Saturday, December 3, 2011


People need to control their fucking dogs. And if you can't control one, DON'T HAVE ONE. It's not fucking rocket science. Here's a good example of why your dog should be on a goddamn leash.

Chuck was attacked tonight by an absolutely vicious bull terrier who was for some reason off his fucking leash. We were coming around the corner of the building, and this thing came flying directly at Chuck, and he was not playing. He got his teeth into Chuck's ear and would not let go, and poor Chuck didn't even have time to defend himself, and then he couldn't fight back because of the arthritis in his back legs combined with panic and the pain, so he was laying there crying, but it was almost like he was screaming, and then of course I was crying and freaking the fuck out, screaming at these assholes to get their "FUCKING DOG OFF MY DOG, HE'S GOING TO RIP HIS FUCKING EAR OFF, YOU STUPID FUCKS!" (direct quote)

And by the way, just a quick aside here - these people are trash with a capital fucking T. The woman looks like a cracked out junkie - I'm guessing meth by the looks of her - and the guy looks like someone who'd marry his cousin.

This dog literally almost ripped Chuck's ear off, and 2 grown men (Josh and Trash Guy) couldn't pry its jaws apart to get it off of Chuck. When we finally did get the other dog off of him, Chuck just came over to me wagging and panting. He's so forgiving it's amazing. He's amazing. 

He looked ok when we were outside, but once we got into the light in the apartment and I was checking him over, we found a gaping, bleeding wound (which actually turned out to be 3 separate wounds) on the back of his ear. There was a piece of his skin hanging off. This dog nearly bit right through his fucking ear. Even as I type this I'm still very literally vibrating with anger.

This picture doesn't really show the true extent of the damage. When we moved his fur even further back we realized it was nearly bitten through.

First, we called the cops and filed a police report. Because fuck this shit, that dog is clearly dangerous and they cannot keep him under control. I'll be picking up the report in 5-7 business days (rolling my eyes right now). Animal Control will follow up with the dog's owners on Monday, but as long as the dog is licensed in this town and is up to date on all its shots, they won't do much of anything. So I will also be calling the company that owns my development to alert them to a dangerous dog that just moved in, letting them know it's a lawsuit waiting to happen. And we'll see if that yields any results. Then I heard the cops go over to the other peoples' apartment, and when the cop told the guy "you know she's probably looking at about a grand to fix her dog," do you know what Trash Guy said? He said "We could not have been nicer, and I said I was sorry!"  What the fuck? Does sorry fix my dog? Does sorry pay the vet bill? Does sorry not make me want to punch you in the face? The answer to all of those questions is no, so shove your sorry right up your ass.

So down to Garden State Emergency Vet in Tinton Falls we went, all of us still covered in dirt because this whole thing happened in an area that was mostly mud. Chuck's ear had to be shaved and he has something like 10 staples in it. The doctor didn't feel comfortable with (and I wouldn't have allowed them to anyway) putting him under general anesthetic to do full stitches, because he's 13 and honestly it's just not safe. So she did a lidocaine injection in his ear before she cut away the torn skin and did the staples, but he had to be awake for the whole thing. My poor baby. Such a trooper to go through all of this while he's also going through the other crap with his liver.

Man, he hates this damn cone. I have to go buy him one of the soft ones tomorrow.

Chuck is currently passed out from the painkiller they gave him, which is a good thing. This was way too much for him. And for me, for that matter. And for Josh, as it turns out, because as we speak he is in the emergency room because he got bit in 3 places trying to pry the dog's mouth off of Chuck's ear. He's also getting x-rays because he can't move the finger that got bit the hardest.

And here's Josh in the ER...

So here's the deal. I know damn well these people don't have money. They didn't even try to offer to pay for anything. So, since they already know we're serious about this (due to the whole cops visiting their apartment thing, and the fact that Josh screamed at them that they would be paying the bills for this whole thing), I will be leaving a copy of tonight's vet bill in their mailbox letting them know they have exactly 7 days to pay me, because in 7 days is Chuck's follow up appointment. And then they have 7 days from the follow up appointment to pay me back for that. If they pay for nothing, we go to small claims court. I'm not fucking around here. I had both my dog and my fiance in the hospital tonight because of these people. They need to learn a lesson, and if I have to be the one to teach it to them, so be it.

Rant over.

Friday, November 25, 2011

It reminds me that it's not so bad, It's not so bad.

In honor of Thanksgiving...the obligatory "things I'm thankful for" post.

So, here's what I'm thankful for, in no particular order. The things that make it "not so bad." And it's certainly not a complete list by any means. But I'm nearly in a food coma, so I'm lucky to be posting anything.
  • My often hilarious and always amazing family.
  • My equally hilarious and equally amazing friends.
  • Josh.
  • My awesome furry children, Chuck & Trixie.

