7 Things (10/26-11/1).

1. The Master Cleanse.
Sorry I haven’t posted on here in awhile.  I was too busy starving myself and blogging over here.  The good news is that the Master Cleanse is over.  Forever. The even good-er news is that you’ll never have to read about the contents of my colon again.  It’s a win-win for both of us.

2. Benefits of the Cleanse, Part I.
It did wonders for my allergies and sinuses.  The last time I went for a run (pre-cleanse) I was very short of breath and almost asthmatic.  For my first post-Cleanse run I kicked some ass.  I ran all of Central Park… that’s 6.5 miles in just under 55 minutes.  If only the former, 30 plus pounds, grade school version of myself could see me now!

3. Benefits of the Cleanse, Part II.
Besides 100+ lemons and three bottles of expensive organic maple syrup, I didn’t spend any money on food for 10 days.  An even bigger miracle… no money spent on coffee or booze.  Thanks to the Cleanse, I was able to transfer a serious chunk of change into my savings account.  I’ve set a goal for myself to have X amount of money in my savings by the end of the year.  Currently, I’m ¾ of the way there.   It’s nice to have money saved up… especially when you already know what you’re going to spend it on: Plane tickets.

For much of 2009 I’m going to be touring the US. So far I have:

1. Trip home for my sister’s wedding(!)
2. (Possibly separate) trip home for my BF to meet the rents.
3. Trip to San Antonio to meet the BF’s rents.
4. Possible gay-cation/winter-get-away to Florida.

And most importantly…

5. Trip with the BF to Dollywood. Yes, DOLLYWOOD!!!

4. Work.
They’re downsizing before the end of the year.  The good news: I’m not losing my job.  The bad news: I’m not losing my job.

5. Married Life.
I’m enjoying it immensely, thank you.  Last weekend I baked an apple pie:

And the BF taught me how to sew.  You see, the BF hosted a Martyr Party for All Saints Day, and I decided that instead of spending $50 on a stupid costume that I would only wear once, I should just make one from scratch.  Well after a trip to Mood, Broadway Fabrics, Pearl Paint, Lee’s Art Store, and American Apparel… I ended up spending $50 anyway.  But at least my costume was handmade with love (and a little frustration.)  Much better than buying something from Ricky’s that has been handmade by slave children in Malaysia.

6. Martyr Party.
I went as Joan of Arc burning at the stake, because after all, I have the hair for it.  Ironically enough, I don’t have any pics of my fabulous Joan hair.   Thankfully, I happened to take these two pics while getting ready in the bathroom… before I consumed too much wine and ate my weight in baked brie.

7. Stylista.
Every year the CW has some shitty new reality show that is so bad, it never gets another season.  (Yes, I’m looking at you, Crowned: The Mother of All Pageants.)  And every year, I get sucked into watching it.  When I first saw the promos for Stylista I said to myself, “This is going to be the year that I break the cycle!”  But then my BF, who made fun of me for watching the first episode of that other CW Crapfest: 90210 (out of morbid curiosity, I swear), decided to DVR it.  And of course, now that I’ve seen one episode, I have to watch them all.

The only person more unlikeable than the brainlessly bland contestants, is this botoxed cow:

I don’t hate her as much as I hate Rachel Zoe.  But then again, that’s like saying I don’t hate 9/11 as much as I hate the Holocaust.

Now We Are 29.

Last night, my first thought crawling into bed was, “Shit, in 365 days I turn 30.” My second thought was, “I’m crawling into bed with my boyfriend. How nice.”

A year ago, had my past-self met with my present-self (which I guess back then would have been my future-self), my past-self would have been shocked (in a good way) to hear that I would be in a serious, four-month relationship by the time I turned 29.

One year ago today, I set out to find myself a boyfriend… for the first time in 27 years. I decided that it was time to get over my irrational fear of men and to start going on some (bad) dates. And believe me, there were plenty.

All my life I was convinced that dating wasn’t for me. And with the number of awkward dates that I forced myself to go on, it only cemented my belief that I would be better off spending the rest of my life flying solo.

But then, after one very promising date, everything changed. I met my Prince Charming… and the rest is history. (As a testament to how much things have changed, I just typed “Prince Charming” without gagging or tasting vomit in the back of my throat.)

I met my goal for 28: Stop running away from potential relationships. Mission accomplished. It took about eight months, but I finally found someone that actually made me change my mind about being a “Forever Single.”

So what’s next? Why am I still scared of turning 30?

Well, there’s just one area left in my life that I’d still like to change.

I’m happy to be living in New York. I’m happy to be writing again. I’m happy to have a loving boyfriend. However… 5 days a week it still kills me to have to wake up and go to a job that I loathe.

A year ago, this is what my birthday horoscope read:

“Everyone was born with a talent and according to your birthday chart you will get the chance to make something of your special ability over the coming 12 months. What today may be no more than a hobby or marginal activity will by this time next year be a central, and lucrative, part of your life.“

While I didn’t expect to have my dream job (getting paid to writing) fall into by lap by then end of the year… I did promise myself that I would absolutely, no-doubt-about-it quit my job at the pharmacy before I turned 29.

