me breathe

Hip Hop Hooray...Ho...Hey...Ho...

Guess what happened on Wednesday? Guess! You'll NEVER guess! Give up?

MY DIVORCE IS FINAL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I'm officially legally unbound to that man! It took exactly one year, one month and 28 days from the moment his sorry ass left my momma's house to this moment, and I have to say I'm a little overwhelmed.

First I'd like to thank L in Cali for all of her support, perspective, advice and comic relief throughout this whole ordeal, even though she doesn't read this blog (I'll be thanking her in person later on this month!).

I'd also like to thank my family who didn't choose sides or say, "I told you so," but instead were there as a constant source of support.

And to C's and my mutual friends (is that gramatically correct?) and fellow AU alumni who may have been a little thrown by the split- you guys are amazing and I ♥ U!

Finally, I'd like to thank the Academy...you like me, you really, really like me...no seriously, though I want to thank the Queens County court system, Michael Ciarlo and Kenny the Paralegal at Nadel & Associates who really helped me out a lot with all the gory details of this divorce. You guys ROCK!

Now that it's over, I suppose I can reflect on the 13 years he and I spent together- both the good and the bad and the ultra- mega- funky- awfulness that brought us here. I've made our time together seem like a ride through hell on an oil soaked rickshaw, but of course there are two sides to every story.

I'm sure he would say I was difficult, bratty, moody and unpredictable, and that I had this standard of perfection that no one on earth could possibly live up to...but you all knew that about me already. And I'm sure you're all tired of hearing me say how boring, financially irresponsible, and unhealthy he was, and how irritating he became in those last few months. There were other, more serious underlying problems, too, that I won't go into out of respect for his privacy (look at me, all grow'd up!), but if you ask me I'll tell you one on one.

There were many times I tried to leave, he tried to leave, I tried to kill him (lucky for him he had really good reflexes and caught my wrist in time or that knife would have seriously still be stuck in his throat!)...the usual ups and downs, but it was magnified by the 10th power in my mind and I've known for a while that it had to end.

So here's to love, marriage, babies and divorce- not necessarily in that order. And here's to my new life: May the road rise up to meet me...May the wind always be at my back...May the sun shine warm upon my face, and rains fall soft upon my fields...

*smooches...on my way to pawn my wedding ring*
----------------------------
i thought we'd be simple together
i thought we'd be happy together
thought we'd be limitless together
i thought we'd be precious together
but i was sadly mistaken

I'm Being Forced to Read the Paper

So working in PR means you have to know all the major headlines in all the major tri-state area newspapers everyday before 9AM.

Yeah, that's what I said, too.

There is so much information crammed into my poor, beer-soaked brain right now that I think it might implode. Some dude gets shot outside a strip joint by the cops; a boy gets jumped in Union Square; Lindsay Lohan sends some crazy email to her lawyer that is leaked to Page Six...I just can't keep up! The only way to get these stories out of my head is to do the same thing I do when a song just won't leave me alone: write it down.

Here's the recent news, according to me, the Jaded NYer...

1. 50 Bullets
I agree that was excessive, but here's my problem with this story: a) why were they taking the stripper home? b) why did Bell ram his car into the cops? c) why do cops carry around THAT MUCH ammo d) why do black people keep inviting Al Sharpton into their lives? I can't STAND him!

Listen, plain and simple, if dude hadn't been so preoccupied with getting some skanky stripper ass the night before his wedding to his baby momma, his ass would still be alive today.

2. Pelosi and Murtha
I don't usually follow politics, but a couple of weeks ago the NY Times had this cover story on Nancy Pelosi endorsing John P. Murtha as the next House majority leader, and how no one else backed it and they chose some other dude instead. With the article was this pic:

That's Murtha, in the back, to the right, with the STANKEST look on his face, while Pelosi and the REAL House majority leader ham it up for the press. That made me laugh so hard I almost peed my pants!

3. You Mean I Gotta Be Sober on My Commute?
Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha!!!
Commuters on the LIRR are complaining because the bar-car may be abolished. Listen you alcoholics, stop being whiny-assed babies and just have a beer at Charlie O's at Penn Station before you get on the train instead, okay? Geez- it's not the end of the freakin' world. Give your liver a BREAK!

4. News from the Dominican Republic:
A) No More Haitians?
Foreign Relations Minister Carlos Morales Troncoso, a former sugar cane industry executive, highlighted the fact that the trend is for increased investments in farming mechanization that will eliminate the need for Haitian labor in sugar cane fields. Dominicans reject the hard work of sugar cane cutting, which has led to thousands of Haitians being allowed to migrate to the country to take their place. These Haitians live in settlements called bateyes, many languishing today as the number of jobs declines because farms are being mechanized.

But, who will be our scapegoats if the Haitians stop crossing the border to do the work uppidy Dominicans don't want to do? Who?? WHO???

B) NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
In a press release, the Cerveceria Nacional Dominicana (that produces Presidente beer) says that beer drinkers will be most affected by the fiscal reform, estimating that they will pay more than 36% of RD$ 17.5 billion the government is trying to collect. Currently there is a tax on beer depending on the percentage of alcohol, but the fiscal reform looks to impose a selective tax on beer. Teodoro Hidalgo, Director of Corporate Affairs for Grupo Leon Jimenes, says that this tax increase means that beer in the DR will become one of the most expensive in the hemisphere.

First they take our Haitians, now they want to make it harder to buy beer...why even bother living?

