Class was tough. I'm not going to lie. The Autistic teenager I care for, thinks my teacher's too tough. That's not really the case. I ADORE my teacher. But, class was really weird this evening. Maybe it's the half-way slump. I'm so pleased, because at this time during 201 I hadn't really clicked with my other classmates. None of us really hung out. It wasn't until after 201 was over, that friendships were forged. Whether they will continue forging along, is a different post altogether. But here, we all get along and genuinely like one another. I told them I really don't write about them, but I just can't help it.
I ADORE YOU GUYS!!!
I went to see Chicago today, just to see Phillip Casnoff. Damn you, Phillip Casnoff. Were you to busy giving Bebe Neuwirth a foot massage, to come out to see little old me? He was dead sexy today. Let's use this as a segway to hornyness.
I am. Often. Maybe I hide it well. Or not. I was never the one that got off on a famous actor, or hot sex scene. Or Dexter. No, I'm the one that gets her rocks off, watching certain members of the male species perform on Broadway. Watching some of them, my toes curl right in my shoes. I'm not saying I get bizarrely aroused by a promo shot from Chess in 1986, featuring Phillip Casnoff. But I'm not not saying that either. Maybe what I'm saying, is that I'd like to have sex. Now works for me.
Here's a brief list of fictional characters that I find attractive.
-Barney Rubble from The Flinstones
-Captain Caveman
-Peter Brady
-Jack Tripper
-Joey Gladstone
-The Riddler
-that kid from Even Stevens (he's legal, don't start)
-Harry Potter
-Caracatus Potts (Chitty Chitty Bang Bang)
-Cyclops
-Fred (Scooby Doo)
Showing posts with label Insanity. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Insanity. Show all posts
10.3.07
A piece of the puzzle.
My family is small. Really small. It's just myself, and my Mum & Dad. Both my parents are only children, and three of my four grandparents died before I was born. The only living grandparent - my mother's mother - lives a bitter existence in Florida.
Her name is Minerva, she's 86, and we haven't spoken in almost 2 years. I have 2nd or 3rd cousins, that went onto live prosperous, wealthy lives. Apparently, I have a handful of cousins that are doctors & lawyers (per norm), and one that supposedly models for Chanel. Minerva has/had 8 brothers and sisters, who pushed their children to succeed, be captains of industry, have stable families.
She used to tell my Mum, that we're a dysfunctional family because my parents had huge arguments that sometimes resulted in my mother getting a hotel room for the night, and they couldn't control me. She thought my illness could be turned off, if I tried hard enough. Truth is, she abhores anything related to mental illness, and she continues to deny she had any part in depression running in my family.
I've tried to figure out where her intollerance of mental illness stems from, and I think might have figured out a big piece of the puzzle. Their was once a psychiatric hospital in Northeast Philadelphia, called Byberry Hospital. It was for the mentally unstable, and it was exactly what one thinks of when they think "mental institution." Horrible conditions, mistreatment of patients, etc. It was shut down in 1990, and the remaining paitients were transferred to one of the State-run hosiptals. Later in life, I'd work with several of these tranplants, at a nursing home, and their stories were so farfetched, they had to be true. It's a huge, looming property with underground tunnels connecting buildings, that became a refuge for the homeless and the drug addicted. People had websites, offering secret tours - if you were caught, you'd be arrested for trespassing. Growing up, I was told Minvera had 7 brothers & sisters. A great aunt of mine informed me, they had an eigth sibling - a sister. I was told she was admitted to Byberry when she was eight, and lived there until her death at 15. My grandmother refused to speak of her, and I don't even know her name. This was news to even my mother.
Her first husband, Sam died of a heart attack when my mother was 18. Story goes, he doted on my mother, and my grandmother resented it. She was very neglectful of my mother. She remarried two more times - putting another husband in the ground, and another in the poor house. She has a boyfriend, going on 12 years now. He doens't like me either.
She was constantly on me about my weight, my grades, and my asparations. I egged her on, to the point of her needing to rely on Valium just to be in the same room with me. As I became older, and life finally started to come together, we started up a great, mature relationship.
