Tuesday, March 29, 2011

I obviously need to intern with Sheen to learn how to succeed. Also, OMG I used a lot of commas in this one.

I feel like I've been posting a lot about Facebook lately and even though I've only posted like twice about it, two can definitely be "a lot" if you're like me and you think things like, "When I say I want a lot of whiskey, I mean I want two bottles."  Two bottles is a lot of whiskey, you guys, unless you're an alcoholic and I'm not because I don't drink alone, except when I have good reasons, like not having an odd number of bottles in the house.  Symmetry is better for feng shui.  Probably.

Anyway, so my graduating class from high school has this Facebook group so that we can all keep in touch and have a splendid turnout for our 2013 reunion.  The problem is that much of what I remember about high school, I have tried to drink away in subsequent irresponsible college years and the following useless years of my twenties.  It's not that I hated high school or was bullied or picked on (that I can remember, anyway), but let's say for the sake of simplicity that I was a late blooming tomboy geek who hasn't really learned much since high school except that alcohol is delicious and having boobs is awesome.

So apparently, I'm supposed to show up to this shindig with a bunch of people who already knew me as a late blooming tomboy geek and stand there awkwardly when they ask me what it is that I do and I tell them that I'm a writer in my soul just because I don't think I'm really qualified to do anything other than that and then brace myself for the inevitable "Oh?  What have you written?  Have you published anything?" where I will stare at them blankly and drain my whiskey neat while they talk about their husbands/wives/careers/babies.  At this point, I'm already starting to envision an evening like in Zack and Miri Make A Porno and I'll probably end up hitting on one of the men I crushed on in high school and striking out again because he's secretly a gay porn star.  One can only hope.

I'd be much more apt to let all of this go and journey down that road of not giving a fuck what others may think of my "brand" of success if I wasn't already mid-crisis about everything right now.  We'll see where I end up in a year and a half, and if all else fails, I'll just show up topless and drunk because that is at least capitalizing on what I've learned in the years since high school, and life, my friends, is all about personal growth.

Monday, March 21, 2011

Whatever, idiot, this makes sense to me.

Fellow Nerd Friend:  Hey, TAB! Long time no see!  How're the fellas treating you?

Me:  Oh, just one fella these days, and pretty good.

FNF:  Wow, really?  So you have a new boyfriend?

Me:  No, I mean, not really.

FNF:  So just dating?

Me:  Well, sort of... I mean, we like each other and we hang out.  You know.

FNF:  I'm confused.  Let's say you have to quantify it in Facebook terms.  Are you guys an "it's complicated" thing?

Me:  Oh, goodness no!  It's not complicated!  That status is for scandalous college kids who don't want to admit that they're boning several people at once.  I mean, we both like each other, and his plans are kind of up in the air right now, and he knows I'm moving, so I think we're trying to keep it simple.  Not that we've talked about it, because it's like, still new and I don't think we *need* to talk about it yet.  I think we're both just trying to do this one day at a time and see how it goes.  We both agree that we don't want to over think it, though.

FNF:  So... are you guys dating other people?

Me:  Um, I don't think so.  I don't really know.

FNF:  Weren't you just telling me that you were ready for a long-term, serious commitment?

Me:  Right, yes.  Totally.

FNF:  ::eyebrows of skepticism::

Me:  Committing to non-commitment counts as something.

FNF:  So, it's complicated?!

Me:  I really hate both you and Facebook today.

Thursday, March 10, 2011

It's depressing when you realize your life is like a Dilbert comic.

Coworker:  Hey, TAB, I need you to do Task A for me and email Unrelated Person and let him know as soon as Task A is finished.

Me:  I already completed Task A.  I sent out an email confirmation on Monday.  I don't even know who Unrelated Person is.

Coworker:  Yeah, he's new.  Can you just do Task A again and tell Unrelated Person?  I just sent you an email about it.

Me:  Wouldn't it be easier to just send Unrelated Person my original email from Monday, stating that Task A was already taken care of?

Coworker:  No.