  • Music. It makes life bearable.
  • Books. Actual, printed books. I just don't get the same feeling holding an e-reader.
  • Sleep. I wish I got more of it.
  • Cheap wine. Xanax. Marijuana. Judge if you like. I care not.
  • 5 days off from work. Fuck yeah.
  • That I was able to clean and save the leopard flats I thought were ruined. Yay!

  • The awesome food my mom made today, and the amazing pie my sister made. But holy shit I'm still full. I may not eat again until Saturday. Which reminds me that I am also thankful for Gas-X.
  • Cozy PJs.
  • My couch.
  • Clorox wipes. They're pretty much good for everything.
  • DVR.
  • Photographs. They are tangible memories.
  • Lazy Sunday mornings.
  • Anything that makes me laugh. If I didn't laugh I'd probably go quietly insane.
  • My punching bag. 
  • Earphones. I can block out anything when I'm commuting. That obnoxious screaming kid running up and down the aisle? No match for Social Distortion in my ears.
  • Silly internet games that keep my racing mind occupied.
  • Technology. I love that my mom texts now. 
  • Family Guy. 
  • The fact that I can end this post any time I like. And that time is now, because my brain is tired.

I love this song. Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

Sunday, November 13, 2011

Get out of my dreams...

Screw you anxiety. Stop following me into my damn dreams.

I had a job interview yesterday. It was actually a second interview; the first one was Monday. Yeah it's been a looong week. Anyway, the night before, I wasn't really nervous because I'm so used to interviewing by now I could do it with my eyes closed. Evidently my subconscious felt differently.

By the way, I just found this on Facebook and thought it to be eerily appropriate for this post:

So in my dream I'm on the train and I'm wearing jeans & a hoodie, which is what I had worn that day. All of a sudden I realize it's Friday and I have a job interview and I'm not dressed for it and what the FUCK am I going to do since I'm already on the train?? I remember trying to figure out if I could possibly get off at the next stop, go back to Matawan, drive home, change, start over and still make it in time. Funny, but not once did it occur to me that I was supposed to be at WORK, because the interview was to take place during my lunch.
I woke up freaking the hell out and already on the edge of an anxiety attack. By the time my fuzzy brain actually processed the fact that I was still in bed and the interview hadn't yet happened, my heart was beating a mile a minute. Got out of bed, got a cold drink and had a cigarette, and generally walked it off by wandering the apartment. Luckily I was eventually able to fall back into a (thankfully) uneventful sleep.

But dammit, it was irritating.

Go ahead and rock out to this song. You know you want to.
Billy Ocean - Get Out of My Dreams

Sunday, November 6, 2011

I don’t even know what I’m doing in an hour...

1. Have you ever licked the back of a CD to try to get it to work?
No...did people actually do this?
2. What’s the largest age difference between yourself and someone you’ve dated?
4 years. He was older and I was a little liar.
3. Ever been in a car wreck?
Several, thank you.
4. Were you popular in high school?
Nah. And I was ok with that.
5. Have you ever been on a blind date?
Once. Never again.

6. Are looks important?
To an extent, yes.
7. Do you have any friends that you’ve known for 10 years or more?
Yes I do.
8. By what age would you like to be married?
Well, since I'm getting married next year and I'm 36...I'm gonna say 36.
9. Does the number of people a person’s slept with affect your view of them?
Nope, you can be as slutty as you want. I don’t care.
10. Have you ever made a mistake?
No, never. I am perfect. Duh.
11. Are you a good tipper?
Yes. Even if I didn't want to be, I'd have to be. My sister was a waitress for years, and drilled it into my head.
12. What’s the most you have spent for a haircut?
13. Have you ever had a crush on a teacher?
Once I think. Maybe in middle school.
14. Have you ever peed in public?
Yes indeed. Not like in front of a bunch of people...but outside in public, yes.
15. What song do you want played at your funeral?
 Ave Maria. For whatever reason, this song has always affected me like no other piece of music.

16. Would you tell your parents if you were gay?
Of course. I'd tell everyone.
17. What would your last meal be before getting executed?
First off…what the hell did I do to deserve to be executed?
18. Beatles or Stones?
19. If you had to pick one person on earth to die, who would it be?
Oooooh I see, THIS is what I did get to executed.
20. Beer, wine or hard liquor?
Beer and rum.
21. Do you have any phobias?
Clowns are evil. This clown in particular. Thanks Poltergeist.

22. What are your plans for the future?
I don’t even know what I’m doing in an hour…

Wednesday, November 2, 2011

Breathe with me...