5. Hey, This OrthoTriCyclen Tastes Like Hubba Bubba...
Are they kidding me with this one? Chewable Contraceptive? I can see it now: "Jenny can you please spit out your gum? You know it's not allowed in class" "But Mrs. Funkenmeyer, it's my birth control gum!" Now I guess you can be a whore and chew gum like one, too! Whatever happened to the Rhythm Method, huh? Actually, maybe you shouldn't take birth control advice from me...

Okay, that's enough with the news. My head hurts and I need a shower to take the stench of society off of me.

*smooches...with icky newspaper ink all over the place...*
--------------------------------
No creo en Venus ni Marte
No creo en Carlos Marx
No creo en Jean Paul Sartre
No creo en Brian Weiss
Solo creo en tu sonrisa azul
En tu mirada de cristal
En los besos que me das

Oh This Is Gonna Be Fun!!

Someone, who will remain nameless, sent me a song, "Lovin' You" by Javier, that I played on repeat, over and over, before I went to bed. And it moved my funky mood further along to the depths of funkdom. I got a little bummed because the dude in the song is serenading his one true love. We've been over this, I know, the myth of the "One True Love" but it's hard to shake when it's shoved down your throat on iTunes...on repeat...over and over and over.

This brought me to a place no promiscuous 31-year-old should EVER go: reminiscing about ALL of my ex-boyfriends, trying to determine if I had that great love already and let him go. I stupidly opened up that mental Rolodex and read every footnote of every tryst I tried to keep secret even from myself. And now thanks to the wonder that is cyberspace, you, too, can travel back in time with me, and visit (or re-visit for the lucky few who've known me a while) the myriad of, ehm, true-love candidates I've had the pleasure (misfortune?) of being involved with. Please note that I am not counting the fake childhood boyfriends that came around before the age of ten- everybody has those and they're just plain dumb; nor am I counting the tequila-induced mistakes that may or may not have occurred after my separation. Your honor, I plead the fifth...

So here goes. Get a cup of coffee, sit back, and enjoy the ride (no pun intended). This is gonna take a while:

[UPDATE: The names have been changed from actual names to initials to protect the innocent AND the guilty]

1. R- son of a bodega owner with whom my mom hung out. He had to be at least 16 if he was a day; I was twelve. I remember him looking like that rat guy from the Ninja Turtles- remember him? What was that rat's name? If anyone remembers, tell me. Anyway, he was my first date and first kiss. We broke up because I wanted his brother, J, instead.

True-Love-o-Meter: 0. I didn't even feel bad about ditching him for his brother. R was just a notch on my brand new dating belt.

2. J- R's brother. I thought he was the cat's pyjamas! I remember him with caramel skin and soft hair and dreamy bedroom eyes. We also made out a lot, but he was more daring (and older) than R; he would hold me "close" and let me know just how "happy" he was that we were making out. We broke up when my good friend AR came to school with a picture of her new dreamy boyfriend...one guess as to who he was...I hear they have three kids now...

True-Love-o-Meter: 2. We would have had pretty babies, but he was not a citizen and you know my foreign policy is not as lenient as that of the Texas/Mexico border. And besides I think he's in jail now...

3. JS- we were in the same grade but I was in the "smart" class and he was...a cute jock. He played basketball like nobody's business and has the most gorgeous light-brown eyes EVER! I was still twelve, but this time, so was he (see; I'm capable of learning!). I think it was 7th grade. We made out a WHOLE lot and it felt oh so cool to date a "bad boy" when I was considered to be such an angel! We broke up because he dumped me for a 14 year old girl with HUMUNGOID breasts. Jokes on him...if he'd just waited a couple more years...

True-Love-o-Meter: 5. I was pretty smitten with him; we were on and off for two years, and you know at that age EVERYTHING is true love. But he wasn't very smart; I would have tired of him.

4. K- I think he was the rebound guy from JS. I barely remember him, except that he wore glasses and I let him get to third base on the eighth grade trip to a dude ranch. We never really broke up, more like faded away and became friends instead, like a fuck buddy except we never had sex.

True-Love-o-Meter: 0. I was using him, plain and simple. Our relationship meant NADA to me.

5. M- he was a senior when I was a freshman in HS; I liked his new-bohemian style and chiseled jaw- very superman from the comics look...yum! Plus older men used to make me drool LOL. I ended things because he wanted to go further than I did (in HS I actually attended church and taught Sunday Catechism classes- don't laugh!).

True-Love-o-Meter: 0. He was a freshman fling; nothing more.

6. E- I'd known him since junior high, but never saw him as a love interest. I remember that he pursued me until I got tired of running and agreed to date him. He had a sexy, James Earl Jones meets Barry White voice that made me flutter and was an awesome kisser! He and I were on and off throughout the latter part of HS I think; after graduation, we took our relationship a little further without going all the way. Sort of like our former Prez and his intern, if you get my drift. But a part of me always saw him as just a really good friend. We broke up because I dumped him in a "Dear E" letter the fall after I went away to college.

True-Love-o-Meter: 7. E and I had a lot of potential to be one of those couples who get married after graduation. But he ruined it by a) not being taller than me and b) converting from Catholicism (again, I was still blindly faithful to the church). When he changed his name to and would preach to me about not eating pork and stuff, I knew it was over for good. They'd brain-washed him. We tried the friendship thing but ended up losing touch sometime after 9/11.

7. LD- he worked with me at McDonald's and was a TAAAALLLLL drink of dark dark water from Panama. That boy made me SWOON with his kisses. We broke up because, like 99% of the Latino men I knew, he had another chick on the side. I told him it's all or nothing with me, he hesitated, and I walked!

True-Love-o-Meter: 2. I would never have tolerated cheating so it was destined to end.