Some of you know, my first time living in New York, wasn't on the Upper East Side. I tried out Tribeca from August to October of '05. Although I was interviewing 3 times a day, practically every day, I couldn't get a job that paid well enough for me to make rent. I called my Grandmother crying, asking for rent money ($1500). She refused to give it to me, because she wanted to teach me a lesson. Because of that "lesson", I had to move back into my parents 1 bedroom apartment, slept on the couch for 4 months, and communted to New York 3 days a week, interviewing. I haven't spoken to Minerva since then. I was her God damned Granddaughter - her only grandchild.
She would send me $50 on my birthday, and Hannukah. And she called me on Yom Kippur, because her endocrinologist said she should try and make peace with me. I hung up on her. Since then, the money has stopped, as have the calls. She asks about me, when she talks with my mother, but my mother is very vague on my life, just as I requested she be.
So, why bring all of this up? Well, it seems I'm traveling with a family to Boca Raton next month - and we'll be stayinh withing 5 miles of Minerva. I have absolutely no desire to reconcile or even acknowlege her. My Mum says she has Parkinson's, and my only periodic question pertaining to her is, "How advanced is it?"
Her name is Minerva, she's 86, and we haven't spoken in almost 2 years. I have 2nd or 3rd cousins, that went onto live prosperous, wealthy lives. Apparently, I have a handful of cousins that are doctors & lawyers (per norm), and one that supposedly models for Chanel. Minerva has/had 8 brothers and sisters, who pushed their children to succeed, be captains of industry, have stable families.
She used to tell my Mum, that we're a dysfunctional family because my parents had huge arguments that sometimes resulted in my mother getting a hotel room for the night, and they couldn't control me. She thought my illness could be turned off, if I tried hard enough. Truth is, she abhores anything related to mental illness, and she continues to deny she had any part in depression running in my family.
I've tried to figure out where her intollerance of mental illness stems from, and I think might have figured out a big piece of the puzzle. Their was once a psychiatric hospital in Northeast Philadelphia, called Byberry Hospital. It was for the mentally unstable, and it was exactly what one thinks of when they think "mental institution." Horrible conditions, mistreatment of patients, etc. It was shut down in 1990, and the remaining paitients were transferred to one of the State-run hosiptals. Later in life, I'd work with several of these tranplants, at a nursing home, and their stories were so farfetched, they had to be true. It's a huge, looming property with underground tunnels connecting buildings, that became a refuge for the homeless and the drug addicted. People had websites, offering secret tours - if you were caught, you'd be arrested for trespassing. Growing up, I was told Minvera had 7 brothers & sisters. A great aunt of mine informed me, they had an eigth sibling - a sister. I was told she was admitted to Byberry when she was eight, and lived there until her death at 15. My grandmother refused to speak of her, and I don't even know her name. This was news to even my mother.
Her first husband, Sam died of a heart attack when my mother was 18. Story goes, he doted on my mother, and my grandmother resented it. She was very neglectful of my mother. She remarried two more times - putting another husband in the ground, and another in the poor house. She has a boyfriend, going on 12 years now. He doens't like me either.
She was constantly on me about my weight, my grades, and my asparations. I egged her on, to the point of her needing to rely on Valium just to be in the same room with me. As I became older, and life finally started to come together, we started up a great, mature relationship.
Some of you know, my first time living in New York, wasn't on the Upper East Side. I tried out Tribeca from August to October of '05. Although I was interviewing 3 times a day, practically every day, I couldn't get a job that paid well enough for me to make rent. I called my Grandmother crying, asking for rent money ($1500). She refused to give it to me, because she wanted to teach me a lesson. Because of that "lesson", I had to move back into my parents 1 bedroom apartment, slept on the couch for 4 months, and communted to New York 3 days a week, interviewing. I haven't spoken to Minerva since then. I was her God damned Granddaughter - her only grandchild.