I have Generalized Anxiety Disorder. Which as far as I'm concerned is just a fancy way of saying that I worry excessively over everything. Don't get me wrong, it's not like I live in a constant state of anxiety (although sometimes it feels that way). But when something makes me "anxious," it fucks me up pretty good for a while. And that right there is (part of) why I NEED to get out of this fucking city and start having a better quality of life.

Below is a pic of my newest tattoo (keep in mind this pic was taken the day it was done, so it's still healing & shiny). There is always a reason behind every tattoo I get, and this one is no different.

(Tattoo by Rick Schreck @ House of 1000 Tattoos, Middlesex, NJ)

When I first told my artist what I wanted done, he was disappointed because he's used to me coming in and wanting big pieces. And there was of course some joking in the vein of "doesn't your subconscious kind of take care of that for you?" You would think so, wouldn't you? Unfortunately for me, it doesn't always. When I get stressed to the breaking point (which happens more often than you'd think), I find myself holding my breath and clenching my teeth, and I actually have to remind myself to BREATHE. So the logic is that seeing the word on my wrist every day will help me to remember to breathe, to slow down, to calm down.

I've had the tattoo for less than a month, so I'm still researching whether or not it works. However - and this is off the subject, but it's my blog so I don't care - the minute the needle touched my skin that day, I felt everything in my body relax, and all of the tension left my muscles in a big rush. I'm sure that sounds weird to anyone who doesn't have tattoos, and maybe to some who do.
But when I call it "tattoo therapy," I mean it.
I don't do the traditional therapy thing. I've tried, but I can't do it. I cannot sit there in a room where I'm not even allowed to have a cigarette and tell some stranger what I'm feeling and why. No thank you. I know it works for some people, and more power to you if it does. It's just not for me.

And then there's a whole other aspect of the anxiety thing...
An example: I have to drop my Chuckles off at the vet on Tuesday morning for an ultrasound (that's a whole other post - I can't get into it right now or I will cry). The very thought of leaving him there brings on an anxiety attack. That's when I feel that tightness in my chest, that tightness that feels like a bubble that's waiting to come up through my throat and out of my mouth in one long, endless scream. But I can't let it happen because I'm afraid that once I start screaming I won't be able to stop. Yes, I'm serious.
To that end, I use the following breathing exercise when I feel it beginning:

Breathe in deeply through your nose for a count of 4 (Mississippi, of course).
Hold for a count of 4.
Breathe out through your mouth for a count of 4.

It doesn't always work, especially not if I wait too long after I feel the attack coming on. But when I do it right at the beginning of an attack, I always feel a sense of wonder that it actually worked and I'm breathing normally again.

Do I want to constantly be riddled with anxiety? No, of course not. It sucks. It flat out sucks. So I have to try to find ways to control it. I'm all about better living through chemistry, so I make sure I stay on my Xanax. I have the breathing exercise. I have my tattoo therapy. I have my weed. I have this blog. I have my family and friends. I have my animals and my fiance. And if all of that fails, I either end up angry or crying. I prefer angry. For me, anger is easier to control than sadness. So here's an angry song that's been stuck in my head for days, probably because the main words to the song are "breathe with me."


The Prodigy - "Breathe"

Thursday, September 22, 2011

A digest of my recent tweets

So I was just looking back through my Twitter page for a specific link I had posted, when I actually laughed out loud at some of the things I had recently tweeted myself. Not the tweets where I'm sharing something I find interesting, or music I'm listening to or books I'm reading. I mean the tweets I actually compose myself. Now I share with you, dear readers, some of my recently tweeted nonsense. They are in order from most recent to least recent, and are all from the month of September. Some of these also showed up as Facebook statuses, so if you're friends with me on there this may be repetitive for you. Enjoy!

P.S. Follow me on Twitter!

Apparently, the words "glorified babysitter" should be inserted somewhere into my job description. - 9/21/11

Going to some family thing with Josh & his mother. We're not even there yet and I'm already exhausted and irritated. - 9/18/11

Seriously Facebook, stop fucking with things. Every time I get used to it you change shit around. Knock it off. - 9/18/11

Gotta love the names of the late-night softcore porn movies on HBO. "Bikini Frankenstein." Hilarious. - 9/17/11

Walking a mile in 3 inch heels, even though they're on my favorite, most comfortable pair of boots, was not a great idea. - 9/16/11

Hermes, Sephora, True Religion, countless shoe stores....the retail gods tease me when I'm walking to & from the PATH station. - 9/15/11

Extra innings are only fun when your team wins. - 9/15/11

Retweeted from @: I would like to someday be able to raise a question and watch it grow into an answer. - 9/14/11

What's got 2 thumbs and an interview at NY Mag on Friday? This girl! - 9/14/11

"Other people will try to make you miserable; don't help them by doing the job yourself." - Laurell K. Hamilton - 9/13/11