8. DR- he was a guy I used to make E jealous (this was during one of the many times we were "off") that kind of got under my skin. We never went as far as he would have liked, and till this day he says I "owe him one." We're still friends. We broke up because...I don't know why, but it might have had something to do with the fact that he told me: "Jewish guys use Catholic girls for practice."

True-Love-o-Meter: 0. We were of different faiths and socio-economic backgrounds. Our fling was fun-based at best and nothing more. He was an asshole back then but he's a sweetie now and I wouldn't change a thing about our friendship!

9. KV- I met him during orientation freshman year of college. By this time E had started in on me with the not eating pork schpiel and he didn't make time to come visit me in New Jersey at my grandmother's before I went away to school. So I was kind of over him at this point, and KV was a sexy track team member from Grenada with a VERY sexy accent and the smoothest, chocolaty skin EVER! I lost my virginity to him, but we broke up because he was trying to rule me and that is a no-no.

True-Love-o-Meter: 3. He was a cutie but that West Indian machismo shit gets tired REAL FAST!!

10. C- he was a Super Senior when I was a freshman and made the transition away from KV that much easier. He was also the reason I sent E the "Dear E" letter. He was also the one that knocked me up sophomore year and convinced me to marry him in 1999 and have another baby in 2000 (okay, the second baby was my idea...details, details...). I remember falling for his green eyes...I don't think I need to tell you how we broke up...

True-Love-o-Meter: 5. despite the fact that I spent 13 years with him, it was not true love. Between you and me? I was just about to break up with him when I found out I was pregnant all those years ago. I had my eye on a very handsome Kappa Psi brother...but the baby kind of put an end to all that.

11. D- he and I first spoke in January of this year but finally had a "first date" on Cinco de Mayo; he was a definite cutie, Guyanese and loads of fun...and well if we're being honest here, really, really good in bed (hey- you don't read this blog because I candy-coat things- okay?). We broke up in August because he felt that, "If we continue on this path, I feel that things will get really serious, and I'm not ready for all that." I was pretty bitter about that one (some of you remember it well...did I mention how I lost 20lbs?) but am better now. I realized that it was a bruised ego and the ghost of JS coming back to haunt me...plus I found a journal entry from two weeks before we broke up where I was contemplating ending things, too. I was just mad because he beat me to it. We still speak once in a blue moon...

...and if you want the 100% uncensored truth? We hooked up again after we broke up. I believe the term is "friends with benefits."

True-Love-o-Meter: 6. I dug him a lot, but he lost points for a) being younger than me, b) not being taller than me, c) being a chain smoker, d) his rampant drug-use (so what if I often joined him...sooooo besides the point) and d) not having a college degree. Seems kind of petty, but I can only speak truth, folks. Sue me! He got a high score for his AWESOME bed skills, though, his caring, selfless nature and his ability to make me laugh as if we'd known each other for years!

Now I know you are all wondering: what about John Cusack? Isn't he your great love? Why isn't John on the list?

Here's where I confess that, although I speak of him often as if we have a real relationship, I realize he is nothing more than my fantasy; he's probably gay or not into Latin chicks. He doesn't know I exist and I am quite content worshipping him from afar. There. I said it.

So wow, from this list it appears that E and I were the best match. But that damn religion thing...if he'd just let up on that...we coulda made it work...another reason to loathe organized religion: it cost me my one true love!

*smooches...with so many notches I had to buy a brand new belt!

--------------------

Got stains on my t-shirt

and I'm the biggest flirt

Right now I'm solo,

but that will be changing eventually, oh

Got bruises on my heart

and sometimes I get dark

If you want my auto,

want my autobiography

Baby, just ask me

French Fries: The New Heroin

Yesterday was not so good.

I had some really bad cramps. And I'm trying this new thing where I don't take anymore painkillers and just work through it. What the hell was I thinking? I barely made it through the day without cursing somebody out.

I had to go see some crappy performance at K's school. Not that she's crappy- of course not; my kid is fabulous. Her classmates, however...well let me not speak ill of them. Lets just say I left early.

I wanted to visit my grandfather in the hospital. He was supposed to have had surgery to remove his gall bladder earlier that morning and I wanted to make sure he was okay. I called his room and there was no answer. When I call my cousin she informs me that they had just taken him into the O/R. That hospital...jesus christ...but ya'll already know what I think of medical professionals so I won't go into it again.

Then I came home and am informed by my landlord that he's raising the rent 10% starting with January's rent. He's blaming increased taxes and utility bills (I get free heat and hot water). I suppose it has nothing to do with all the renovations they've done to their own apartment or the bun his wife has in the oven? But what can I do? I can't afford to move again. I'll just have to suck it up and find a way to pay it.

All this shit culminated in me making a b-line to McDonald's, a place I have not been to in like three or four months. I needed something greasy and fattening and bad for me, and I needed to eat it while watching My Bare Lady on iTunes: poisoning my brain AND my body.

And a funny thing happened as I finished the last slurp of my orange drink...I felt a little intoxicated, as if I'd just taken five hits off a six-foot bong and done three keg stands. My eyes could barely stay open. People, I was HIGH ON FRENCH FRIES!! Can you imagine? I guess it's what happens when your body is free of those fast food toxins and then ingests it as if for the first time. Same as when my kids eat anything sugary (because I don't allow high fructose corn syrup products in my house) and start acting like meth heads.

I passed out on my couch fully clothed and with all my make-up on as if I'd partied hard or something. And this morning I had such a french fry hangover...man, I'm never doing that again! The next time I have a bad day, I'm just going to find some random loser on craigslist's casual encounters personals, make him my sex slave, and then toss him out like yesterday's newspaper. No more McDonald's for me...