She would send me $50 on my birthday, and Hannukah. And she called me on Yom Kippur, because her endocrinologist said she should try and make peace with me. I hung up on her. Since then, the money has stopped, as have the calls. She asks about me, when she talks with my mother, but my mother is very vague on my life, just as I requested she be.
So, why bring all of this up? Well, it seems I'm traveling with a family to Boca Raton next month - and we'll be stayinh withing 5 miles of Minerva. I have absolutely no desire to reconcile or even acknowlege her. My Mum says she has Parkinson's, and my only periodic question pertaining to her is, "How advanced is it?"
27.2.07
Customer Support, my ass!
Back to the real world. Well, as "real" as one can expect with my life. Yesterday and today, have proved to be extremely trying days. My boss purchased a Palm Treo 750, the newsest model. It's only compatible with a PC, which she doesn't have. Yet, she's convinced she can sync up her old Palm to my PC, and magically the info will transfer to her new Treo. I was on the phone with Tech Support until 10pm last night, and for 6 hours today. Bottom line, it can't be done. She kept yelling at me to "be more forceful" "demand to speak to a manager." Bite me. Really.
The 7yr old made me a present over the weekend; a replica of my apartment made of Legos, complete with a roommate in the living room. I'm glad someone appreciates me around here.
Just a reminder, Johnny's band Old Springs Pike is performing next week at the Knitting Factory! Get your tickets, while you can.
Oh yeah, I begin level 3 tomorrow at UCB. Nervous? Um, hell's bells yes!
The 7yr old made me a present over the weekend; a replica of my apartment made of Legos, complete with a roommate in the living room. I'm glad someone appreciates me around here.
Just a reminder, Johnny's band Old Springs Pike is performing next week at the Knitting Factory! Get your tickets, while you can.
Oh yeah, I begin level 3 tomorrow at UCB. Nervous? Um, hell's bells yes!
23.2.07
A Cease-Pool of Evil.
My roommate still hasn't moved out yet. As we know, I abhore her, and everything about her. I went to bed quite late last evening, around 5, and awoke fairly late today, around 2pm. I go into the bathroom, and the window's wide open, my big yellow towel hanging from the sill blowing in the frigid breeze. Perhaps it's my zany living room dwelling roommate, up to her old tricks. But, I enter the living room, she's sound asleep. The TV is blaring One Life to Live, and the coffee table is littered with mirrors and straws. I've accepted my roommate's habits, but I don't neccessaraly like them.
Her silver-plated shot glasses were corraded with her Cover Girl Lipslicks, and the drain was clogged with her pubes. Not attractive.
Her silver-plated shot glasses were corraded with her Cover Girl Lipslicks, and the drain was clogged with her pubes. Not attractive.
22.2.07
What I was supposed to do, as opposed to what I did do.
It was a busy off day, today. I woke at noon - which is a rarity for me - and went to Target with my roommate. Target is a magical place where time stands still. You go in at 2pm, find cute clothes and and Super Glue, and walk out 7 hours later. I've never been to the Brooklyn Target, and I was very happy to have an expert with me.
I was supposed to go see Sho perform at UCB tonight, but Brooklyn had other plans for me. So, to the two standby-ers, who got in because I never showed up - your quite welcome. I was home in tim to watch Lost, and drink some wine. Apparently, my roomate and I are drunk a little bit. I know this because she's wearing nothing but a coat , be-bopping around the living room, holding my Woody Allen DVD collection. Now, she's humping the TV. And I'm sort of sloshed, because I can't stop giggling. Now she's humping the green chair. She's just informed me it's dress-up time. She's a cheerleader. Now she's putting her underwear. Clean ones, I hope.
Update; she's just informed me, "It's time to get serious." Then she tried to smother me with a floor pillow. Now, she's a Pirate.
I was supposed to go see Sho perform at UCB tonight, but Brooklyn had other plans for me. So, to the two standby-ers, who got in because I never showed up - your quite welcome. I was home in tim to watch Lost, and drink some wine. Apparently, my roomate and I are drunk a little bit. I know this because she's wearing nothing but a coat , be-bopping around the living room, holding my Woody Allen DVD collection. Now, she's humping the TV. And I'm sort of sloshed, because I can't stop giggling. Now she's humping the green chair. She's just informed me it's dress-up time. She's a cheerleader. Now she's putting her underwear. Clean ones, I hope.