Trying to avoid my regularly scheduled Sunday night anxiety attack... - 9/12/11

I am the picture of laziness today. I'd take a picture of it, but I'm too lazy to do so. - 9/10/11

Someone told me today "You have a beautiful face,but why do you look so stressed out?" Um, maybe because I am. But thanks for the compliment. - 9/10/11

It's been 20 years since the first Lollapalooza? Holy shit I'm old. - 9/9/11

Pissed does not even begin to describe what I am right now. - 9/7/11

Left my good umbrella on the train & had to buy a piece of crap one from a street vendor. One good wind gust & this thing's toast. - 9/6/11

Come ON NyQuil, do your job already! - 9/3/11

No reason for my job to call me on my day off w/an "urgent" matter.I'm not on deadline, & it's not a life or death industry. Leave me alone. - 9/2/11

Retweeted from @: It often happens that a man is more humanely related to a cat or dog than to any human being - 9/2/11

Sunday, August 21, 2011

Super short movie reviews for insomniacs.

Because I've seen a bunch of movies recently (and let's be honest, because I can't sleep), I figured I'd give my opinions on them, Twitter-style. Like 140(ish) characters or less. Not because I couldn't write a longer review, but simply because I'm lazy. Clicking on a movie title will take you to the IMDB page for that movie. Enjoy.

Soul Surfer
I simply loved this movie. I wanted to cry several times, but sometimes they were happy tears. Just a wonderful story of a very brave and determined girl.

Rise of the Planet of the Apes (2011)
So much better than the Mark Wahlberg Apes remake. This one actually felt more intelligent, not so comic-booky. James Franco & John Lithgow were awesome, and the apes were so freaking cool.

Bad Teacher
Absolutely hilarious. Cameron Diaz and Jason Segal were deliciously raunchy together, and Justin Timberlake played the perfect corny dork. This will be one of those movies that I won't mind watching a bunch of times.

Sucker Punch
This was 2 hours of my life that I'll never get back. I won't even pretend to understand anything that happened in this movie. Not even the hot chicks kicking ass could save it.

Cowboys & Aliens
Cowboys + aliens = epic. I loved it. I've read some negative reviews (several, actually), but I never pay attention to reviews. If I had, I would've missed an awesome movie. And Daniel Craig shirtless. Very important.

X-Men: First Class
I'm a huge fan of the X-Men & Wolverine movies. They're my favorite comic movies. Yet I was prepared to hate this one, because sometimes prequels can really suck. I was pleasantly surprised. They were pretty good about consistency, and it was fun to see mutants who haven't yet appeared on screen. Riptide, Banshee, Havok, Emma Frost....yeah I totally geeked out.

I Am Number Four
This wasn't nearly as good as the previews led me to believe it would be. Slow as shit...I started to fall asleep a couple of times. And man, I love Timothy Olyphant, but not even he could make this more watchable.

Here's another movie which didn't get great reviews but I really enjoyed. Granted, I never read the graphic novels, but so what. I liked the storyline, the vampires were cool, and the fight scenes were pretty kickass.

Red Riding Hood
LOVED IT. Loved the take on the story, and the performances by Gary Oldman, Virginia Madsen, and Amanda Seyfried.

Tuesday, August 9, 2011

It's the end of the world as we know my mind.

When I was a kid, I had a recurring dream/nightmare. The scenario was this: my mom, my Aunt Carol & Uncle Tim, myself, and my sister & brother are all in a car. The destination was never clear, there was just the sense that we were going somewhere far away. Always at one point in the dream, we would have to cross a bridge over a huge span of water. Only the bridge wasn't really a bridge at all, but a chain (kind of like those roller coaster chains) which you attached your car to and let it pull you over the water. Now in my kid mind, the expanse of water seemed too large to cross, and I was scared from the moment we started forward over the water. Halfway across, the chain would come loose and the car would start to fall into the water....and then I'd wake up crying. Every time. I had this dream at least once every couple of months for a long time, though once I hit my teens it disappeared.

Fast-forward to my late 20's/early 30's (because no dreams of note happened until then, which is weird considering how much fucked up shit I went through during that time). When I was maybe about 28, 29 or so, I started to have another recurring dream/nightmare. Only now it's much more complicated and the details are not always the same, as they were with my childhood nightmare. I call them my "end-of-the-world-disaster dreams."

The scenario is this: the world is ending in some way, I'm the only person who seems to know the world is ending, and I am responsible for finding and saving everyone I love. This doesn't just include my family, by the way. Apparently it's my family, friends, animals...anyone I love. The details always change. For example, the world is always ending via a different method. The last one I had involved terrorists of some kind embedding an explosive device into the ocean floor. A device which was on a timer and would destroy the world, and apparently I'm the only person in my dream who's aware of the situation. I've also had one in which the end of the world comes in the form of a serial killer who's determined to exterminate everyone on the planet. And again, I'm the only one aware of the situation, and the only one who can save the people I love.