*smooches...*

-----------------------
These are the days that I've been missing

Give me the taste give me the joy of summer wine

These are the days that bring new meaning

I feel the stillness of the sun and I feel fine

Funny, I Don't LOOK Unhappy in this Picture...

My dear sweet Jack, who may just be a bigger pack rat than me, produced a letter that I had written him in 1993 via email, in which I proceded to tell him how truly unhappy I was with life in general and sent it over to me. Since I read it I have not been able to get in a really good mood. Mainly because most of what I wrote in that letter could have easily been written today.

And this is that part where you all begin to wonder if maybe I'm bi-polar...don't worry. I wonder that, too. But I'm not going to a shrink so don't even suggest it.

The letter reads, and I quote: "...I've come to the conclusion that I am not really happy, that I'm not really laughing when I laugh, but I always really cry when I cry..."

Then I go on to whine about my mortality: "...no matter how great something is supposed to feel, I know its going to end soon."

The clincher, of course, reads like the theme of my entire MFA creative thesis: "...Is happiness even a real concept to be acheived?"

Was I really this miserable in college? What the fuck was going on? And why am I still in the same funk?

All of a sudden I'm craving some pizza and wings from the Sub Shop and a whole case of Schlitz beer...

*smooches...behind a wall of tears...*

-------------------------

i am sitting, watching

out the window of the coffee shop

and i'm waiting, waiting

waiting for it to let up

i am rocking like a cradle

warming my hands with the cup in between

i am leaning over the table

holding my face over the steam

Humble Pie is for Suckers and Ugly People!

I am a beautiful person, inside and out, and sometimes I get so caught up in what other people are doing around me that I forget that I'm so special, so beyond great, so fabulously fucking fabulous!

Since June, I've lost 20lbs, on my own, without a trainer or a nutritionist- that's a whole dress size, that's half of my six-year-old, that's probably what my leg used to weigh- and that's a great accomplishment for me.

I earned a place in a graduate program for talented writers, all on my own, despite my dismal undergraduate transcripts, despite Mr. Peemoeller telling me I wasn't cut out for college because I was unfocused and hard to discipline (it's all part of my charm, Mr. P) and received a grant from this program for being the most promising student of my incoming class. Me! And my class included a published author!

After years and years of putting up with my faux marriage because I didn't think I could make it on my own and had nowhere to go, I found my courage and I left him, got my own place, and despite a few cash-flow problems am doing fine.

I am a loyal, caring friend, ride or die 100%. Someone crosses you, my friend, they cross me. You kill your lover in his sleep? "Officer, she was with me all night." You get thrown in jail? I'm the one sitting beside you saying, in between bouts of laughter, "damn that shit was FUN!"

I am wise; a unique marriage of street and book smarts that can only be appreciated by those who possess the same qualities...you know who you are my dears because we've been friends FOREVER!

I can switch hit between the arts and the sciences with a twitch of my nose (okay maybe not history, but I've seen a few historical movies...does North and South count? Patrick Swayze sure was dreamy in that uniform...) and grasp both concepts as if I'd studied them all my life. Probably because I've been in school since I was 5. But I digress...

I cook a mean chili and bake a mean carrot cake WITH homemade cream cheese frosting. I can knit you a kicking new scarf and teach myself any computer program under the sun...no manual needed.

I can appreciate Billie Holiday, James Taylor, Franki Ruiz, Metallica and 50 Cent, and what makes them so great when shuffled together on my iTunes- it's a mix you just can't beat.

I'm a good mom, raising two independent, self-sufficient, intelligent and beautiful girls who will one day rule this world...so be nice to the little one; she keeps a list...

And when some lucky guy finally convinces me that monogamy is in fact a natural thing and not invented by The Man to keep us down, barefoot and pregnant, he will be getting the best woman William and Mercedes could have ever conceived, and Miguel and Rafaela could have ever nurtured. He will thank his lucky stars every night!

I am an all-powerful, amazon warrior, not just some sniveling girl...

*smooches...sportin' a brand new deadly sin*

-----------------

...so no matter what i think i need

you know i can't possibly

have a need in this world

come and come for that sweet sweetness

i'll be your never ending vending machine

i could never need to be alone

never need to be my own

as much as you need your queen...

How Do You Say, "You Get What You Pay For" in Chinese?

I'm starting this post at almost 2AM on Sunday morning because I want to get it out before I forget what I wanted to say...

My mom, kids and I decided to spend Thanksgiving with my baby sis in her new apartment outside of D.C. Originally it was supposed to be the whole family but some couldn't make it, so what I originally thought would be a quiet car ride to our nation's capitol turned out to be a nightmare.

Instead, we took one of those super-cheap Chinese buses that leave from Chinatown and go to Philly and D.C. on the regular, and I suppose I was thinking it would be the same as the vans that take us up to Lawrence, MA. They were SOOOOO NOT!!!

First off, there's like 20 different companies leaving from the same East Broadway block, and aparently, not a one of them know what a "sign" is. Second, they over-sell every bus so it's a crapshoot as to whether or not you're getting on the bus when you think you are getting on the bus. Third, those bitches selling the tickets are rude as fuck. I'm not sure if it's a cultural thing or just a requirement from New Centry Travel's HR department. Actually it can't be a cultural thing because all the women at my local Chinese take-out places are super sweet. These women were just rude as fuck. Finally, and my personal favorite, they operate on BP time. Now I don't mind the usual delay of 10, 15 even 20 minutes; traffic can be a bitch sometimes. But the 6:00PM bus got there at 7:15...WTF?

Needless to say, even though it was only $35 RT to visit my sister via the Chinese bus, next time I'm shelling out the extra dough for Greyhound, Amtrak or even JetBlue!