Update; she's just informed me, "It's time to get serious." Then she tried to smother me with a floor pillow. Now, she's a Pirate.
9.2.07
What you've missed...
Being busy isn't funny. Nothing amusing comes from working all the time. There's so much I've overlooked in the past few days...
-on Super Bowl Sunday, my roommates got skunk-drunk and were "grabassing". Hey, Joe Francis, forget Cancun. I've got your Girls Gone Wild right here.
-A delightful interchange between two HUGE black men on the subway, went from possible violence, to a Jamba Juice exchange. Warm fuzzies all around.
-a roommate is moving out. Stability will commence. Sort of.
-She's a bitch.
-I'm going to my depressing home town in two weeks (for the first time in 12 years), and I'm scared to death.
-I've been drinking more, so technically I can no longer state that "I don't drink."
-When you apologize to someone, you might get some ass. This is not normal, and one shouldn't make a habit out of it.
-Pay attention to things people say, particularly things related to the opposite sex.
-When a person farts, and says "Safety" she deserves a good smack. Especially because she's a bitch.
-When a bitch yells that you're "insane, need meds, and is fucked up" demand a reason as to why. Especially, when you have a Ven diagram supporting your reasons as to why she's a crack-head.
-Roommates talk to Rabbits, when you're not around.
-Blogging while in the company of my roommates continues to inspire me
And the chesnut of the night, straight from the brains on the house;
"language is the essence of human life."
-on Super Bowl Sunday, my roommates got skunk-drunk and were "grabassing". Hey, Joe Francis, forget Cancun. I've got your Girls Gone Wild right here.
-A delightful interchange between two HUGE black men on the subway, went from possible violence, to a Jamba Juice exchange. Warm fuzzies all around.
-a roommate is moving out. Stability will commence. Sort of.
-She's a bitch.
-I'm going to my depressing home town in two weeks (for the first time in 12 years), and I'm scared to death.
-I've been drinking more, so technically I can no longer state that "I don't drink."
-When you apologize to someone, you might get some ass. This is not normal, and one shouldn't make a habit out of it.
-Pay attention to things people say, particularly things related to the opposite sex.
-When a person farts, and says "Safety" she deserves a good smack. Especially because she's a bitch.
-When a bitch yells that you're "insane, need meds, and is fucked up" demand a reason as to why. Especially, when you have a Ven diagram supporting your reasons as to why she's a crack-head.
-Roommates talk to Rabbits, when you're not around.
-Blogging while in the company of my roommates continues to inspire me
And the chesnut of the night, straight from the brains on the house;
"language is the essence of human life."
29.1.07
It was much pleasanter at home, when one wasn't always growing larger and smaller, and being ordered about by mice and rabbits.
A sabactical of sorts, is about to commence. I've overworked, underwhelmed, and in desparate need of Target. I'm going home for a few days, just to...go home. Time to get out of this crazy crazy world in which I live, and go home to another craziness - my parents. Just long enough that I'll miss you, you'll miss me, and we all be the better for it when I return. Now, let's buck up! You will not continue reading this, if I continue to be mopulant. It's almost Tuesday - fun things happen on Tuesday! Take those meds, get a good night's sleep, and come see me in the a.m.
Here are some fun things that happened to me, today!
-I had a nice bowl of soup
-Pipa Ripa and hubby picked up their kids at school, and she was wearing jeans made for a 14yr old.
-I played the 7yr old's Nintendo DS for a good chunk of time, and beat the crap out of Mario.
-my boss is getting even more pleased with the work I'm doing for the show
Here are some fun things that happened to me, today!
-I had a nice bowl of soup
-Pipa Ripa and hubby picked up their kids at school, and she was wearing jeans made for a 14yr old.