5 minutes passes.  An email appears in my inbox.  It is from Unrelated Person.  It says, "Coworker, I just found the email stating that Task A was finished this past Monday.  Thanks for following up."

Coworker:  TAB, did you do Task A and email Unrelated Person like I asked?

Me:  Oh, didn't you see Unrelated Person's last email?

Coworker:  Yes.

Me:  ...

Coworker:  Well?

Me:  (Sigh.)  Yes.

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

Things that PMS will give you:

1. The ability to eat half a box of Girl Scout cookies, cheesy pasta loaded with butter, cinnamon sugar oatmeal, biscotti with coffee and a handful of hard candies and still not feel full, when you normally survive on a handful of almonds and a piece of fruit in the AM hours.

2.  The understanding and rationalization that by drinking a 5.5 oz. V-8 with all of those foods, you're undoing all of the calories you just consumed, and are healthier for it.

3.  A surprisingly vitriolic intolerance to Miley Cyrus and Justin Bieber (when you were previously apathetic about the youngsters) because 10-year olds should not be making more money than you.

4.  Anxiety and paranoia that everyone is mad at you, because you are already convinced you're being a bitch based solely on the negative thoughts you have about everything around you, even though you've been alone in your office all day and haven't actually interacted with anyone.

5.  The inability to distinguish between good idea texts and bad idea texts.  Example:  Cute Boy:  "How are you today?"  Good idea:  "I'm not feeling well today and am a bit stressed out."  Bad idea:  "Trying to figure out what my coworker wants me to do makes me want to strap her down and take a rusty cheese grater to her face."  It's sort of like drunk texting, except you have no excuse for atrocious spelling and grammar errors.

6.  The unmistakable urge to cry at the Golden Girls theme song.  Thank you for being a friend...::sob::

7.  The idea that french fries are a good dinner.

8.  The belief that people want to hear you bitch about your PMS.

9.  The inability to deal with bad traffic long lines a freezing office cold air people anything.

10.  But also?  A legal defense in case you go batshit and take a rusty cheese grater to someone's face.  Not that I would consider doing that.

I really do like yoga, though.

I'm really sucking at blogging, you guys.  I was so jazzed for my blogiversary and have been wanting to post something entertaining, but the fact of the matter is that I've just been the opposite of entertaining.  Also, I've been slacking.  Which is not an excuse, just a statement of fact.  A statement of fact that I am *using* as an excuse.

Also, J.R. just moved across the country away from me for this amazing job opportunity, so I'm excited about her but also kind of cranky because I miss her because she helps make me feel normal when I say things like "the commitment center in my brain is broken," and she'll smile in a way that is not at all condescending, but more like, "dude, me too.  Wanna get sushi and drink?"  Because that's how we do it here in California.  Then we talk about yoga and granola and the best places to surf.  Gnarly, bro.

Kidding.  Don't worry, rest-of-the-country.  I'd punch myself in the face if that's how it really was.

Though I did have a discussion about yoga this morning.  Damn it.

Love yourself some Natalie Dee.

Tuesday, March 1, 2011

Anniversary! Wherein I celebrate immaturity with whiskey.

Well, well, well.  Thursday will be my 1 year blogiversary.  Honestly, I had no idea that I would keep up with this for more than a few months.  I went back and read some of my older entries, where I was just learning how to use this tool (ha ha, 'tool') and trying to figure out what I wanted out of it.  Maybe there's been some personal growth on my part.  (Probably not.)  I can only hope that since I've been committed to this blog for a year, perhaps it means I'm maturing past the anxiety I have every time I have to commit to something for longer than five minutes and bribing my short attention span with the promise of greater rewards.  (Like money, and cake!  And booze.)

Then again, maybe I've kept up with this because I needed a platform for whiny, self-indulgent and narcissistic bitching whilst going through the typical 1/3 life crisis that us MeGen kids are finding ourselves in the midst of these days. 

I have a sneaking suspicion that I haven't matured, and that my miserable, "failed writer" ego just needed to be stroked. (Ha ha... 'stroked'.)

Yeah, definitely haven't matured.