*smooches...after 8 1/2 hours of traveling...*
------------------------
how can i go home
with nothing to say
i know you're going to look at me that way
and say what did you do out there
and what did you decide
you said you needed time
and you had time

That's A WHOLE Shirt!

Friday night. Just finished my first week at a cool new job with a cool new nanny taking care of my wee ones. It was my ex's turn with the kids for the weekend. You know what that means: PARTY!!!

It just so happens that my bestest guy friend in the WHOLE WORLD since high school, Jack (AKA Galaxia) was going to be in NYC, and I hadn't seen his cute face since he came to see me freshman year of college (and my roommate got busted for smoking pot LOL). I was so excited to see him, especially because I'm helping him with his own Break-up Heard Around the World, and nothing soothes the troubled soul than a night out with good friends. Plus it was his birthday earlier that week.

I let him choose the spot, and he suggested La Escuelita, this gay club in Midtown. It was perfect because remember, I've gone cold turkey after the Hoover Incident so I was definitely up for fun in a place where NO ONE would be hitting on me.

Random observations from the evening:

1. I had carefully chosen my outfit to accentuate the positive, eliminate the negative, latch on to the affirmative and not mess with Mr. In-Between. In layman's terms: I've gained 5lbs while I was unemployed so I wore black. So why did I see a female in there, with at least 30lbs on me and two inches shorter, showing her stuff for all the world to see? In RED no less! I turn to Jack and say:
"If she wore her half shirt, why couldn't I?"

Jack- god bless him- turns to me and says:
"That's a whole shirt!"

I all but pissed my pants!!!

Then of course a Two-Ton Dyke passed by us and he quickly adds, "That's two shirts!"

2. Some bouncers walk by us rolling these little round pedestals to the middle of the club, and you know what that means: G-STRING DIVAS!!!! I was so stoked to see this muscled, chisled, oh-so-yummy, I-don't-care-if-he's-gay dancer up there shakin' what his momma- and Bally's Total Fitness- gave him. Jack and I tipped him so much I think we paid his rent this month! There was a girl dancer, too, and I tipped her on a dare, but her moves were wack and that male dancer had already stolen this Hag's heart. Jack and I considered propositioning him; I'd take the front, he'd take the back...and I was just smitten enough to agree to it!

At the end of night (cause you know we shut that place down at like 4AM) Mr. Gorgeous Dancer Man hugged and kissed us both goodnight. I could've died happy right then and there.

3. The ladies room was so disgustingly gross that I thought I'd walked into the men's room by mistake. Although, it wouldn't have mattered if I had, I guess...

4. The drag show was hysterical, especially when the MC sang happy birthday to some gals: "Happy Birthday you nasty, pussy-eating les-bee-enz...Happy Birthday tooooo yoooooo" that was classic!

No Worries: I've Got Two Good Livers Waiting For Me Inside K. & N.

Seeing as Jack was nursing a broken heart, I knew that some heavy duty drinking would be going on that night. But as you recall, I'm out of practice and it takes very little to get me hammered these days. Jack forced four rum and cokes down my throat (and by forced I mean he paid for them and only a dummy turns down free booze!) and then made me get up and dance (and by made me I mean he said, "wanna dance?" and I said "sure!"), and for me drinking and dancing makes my vertigo act up. I was D-R-U-N-K!!!

The ride home to my place was...well I barely remember getting home, only that Jack peed on the wall by the Foodtown and that I passed out in all my clothes with my makeup still on. I did manage to fix up the couch for him, so I wasn't too far gone.

Next morning after Jack had already stumbled on to his mother's all the way in the Boogie-Down, my stomach reminded me that I was no longer an 18 year old co-ed. That bitch was pissed! And it went a little something like this:

The last time I partied like that was Montauk for my 23rd or 24th birthday; it was so worth it!!!

Jack, I hope I was able to get your mind off Cabroncito; thank you so much for the treat!!!

*smooches...with a crush on a gay dancer...*

------------------------

here comes little naked me

padding up to the bathroom door

to find little naked you

slumped on the bathroom floor

New Job, New Nanny, New Headaches!

First, I want to apologize to all my friends out there for not keeping in touch. I’ve been so busy with the new job and trying to get my apartment settled and all that fun stuff that it’s left me with little time to socialize.

Second, I just want to point out that I am DRASTICALLY behind on my thesis…my professor actually had to contact me to ask what’s up. I try and try to get into it but am just not motivated to work on it- I think I’m burnt out. I’ve been in school since I was 5 years old…I think maybe it’s time to take a break for a while…

Lastly, did ya’ll know Doogie Howser was gay??? OMG I was totally shocked (and no, that’s not my sarcastic voice. I was TOTALLY shocked). My gaydar must be broken! He had a blurb in People Magazine about how he’s a proud gay man living a very content life. Well you go, boy!

New Job

My first week went very well, considering that the night before my first day I had horrible nightmares about my ex-boss from The Basement trying to kill me. I actually woke up in a cold sweat! I was so nervous, anxious, and a whole slew of other –ous words on the whole commute over there. Am I wearing the right clothes? Will I do a good job? How’s my hair? I was a straight mess.

But I get there and they’re all super sweet and everything…and then pile a shit-load of work on my desk. I was like: “What? Oh, you want me to WORK at work? Why didn’t anybody tell me?” My boss took us all (yeah, all FOUR of us) to lunch and I sat there eating my portabella mushroom sandwich as they went on about stuff I know very little about. I get the feeling I’m going to have to actually read the paper and keep up with the news while working here…and oh, look; it actually says so in my employee handbook…

The work itself is not difficult and I actually enjoy it. For right now I’m editing articles for three different environmental newsletters, so I get to use some of my undergraduate knowledge…nice to know that $30G I borrowed to go to Alfred is finally paying off. BTW- New England is headed for a HUGE energy crisis come 2010. You heard it here first.