Other details change as well...we're always in a different location (always in the U.S., but always a different state). The order in which I have to save people is always different. Sometimes my mom is first, sometimes my dog is first, sometimes my sister is first, etc. The method of saving people is always different. The place we all go to be safe is always somewhere different (sometimes an underground bunker, sometimes someone's abandoned house, etc.), and we're never safe for very long. Someone always ends up needing to be saved twice, and it's always a different person.

These dreams fuck me up big time. They scare the shit out of me. I always wake up crying, and am always afraid to go back to sleep because more often than not the dream comes back when I fall back to sleep. And I mean it literally picks up exactly where it left off when I woke up. Usually the day after I've had one of these dreams, I'm useless for most of the day due to being extremely exhausted and extremely anxious. I know they're just dreams. But that doesn't calm my mind, and it doesn't disperse the awful feeling they leave me with all day.

Normally (ha, as if there's anything normal about this) I only have these dreams once in while. Sometimes I go months without having one. But when things are fucked up in my life, or I'm too stressed out, they come back with a vengeance. I had 4 last week alone. Which equals zero sleep all week. Also, Josh told me that one night last week (can't remember which one, the whole week is a goddamn blur) he woke up and I had him in a choke hold.
I was apologizing profusely, starting to cry, feeling horrible and saying things like "I could have killed you!" Then I remembered that I had those dreams all week, and I told him that. I said "maybe in my dream I thought you were the bad guy." But Josh, ever positive, presented another, probably more plausible scenario: "Maybe I was drowning and you had to save me." Is it any wonder I love the man?

It doesn't take a shrink to figure this shit out. I put too much responsibility on myself even in my dreams, and this is how it manifests. It sucks, because as an insomniac, any sleep I can get is freaking precious, and having it disrupted in the most disturbing way possible does not promote sound sleep. Shit, it doesn't promote any sleep.

This post was prompted by last night's end-of-the-world-disaster dream, because it fucked me up for the majority of the day and I just needed to get it out. If you made it this far, congratulations and thanks for reading my dream rant.

Friday, July 1, 2011

Conversations With My Sister #1

So I'm starting this new thing called Conversations With My Sister, because she's fucking hilarious and some of our conversations are too entertaining (or ridiculous, depending how you look at it) not to be shared.  *Don't worry sis, no personal shit, I promise.* 

This one began because she asked me if I'd watched that new show Wilfred yet. Click here if you haven't heard of it. She tells me it's funny as hell. I have not seen it yet, and there are now 2 episodes on my DVR waiting for me. I suck at DVR, by the way.

So then we got to talking about Elijah Wood, and I told her that every time I see him all I can think about is the creepy ass bad guy he played in Sin City. The glowing eyes, the fucked up shit he did? It just stuck with me. Probably doesn't help that I'll watch Sin City anytime it's on, but whatever. She's only seen it once, which is completely beside the point...
Anyway, when I told her that, she laughed and said "What do you MEAN? He's been in so many things!" I think I said something about The Lord of the Rings being what he's best known for (I could be wrong about this - honestly I have no idea), and something about Hobbits. I'm not entirely sure. But her answer made me laugh so hard for some reason and was definitely the funniest thing I heard that day, and is the inspiration for this whole Conversations With My Sister series:

"But he's not just any Hobbit. He's the most important Hobbit."

This may be one of those "you really had to be there" things. Or not. Either way, I thought it was freaking funny and wanted to share. I won't be irritating and post every single conversation we have, but I will share the ones that entertain me. Maybe they'll entertain someone else. :)

Wednesday, June 29, 2011

The Saga of the Missing Engagement Ring

It started off like any other morning: I woke up late, was far too rushed, hated life...the usual.

I don't sleep with my rings on. Sometimes when it's hot, my fingers swell. Yeah, it sucks. So this morning when I woke up and couldn't get my rings on (SO annoying), I figured I'd do what I usually do when that happens: stick them in my pocket and put them on once my fingers un-swell. Only I didn't stick them right in my pocket because I was afraid they would fall out on the way to the car (oh, hello irony). So as I'm getting ready to go out the door, I'm juggling the rings, my phone and my cigarettes in one hand, my keys in the other, and trying to grab my purse. Of course I would drop something. Yep, dropped the engagement ring. But it was right there, in the house, and I picked it back up and continued on.