-I played the 7yr old's Nintendo DS for a good chunk of time, and beat the crap out of Mario.
-my boss is getting even more pleased with the work I'm doing for the show
13.1.07
You want reality? I've got your reality right here.
My career hit an all time low today. Playing Checkers with the 7yr old (she beat me only once), the mother (nudist) comes over and sits down. She asks, "I hope you don't think I'm crossing a boundary, but would you mind giving me a massage?" This was in front of her child. See, I have a problem saying no, in basically everything I do. I'm so eager to please, and consequently I become a doormat of sorts. You're wondering if I gave in? Well, that's what Purell and electric shock therapy are for.
Now, I try not to be judgemental about people, but it's quite hard sometimes. And if I am judging, I keep in to myself, usually. But today, I couldn't hide it. The mother, who as a reminder weighs over 300lbs, asked me to get her some Ben & Jerry's from the market. She was very secretive about it, because she disn't want her children seeing her eat. I was to get 8 pints of ice cream, in an assortment of flavors. My immediate reply was, "Eight? Do you really want eight pints of ice cream?" She appeared shocked, as if it's perfectly normal to devour enough ice cream to feed the children's wing at Bellvue. Relizing my faux-pah, I apologized, "it's none of my business what you do with your ice cream." See how smooth.
I was told to call her, if certain flavors were unavailable. After three markets, I called her from the Gristedes at 84th & Columbus. She instructed me to read every Ben & Jerry's flavor they carried, all 23 of them. Once she was happy, I took the pints to the cashier. Do you have any idea how embarrassing it is, buying eight pints of ice cream all at once? Almost as embarrassing as admitting I gave the crazy lady a massage in front of her daughter. Oh yeah, she gave a few of those massage moans. Time to go set my hands on fire.
there's a crazy guy playing my clarinet, and I'm not pleased.
Now, I try not to be judgemental about people, but it's quite hard sometimes. And if I am judging, I keep in to myself, usually. But today, I couldn't hide it. The mother, who as a reminder weighs over 300lbs, asked me to get her some Ben & Jerry's from the market. She was very secretive about it, because she disn't want her children seeing her eat. I was to get 8 pints of ice cream, in an assortment of flavors. My immediate reply was, "Eight? Do you really want eight pints of ice cream?" She appeared shocked, as if it's perfectly normal to devour enough ice cream to feed the children's wing at Bellvue. Relizing my faux-pah, I apologized, "it's none of my business what you do with your ice cream." See how smooth.
I was told to call her, if certain flavors were unavailable. After three markets, I called her from the Gristedes at 84th & Columbus. She instructed me to read every Ben & Jerry's flavor they carried, all 23 of them. Once she was happy, I took the pints to the cashier. Do you have any idea how embarrassing it is, buying eight pints of ice cream all at once? Almost as embarrassing as admitting I gave the crazy lady a massage in front of her daughter. Oh yeah, she gave a few of those massage moans. Time to go set my hands on fire.
there's a crazy guy playing my clarinet, and I'm not pleased.
11.1.07
Where's the Mousey?
Dead. Wedged between the front door, and the frame. In the fetal position. Her name was Andromeda, and I'm sure she lived a good life, feeding off my roommates scraps. She's currently draped in Bounty, awaiting a peaceful swim towards Staten Island. It's quite amusing, because the mega-crazy roommate has barefooted quite close to the "body", completely unaware of a cold, dead creature imediatly to her right.
In startling similar news, my roommate loaned me a copy of the Bell Jar. Imagine zany me, reading a book such as that? Some were concerned it would deeply affect me, due to the familiar subject matter. Of course it did not. There were no revelations to be had, with the Bell Jar. If anything it really jogged my clouded memories about the past, which will be extremely useful come memoir time.
In startling similar news, my roommate loaned me a copy of the Bell Jar. Imagine zany me, reading a book such as that? Some were concerned it would deeply affect me, due to the familiar subject matter. Of course it did not. There were no revelations to be had, with the Bell Jar. If anything it really jogged my clouded memories about the past, which will be extremely useful come memoir time.
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