New Nanny

So that bitch ass trick Jamaican whore I had hired in September left me stranded the Monday before Election Day- can you believe her? And after I kept her on even though I was not working! This is what I get for giving her a second chance; she quit before claiming she needed to find a fulltime job because she wasn’t able to make rent with only part-time work, like it was my fault. She KNEW I only needed part-time help. And she set her own rate and I agreed to it. So because she’s an idiot who can’t handle her money I get stuck without a sitter. And if I hadn’t called her on Monday, I get the feeling she was not going to tell me until right before N. needed to be picked up from school.

I said to hell that shit and just went to an agency, and now employ a very nice, sweet and nurturing Trinidadian woman who actually plays with my kids while she’s caring for them. It costs a helluva lot more, but it’s worth it, if only for peace of mind.

But you should have seen some of the other candidates: one woman came in here like she was Queen B and so I had to give her the ole, don’t-call-us-we’ll-call-you; another woman was so meek I could already envision N. eating her alive, just for kicks; this one girl was like two hours late! Yeah, I think I made the right choice.

New Headaches!

I finally had to swallow my pride and grow some balls and call my credit cards. Confession time, folks: I’ve not made a CC payment since July of this year. Needless to say they were rather peeved with me and were blowing up my phone like 20 times a day EVERY-FUCKING-DAY!!! So I sat down and called them and made payment agreements with all of them. Can I just say- I owe a LOT of money! What the hell was I thinking???

The reality of how badly I just fucked up my credit, after I worked so hard to rebuild it since The College Years, really has me down. Initially I wanted to be in a position to buy a place in two years; I’ve already been in this apartment for a year so technically next year I was going to start looking for property to purchase. Now, with all these blemishes on my credit, I may have to wait a couple of extra years and that is so depressing! How can I be this old and STILL be renting? I’m absolutely pissed with myself over the whole thing!

But I have a good job and if I manage to not fuck it up it could lead to bigger and better things…like a pre-War on the Upper West Side…

*smooches...now with direct deposit!*
-------------------
i had to leave the house of privilege
spend christmas homeless and feeling bad
to learn that privilege is a headache
that you don't know that you don't have
and i had to leave the house of television
to start noticing the clouds
it's amazing the stuff you see
when you finally shed that shroud

Everything You Own in a Box to the Left...

Heartache is a mothafucka...

Remember when you first met them and everything was new and undiscovered and you'd stay on the phone for hours on end talking about everything and nothing at the same time? How the sound of their voice and just one look into their eyes make your knees all wobbly? Remember how you'd fantasize about your future together in the shower? The summer house in Montauk? The brownstone in Fort Greene? The Mediterranean cruise?

And your first fight? Remember how stupid it seemed after you made up? And how you joked about it, how you were being so irrational? Even if deep down you still thought you were in the right and let it go in the name of...dare you think it...love? Was it love? Was it?

Remember when you knew it wasn't the same? And how you felt it unravelling, slipping from your control and there was no way to stop it? Remember THE phone call? The one that put the nail in the coffin of what you were afraid of? The one where they say, "It's not working out" or you say, "I can't go on like this" even if it's something you never thought you'd hear or say?

And the moment you hung up...the HEARTACHE! How you clung to your pillow sobbing like you haven't sobbed in so long! How you curled up into a ball and felt so vulnerable and just wanted to be held by the very person that just made you curl into a ball. And the whole world just became you and them and the heartache.

You only ate out of habit, for nutrition, because nothing tasted like anything anymore. You got out of bed and went to work only because you had to. If you could have, you would have stayed in bed for days, staring out the window in between crying fits and obligatory trips to the bathroom to blow your nose.

It's like someone died and you remember the Kübler-Ross book you read that explained the stages of grief:

1. Denial and isolation - The "This can't be real" stage.: "This is not happening to me." "There must be a mistake"

2. Anger - The "Why me?" stage.: "How dare you do this to me?!"

3. Bargaining - The "If I do this, you’ll do that" stage.: "I'll change and be what they want...they'll want me back after I make this one change..."

4. Depression - The "Defeated" stage.: "I can't bear to face going through this."

5. Acceptance - The "This is going to happen" stage.: "I'm ready, I don't want to struggle anymore."

And, if you're Hispanic from NYC, you remember the 6th stage, the "Fuck that Motherfucker" stage, where you play Beyonce's "Irreplaceable" on repeat while singing along in the mirror, fixing your hair, on your way to finally celebrate that that motherfucker is slowly but surely out of your system.

Only as you head to the club, you see a couple that reminds you of the couple you were just in and it scares you back inside, and on the radio is another sad love song reminding you that you aren't loved by the one you want to love you. But the anger comes back- FUCK THAT MOTHERFUCKER- and when "If loving you is wrong, I don't wanna be right..." pumps through your speakers you jump out of bed and yell to the radio, "NO! If loving you is wrong then I'm just going to STOP!"

And just like that you just decide, you just know, that your life is worth so much more than some person who couldn't even see your worth. Your mental health is something to cherish. And listening to Lite FM is NOT HELPING! Right there you just decide to stop chasing a pipe dream.

And just like that.

You're better.

Remember that?

*smooches, Jack...those fools don't deserve our love...*

-------------------

so fuck you

and your untouchable face

and fuck you

for existing in the first place

who am i

that i should be vying for your touch

who am i

bet you can't even tell me that much

What's Wrong With This Picture?