Around the time I was getting to the train station, I realized my engagement ring was NOT IN THE CAR. Anywhere. I knew I had picked it up before I left the house, so I emptied my purse, tore the car apart...nothing. At that point I had to run for the stupid train, so I called Josh (crying of course) and begged him to look everywhere for it, including the path I had taken from the apartment to the car, and the parking space and surrounding area. Because he's wonderful, he did all of that for me, but still didn't find it. And then I pick a fight, because I'm miserable and hating myself at the moment for losing the ring. He said things like "I'm not mad at you" (honestly it never even crossed my mind that he would be) and "I'm not going to be stupid and tell you it's just a ring, but I can buy you a new one." My responses were mostly things like "That's not the POINT!" and "I don't want a new one! It's not the same!" and "It's not about just the ring, it's about what it represents!" Yeah, I was fun. Josh is a trooper.

So of course I stress myself out about it. All. Day. Long. I ask Josh to check outside again. He tells me it's raining. To which my irrational brain told my mouth to reply "It's raining?? It could get washed away! Or buried in mud!" His response? "Calm down, it's only drizzling. It's probably not out there anyway, I bet it's in your car." Wrong, smartass.

I called and cried about it to my sister and my mom. I was probably pretty annoying. Public apology right here ladies.

Got back to my car at the end of the day and tore it apart again. No ring. I texted Josh (because I always text him once I'm in the car at night, it's just a thing we do) "in the car. no ring." He texted back he was sorry. I cried all the way home, kicked myself some more for losing the ring, and smoked a bunch. Then when I pulled into the parking lot, I thought to myself, you know, let me check the path and the parking lot one more time before I go inside and rip the house apart, maybe Josh wasn't sure where I parked last night. Grabbed my flashlight and searched long enough to get even more discouraged than I already was. I looked under the car which was currently occupying my space (thanks, asshole), the cars on either side of it, the path, and the parking lot. On my second pass through the parking lot I found the fucking ring. It was laying in the middle of the goddamn parking lot. IN THE MIDDLE OF THE GODDAMN PARKING LOT. How the fuck did I not realize I'd dropped it on the way to the car? Ugh, whatever.

Luckily the ring survived. It was obvious it had gotten run over (probably by me, because that's my life), but all of the stones were there. It's just bent to shit. Josh is taking it to the jeweler tomorrow to get it fixed for me. He stayed calm throughout the entire ordeal, balancing out the crazy that is me. And that's what the ring represents, and why I couldn't possibly replace it.

Tuesday, June 28, 2011

So I popped my Comic Con cherry.

So Josh and I went to our first Comic Con last weekend (6/18) and it was quite the experience. We started out late (Come on, what else did you expect? This is me we're talking about.) and forgot to stop for food on the way, but we made good time...until it was time to find parking. I swear we drove around in a fucking circle for an hour looking for somewhere to park that didn't look too shady because I saw that the parking garages were $28 and I said "Fuck THAT, let's see if there's anything cheaper." Since I was driving, I was going to do what I wanted anyway, but finally Josh got fed up and said "Fuck it! Just park in the garage and we'll pay the fucking 28 bucks! I have to pee!" At which point I began to laugh hysterically (also contributed to by the long drive, the heat, lack of sleep, and the fact that I had to pee too) and he told me to stop making him laugh because he had to pee. Hey, at least we got our crabby moods out of the way and started the Con on a good note. Yeah I know, we're awesome.

There was a line that was seemingly 5 miles long to get in. Naturally I assumed this was for the morons who hadn't bought advance tickets. The chick at the door quickly crushed my hopes with one sentence "Oh no, that IS the line for advance ticket holders." Fuck me.

So we walked the entire length of the line, discussed the possibility of cutting a few times (oh calm down, we didn't actually DO it), and finally ended up at the end of the line behind some dude who seemed way too interested in our conversations. I mean, he was so obvious about it. He actually would turn around and look right at us when we said something he deemed interesting. Wouldn't say a word, just looked at us. Then turned around again. Freaking creepy shit.

Finally, finally we made it to the front of the line, where they were giving out free Sabra hummus samples. That threw me. Hummus samples, at Comic Con? Really? I just don't see that as a great venue for hummus, but maybe that's just me.

Got inside, found our respective restrooms, did our respective things, and began our tour of Comic Con, making sure we knew what time it was because there was no way in hell we were missing the Bruce Campbell Q&A at 5pm. Shit, Bruce Campbell was really most of the reason we were going; Josh is a huge fan. He was already pissed that he forgot to bring Bruce Campbell's book for him to sign. I wasn't going to make it worse by missing that Q&A.

Pretty damn cool overall, I have to say. I totally geeked out on a lot of things...the original 1966 Batmobile, The Mystery Machine, John Schneider, this chick with an amazing Lady Death costume which I unfortunately didn't get a picture of, these random dudes dressed as Spaceballs which I also didn't get a picture of, Norman Reedus (Boondock Saints! Walking Dead!), and the Tribble booth. Yes, I almost bought a Tribble. Josh talked me down.