Observations throughout my day...

1. Tailored suit...kick ass cufflinks...polished shoes...worn by some pimply faced, wannabe trader Guido on the 2 train from Wall St. to Midtown. Buddy, here's a tip: if you were really making any kind of bank, you'd go to a dermatologist and get that shyt fixed. Like yesterday, okay, so I don't have to throw up a little in my mouth when I sit across from you on the train??

2. Job interview today for a freelance gig for a new newspaper...when I mentioned that I was fluent in Spanish, dude asked me where my folks were from. When I said DR he says: "That's what's up!" Huh? Excuse me? That's what's up? Is it, really? Actually I thought proper grammer, syntax and composure during a job interview was what was up, but apparently I was mistaken. Remember Hooked On Phonics? Learn it. Live it. Love it!

3. Tower Records, 66th and Bway, Going Out of Business Sale...DVD rentals were priced to sell at 50% off the lowest ticket price. Exciting, right? I had 28 Days, Citizen Ruth and A Few Good Men in my shopping basket. Then I flipped to the back cover and guess what I saw? 28 Days was marked at $29.99. Have you seen this movie? It is not worth no $29.99!!! Are they kidding me? So I gotta pay $15 for a sub-par flick starring Sandra-freakin-Bullock that I can get from Columbia House for $9.98 because some hotshot at Tower Records can't keep track of his money? Funk dat! Get a Job!!

4. I'm in this battle for my destiny with Karma (that bitch!), right? So why did I witness some poor construction worker unknowingly drop both his gloves on the subway platform and proceeded to do NOTHING about it? Even though I was at that station for a good 10 minutes before my or his train came- plenty of time to pick up the gloves and hand them to him? I really am cold and uncaring...who knew? The trick ass bitch counselor was right!

*smooches...*

----------------

and i ain't in the best shape

that i've ever been in

but i know where i'm going

and it ain't where i've been

Validation, Validation, Va-Li-Da-Tion!!!

I know that I shouldn't seek it outside myself but lets face it- we feel better about ourselves when others acknowledge our worth. For me, today, it came three-fold.

First, my 18 day standoff with the labor force has come to an end. Yes, it's true. You are reading the blog of the newest staff writer/account executive of a boutique PR firm in Gramercy. One of their biggest clients? The Uniformed Firefighters Association of NYC...all those yummy firemen in and out of my office...don't you just love a job with benefits? Or wait- were those NOT the kind of benefits they were talking about? Damn!

Second, a Latino cutie was taken aback with my beauty at the Dominican restaurant I've recently fallen in love with on 4th Avenue in Bay Ridge (I'm not being conceited; I was just repeating what he said to me!). We spoke for a few minutes while I waited for my morir soñando and pasteles. He was sweet and good looking, but I'm fasting from men until New Years' since my horrific Hoover incident so I left it at goodnight and we went our separate ways.

And finally, I got a response from a random craigslist shopper for the kids clothes I'm giving away. She was very grateful and said she couldn't believe that someone was generous enough to just give away clothes like that and not ask for anything in return. "God bless you, " she said. Little did she know, I was getting something in return. Something I've really been missing these past 18 days, especially since Saturday's horrific Hoover incident:


Validation.

I suppose I won't have to move to Damascus after all...

*smooches...with benefits!*
--------------------
so i walk like i'm on a mission
cuz that's the way i groove
i got more and more to do
i got less and less to prove
it took me too long to realize
that i don't take good pictures
cuz i have the kind of beauty
that moves

Don't Forget to Vote!!

You know, for that guy who knocked on your door last week, or handed you a flyer as you went into the subway. Who promises to keep local taxes at bay and increase funding for schools and keep guns off the street. The one who, when eleceted, will be stuck in his office behind a pile of papers attached to his seat by rolls and rolls of red tape, only allowed out for photo ops with babies and the elderly.

The one who grew up listening to his father talk about JFK like he was god, and became convinced he could change the world. The one who, when he entered college- valedictorian of his senior class- had his schedule mapped out to the minute, and pledged the fraternity that would get him the farthest in life. The one who, as a junior, did lines of coke in the basement of his frat house and date-raped a freshman who, till this day, cannot enjoy the touch of a man. The one who has a PhD in some BS political field and interned for his local congressman, still believing he could make a difference; so desperately wanting to make a difference to atone for past sins.

Don't forget to vote for that guy, the one who has long since forgoten the reason he got into politics in the first place. Who only wants to have a job that will keep his mortgage paid, his wife happy and his mistress in check.

That guy, that's who you need to vote for. Today.

Don't forget!

*smooches...*

-----------------

yes, the lessons are all around us and a change is waiting there

so it's time to pick through the rubble, clean the streets

and clear the air

get our government to pull its big dick out of the sand

of someone else's desert

put it back in its pants

and quit the hypocritical chants of

freedom forever...

This Mistake Brought to You By the Makers of Patrón Tequila...

I am no closer to finding a job than I was last time I posted, but am oh-so-close to rock bottom. Not money-wise so please don't worry about me- I'll be fine.

Friday I was good- I ordered my enchiladas and stayed in, watched a movie, cleaned up a bit. Saturday I shut off my phone and worked all day on some freelance assignments, emptying out more boxes (only two to go!!!) and worked on some school stuff. When the sun set, I found myself with a pretty bad case of cabin fever. I decided to get out of my apartment. Mistake No. 1.

So remember that I said I wanted to just be friends with Hoover, since a romantic relationship was out of the question? Okay, keep that thought in mind as I continue this story.