We missed Adam West and Burt Ward, which sucked, because that would've been a ridiculous geekout moment for me. We walked around sharing a soggy overpriced pretzel and guzzling warm overpriced sodas, checking everything out. Adam Baldwin's line was out of control, no thanks. Lou Ferrigno looked like he was kind of a dick, and had his people all over the place yelling "no pictures!" --Side note: What is that about, anyway? Why no pictures? What is Lou Ferrigno doing now that's so great? He wasn't the only one, either. Lots of the guests' handlers were policing the picture taking. I just don't get it.-- Checked out all the cars, considered getting a photo IN the Batmobile but didn't feel like paying for it...and then there was Bruce Campbell's booth. They were only letting VIPs through for autographs at that point ($30 a pop, by the way), but I sneaked us onto the line (all while Josh was whispering "no, what are you doing, are you crazy?") and his manager let us through. My efforts clearly paid off, as I actually saw that fanboy glow in Josh's eyes when he got to have an actual conversation with Bruce Campbell.

Right after that was the Q&A, which was absolutely hilarious. I've never laughed so hard for that long. It felt wonderful. Click the link below to check it out. It's about 43 minutes long. Apologies in advance for the 2 quick skips at the beginning, any camera shakiness on our part, and the annoyingly loud tool sitting next to us.

Bruce Campbell Comic Con Q&A

Afterward we wandered around a bit more, as things were winding down. Not many celebs left around, most with signs in their booths that said when they'd be there the next day. But then lo and behold, Alaina Huffman (Stargate Universe, Smallville). If I thought Josh was starstruck before, it was nothing compared to this. He got so nervous he started babbling stuff at her about how Black Canary should've been in more episodes of the last season of Smallville. It was cute. She was really awesome about it, and super adorable in person. He got a picture with her, which just about made his entire day.

Click here for our Comic Con pics

Ended the night at TGIFriday's with a burger and a beer (well, tequila for him), and came home exhausted but happy. I call it a good day.

Wednesday, June 8, 2011

Really? REALLY??

Really? After all this time, after everything that's happened, my douchebag (spell check tells me that douchebag should be hyphenated, but I'm not going to hyphenate it. What a rebel.) ex-fiance is stalking me online? REALLY?? Literally, he is going through my Facebook friends list (which I thought was private and unavailable to him since I have him blocked. Silly me thinking anything's really private.), and trying to add all of my friends. He is also stalking my list of Twitter followers. Seriously, dude?

To be fair, I suppose it's hard to find friends of your own when you're a 37-year-old failure of a former "pro" wrestler who's living with a 19-year-old girl and working at Dunkin' Donuts because nobody's going to hire a personal trainer with a gut. No, I didn't make that up. That's really what his life has become since I finally dumped his ass in 2007.

That's right, I said 2007. So, why is this stalking happening now, more than 4 years later? I honestly have no answer for that. Maybe he's realizing what a "winner" he is now, and is trying to find a way back into my life, since I'm happy and less than a year away from getting married. Maybe he's just a fucking scrub who's trying to hijack my friends because nobody gives a shit about his stupid indy wrestling shows, so he'll try to "promote" to them so people actually show up. I don't know. All I know is that it's fucking annoying. I'm not in high school anymore, so I don't feel the need to be drawn into high school games. The only thing this has succeeded in doing was irritating me. Maybe that was his goal, I don't know and I don't care. Really, he just needs to go away.

I'm assuming he'll see this post at some point since he's stalking me. Or not. I couldn't care less one way or the other, truly. And THAT is winning.

Tuesday, April 19, 2011


Well now there is a perfectly legitimate reason for my trucker mouth. As if I needed one, but whatever. Check it out:

Curse Words Help Numb Pain

Though I can't honestly say cursing makes anything I do to myself in the name of being a klutz any less painful, it certainly doesn't make it hurt any more. So fuck it. What's the normal person's verbal response to pain of any kind? Cursing. Real people don't say "shoot" or "darn" when they burn themselves on the stove. Real people say "shit" or "fuck" or, in my case "motherfucker!" We're not television characters. So curse away folks, and in the process you may actually ease some of your pain, who knows?

Wednesday, March 23, 2011

Hello, my name is Melanie and I'm lottery-impaired.

I don't normally play the lottery (remember that for later in the post). Mostly it's just laziness about remembering to buy tickets, but it's also partially because it always seems to me that the winner is some redneck somewhere in middle America living in a trailer with 100 kids, and hell, I need to keep every dollar I can anyway.

Yesterday my mother called me specifically to tell me that I needed to play the Mega Millions because it was up to $247 million or some such ridiculousness. So, I figured what the hell, and on the way home from work I stopped at a Quick Chek that I always stop at, and where most of the cashiers know me, and proceeded to ask the kid behind the register for a quick pick for the Powerball. He printed it out and then he goes "You know, you should probably be playing the Mega Millions, it's up to like $240 million." To which I responded "Shit! That was what I was supposed to get!" So now we have an 18-year-old kid laughing at a totally spaced out commuter, apparently. Then I decided to be adventurous and pick my own numbers for one of the tickets. My mistake.

I had to ask the fucking kid for help.

I'm looking at this paper with a zillion numbers on it and thinking to myself "I have no fucking idea what I'm supposed to do here, am I really going to have to ask this kid for help?" Yeah, I totally needed to ask the kid for help.

So he explains it to me, I say "Not obvious at all that I never play the lottery, is it?" making him laugh at me yet again. Then I fill the damn thing out and end up paying for 2 Mega Millions tickets and 1 Powerball ticket (because he had already printed it out and I felt bad).

After that fiasco, I called my mother on my way home to tell her the story, since really it was all her fault anyway. She laughed so hard she practically choked, and thanked me for the laugh. That made me smile, and made the whole thing almost worth it.

Saturday, February 19, 2011

Comparing Marilyn Monroe to cake? Sure, why not.

I'm a huge Marilyn Monroe fan. One of my goals is to own every movie she's ever done, and I'm actually pretty close to reaching it. Most of her really early stuff is out of print and super hard to find, but I'm still working on it. My two favorite MM movies are Don't Bother to Knock and Gentlemen Prefer Blondes.

Anyway, I came across this awesome post entitled Red-Hot: A Treat-ise on Marilyn Monroe and Red Velvet Cake. I truly enjoyed reading it. There are some great comparisons and I love the author's take on it. So, I'm sharing it. Enjoy! :)

Friday, February 18, 2011

Late, I can stay up late, in and out of bed...

I am late for everything. EVERYTHING. I'm late for work. I'm late for family gatherings. I'm late for doctor's appointments. I've been late for court, vet appointments, meetings, jury duty, weddings and funerals. Hell, even my period can't decide whether to be late or not most of the time.

There is one thing I am never late for, however. A deadline at work. I always make my deadlines. It drives me batshit when people ignore deadlines, or act like the deadline is merely a suggestion rather than an actual deadline. They're deadlines for a reason, people. If you don't meet your deadline, you're jeopardizing my deadline, and that just pisses me off.

I've even padded the schedule and given false deadlines, that's how bad it gets. But even then, there's always someone who misses it, and always someone who pushes it until the very last minute. Both of my magazines are running so late right now that this week was absolute hell, and I've been so stressed that it's taking me forever to wind down tonight and realize that I don't have to deal with any of it for 2 whole days.

2 whole days.
It's SO not enough.

Yep, I started a blog.

So after several people suggesting that I start my own blog since I always have something to say...well, I did. Since it's nearly 3am and I really need to be asleep, this first post will just be some random stuff about me, like an introduction. I promise the posts will get more interesting from here on out. :)

*NJ Gypsy Queen
*Member of The Dirty Diamonds, Girls of Modified, and Angels With Ink.

*part-time alt/tattooed model
*former punk rock singer for the band Pop-Up Porn
*rescuer of animals
*world's biggest klutz, seriously
*mouth like a trucker

A ridiculous amount of my memory capacity seems to be dedicated to song lyrics.

I have several tattoos and I want more.

I have this weird habit of bending paper clips into and out of shapes when I'm at work.

At any given time I have at least 3 shades of lip gloss in whichever purse/bag I'm carrying.

I love my family, friends, and animals and don't know what I'd do without any of them.

The beach is my favorite place to be.

I love music and seriously don't think I could live without it.

I have a major shoe and purse addiction.
Give me a burger and a beer and I'm a happy girl.
There is always a bottle of Pepsi in my fridge.

My first crush was Jack Tripper. My second crush was Hawkeye Pierce.
I make a mean chocolate chip cheesecake.

"Appetite for Destruction" by Guns N' Roses is the only album which I own in 4 formats: vinyl, cassette, CD, and mp3.

"Ave Maria" affects me like no other piece of music ever written.

The song "In the Air Tonight" by Phil Collins creeps me out so much I can't hear even 2 seconds of it.

One of my favorite completely random things to do is watch competitive dog shows on TV.

Two of my favorite TV characters of all time are Alice on The Honeymooners and Karen on Will & Grace.

My favorite piece of art is Van Gogh's "Starry Night."

I love interesting little dive bars.
I'm late for everything.
I can cross my eyes.

I fucking HATE clowns.

I'm VERY impatient.
I have a wicked temper.

I can be quite sarcastic.
I have a tendency to be brutally honest, I sugarcoat nothing and I rarely edit myself. If I think you're an asshole, I'll tell you so.
I offer no apologies for who and what I am.