Hoover and I talk occasionally. Just a simple, "Hey what's up, how have you been, how's work," etc. General BS that you say when what you really want to say can't be said. I mentioned that I was shutting off my phone and working all day Saturday. He mentioned he was working an event in Manhattan that night, and if I wanted to meet up for a drink later. I said maybe. Mistake No. 2.

As I got ready to escape my little cave to get some fresh air and catch a flick, I looked through my phone to see who I could convince to come out with me, but it was 9:30- anybody who's anybody on my contact list most likely already had plans or was in bed (alone or otherwise occupied). Choices were limited...I was desperate...I'd spoken to maybe one person all day...I was sick of my own company...I called Hoover. Mistake No. 3.

He couldn't make the movie, but said to call him when it let out and maybe he'd be done with work by then.

I went to see Babel. Alone. On "date night." It was all a single girl could do to not slit her wrist in a movie theater full of Noah's Ark rejects: "oh sweetie, what do want to do after the move?" "oh, baby, I love you so much" *kiss* *hug*

*BARF!!*

And then the movie- although very well-acted and written and directed- was so depressing and left me feeling so sad and helpless...I, all of a sudden, was not the tough-as-nails chick I usually am. And at that moment I just didn't want to be alone.

Hoover left a message on my phone. He was nearby at a Mexican place on University Pl. I met him for drinks and we talked about nothing in particular. When my vision became blurry we decided to leave. Somewhere along the way, he mentioned and I agreed that he should come over my place. Now I KNOW this is the Patrón talking because I don't allow ANY MEN in my home. AT ALL. It's just a policy I started after The Break-Up Heard Around the World. But goddamit if Patrón didn't take over my power of speech and say, "Sure, you can come and hang out. We'll watch a movie." Mistakes No. 4, 5 and 6.

More like MAKE a movie...Mistake No. 7, 8 and 9.

Do I have to say it? Don't make me- okay? I feel bad enough. I'm not the kind of person to feel shame for anything I do. I'm a big girl and I deal with my decisions and the subsequent consequences. But this...this was...I can't even believe that I'm writing about it I'm so ashamed of it...

Needless to mention his skills in the boudoir were JUST AS BAD as the infamous make-out session that left me bruised and bitter. And that's just what I deserve, too. A friend of mine likes to tell me: Those who don't hear, must feel. I didn't listen to the little voice telling me to just be friends. And now I have to wear the scarlett "L" (for LOSER!!) for all eternity. I let the idiot touchy-feely couple sitting next to me at the movies make me feel like less of a person because I was in there by myself. Which was so stupid because I go to the movies by myself ALL THE TIME!!! Why should this time be any different?

Why? Because the person I WANTED to speak to/see on Saturday didn't even bother to take or return my call. There. That's the plain truth of it. So now you know.

I just hope Hoover doesn't think I'm his girlfriend now. Shit! Now I have to move and change my phone number. GODDAMN YOU, PATRÓN, GODDAMN YOU!!!!!!!!!

*smooches...bruised, bitter and ashamed...*
--------------------
but i've had a lack of inhibition
i've had a loss of perspective
i've had a little bit to drink
and it's making me think
that i can jump ship and swim
that the ocean will hold me
that there's got to be more
than this boat i'm in

My English Eees Not So Good...

This is the phrase that, when spoken by a potential employer, should send me running from the office at top speed. It will forever and always send red-flagged shivers up and down my spine.

Am I only talented in the eyes of Middle Eastern immigrant magazine and newspaper publishers? Can Americans not appreciate my genius? Maybe I should just move to Damascus- I'd be a freakin millionaire journalist over there! And the men, of course, would love me out there for my dreamy bedroom eyes, my long sexy legs and my beautiful...US citizenship.

As I comb want ad after don't-want ad, I wonder if it wouldn't be easier to just marry someone who needs his papers, charge him fifty grand and call it a day? How hard can it be? It's like winning a lottery that pays in cash AND penis!

Oh! Don't look at me that way! Like you're so ABOVE entertaining the idea of marrying a foreigner for papers...

It's like this, people:

I don't have the time or patience to A) surf the net for any more jobs or B) surf the WORLD for any more eligible bachelors who will fulfill my every want and need and then leave me the fuck alone to party with my girlfriends. Marrying for papers might just solve all that. All I have left to decide is: Do I want to marry a crazy Muslim- who might be Al-Qaeda- who's going to try and run my life or do I want some crazy Dominican- who may very well be my cousin- who's going to try and run my life AND cheat on me? Decisions...decisions...

You know, Toothless and Hoover are starting to look real good about now, as is The Basement I just escaped from...

*smooches...without a dime or a dick*

---------------------
i will be picturesque

i will be nice

i won't do anything

you can't tell your wife

YouTube Randomness

Day 13 of unemployment...

I spend the bulk of my morning combing the want ads but then- it's off to see what hilarity YouTube has in store for me. Usually I only find some mildly amusing stuff and then I'll move on to more job hunting and some thesis writing (ok...so there's no thesis writing...I watch DVD's and eat cereal all day- what do you want from me? I'm UNEMPLOYED!!). However today I found some rare gems and just had to share it. I hope your sense of humore is just as twisted as mine:

1) Penis Piercing. That's right. LIVE! It was so train-wreck funny that I actually watched the WHOLE 9 MINUTES of it.



2) Paxilback. A parody that is so witty I just had to share it. And the video is almost as good as Justin's.



3) We Need to Fund More After School Programs. Or more videos like this will resurface.



Okay, so...it's 12:09...back to the hunt.

*smooches...without a job or a plan*
--------------------
how much do you want
how much are you willing to do
baby, this is no business
for a sweet little girl like you