Instead of waiting around for my dream job, I thought the least I could do was force myself to start looking for it on my own. And what better way to light a fire under your ass than to be unemployed, in desperate need of some income? In my fantasy world, I would have an extra 40 hours a week to write, and I would become more active in pursuing paid writing gigs.

However, here I am one year later and realistically, I am in no position to live that Bohemian, goateed-wearing, spending all day at Starbucks nursing the same coffee, lifestyle. So I’m extending my deadline. I’m giving myself another year.

Yes, I’m copping out. But I feel okay about doing so for two reasons:

1.) My work situation has (slightly) improved. I still hate my job, but I’m back to working four days a week. As long as I can stay self-disciplined, I plan to use that extra day for more writing.

2.) Although I’m only working four days a week, I’m actually making more money. And I’m back to saving it. Surprisingly enough, after a very spendy summer, the savings account I started last spring is not completely drained. And I plan to start putting more money into it this fall and winter. That way, when I finally do quit my job, I won’t be completely fucked.

So that’s Life @ 29. The year of finding a new job. Wish me luck!

7 Things (8/23-8/30).

1. Getting My Groove Back.
I’m happy to report that this time when I say, “I’m working on my show” I actually mean it. MD-BF and I have a new Sunday morning habit of hanging out at Starbucks for a few hours while I work diligently on my show, and he feeds his caffeine addiction. (Okay, we’re both addicted.) In a perfect world I would be writing more than once a week. But in that perfect world, I also wouldn’t have a full time job that got in the way of writing. (Of course, I would also have my Brooklyn Crafting Studio and Amy Sedaris would be my bestie.)

2. Homework.
I have some “research” to do for my show. Currently at home from Netflix, I have a copy of Bye Bye Birdie that I’m trying to force myself to watch. If anyone has a copy of The Vagina Monologues or Madonna’s Truth or Dare (which oddly, isn’t available on Netflix), please let me know. Thanks.

3. Work.
I’m thinking about going back down to four days a week. I’ve been putting in 9-10 hour days anyway. So doesn’t it make sense to only suffer 4 days a week instead of 5? Of course, trying to do 5 days worth of work in 4, may turn those 9-10 hour days into 11-12 hour ones. But at least I’ll have that extra day off to recoup.

4. Yoga.
If I have that extra day off of work I want to start Yoga classes. When I was young, because I spent so much of my free time writing, my parents always teased me that I when I grew up I was gonna be a goateed poet who spent all of my time in coffee shops. And while I can’t deny the coffee shop part of the prediction, it seems that my hippie tendencies have taken me in a different direction. I don’t eat meat and I want to take Yoga. What’s next, I’m gonna throw out my TV? (Doubtful. Especially since I still don’t have one to throw out.)

5. TV.
I have to buy one this week. Top Model premiers on Wednesday!!! Thankfully, my BF is a T.M. junkie too, so I can just watch it at his place. However, there are two other shows premiering this week that I’m too ashamed to watch in front of my BF.

6. Sarah Palin.
Of course I immediately hate her and everything she stands for. However, if just for a moment, I was able to suspend my disbelief and pretend that she wasn’t an evil witch, this photo of her from the NY Times would make me hate her 1% less:

7. Project Runway.

I was a little worried that without my beloved Nina Garcia there this week, the wrong person might get sent home. Thankfully, once I saw that Blayne, Lady Leather and Keith were in the bottom three, I was able to breath a sigh of relief.

Oh Keith, I liked you during Episode One. But as soon as Episode Two hit and I spotting that fucking rattail sprouting out of the back of your head, my distaste for you put you just below Sarah Palin on the Brian Kennedy Scale of Hatred.

Also, who the fuck is this bitch and why does she have her own show on Bravo? For me, she falls right below Meg Ryan on said Scale of Hatred.

7 Things (8/17-8/23). [Part I]

1. My Job.
Now that I’m working for two, I’ve been putting in a bunch of OT… which is good for my checkbook, but bad for my mental health. This week I clocked in 15 hours of OT. Everyday I go into work thinking, “I can do this. I can stick it out for a few more months. The money is good.” But by the end of the day, the only thought running through my head is “Kill, kill, kill.”

2. Sugar Rush.
One of the only perks of my job is that about once a month we get a free lunch. This week, we got two. That meant back to back days of ginormous dessert trays. If you know me (or my sister) at all, you know that us Kennedy Kids have no self-control when it comes to sweets. Growing up the cupboards were always stocked with snacks, and no dinner went without being followed by a tasty dessert. It’s not that we didn’t eat healthy, we did. But sometimes “healthy” was in reference to the portions and not the content. (We were also a family of “options.” My mom would suggest that my sister and I have should have apple slices or grapes for a snack. But instead, we would always “opt” for the Twizzlers or Cheez Balls.)

At work, I have the misfortune of working in the basement… right next to the break table. So with the dessert tray staring at me all day long, I had no option but to fall into my nasty old habits of feeding my inner fatty. For the curious, Wednesday’s dessert tray definitely trumped Tuesday’s dessert tray. Key lime tart. Fudgy peanut butter bar with dizzled goodness. And my personal favorite: chocolate dipped macaroon!

Since they were cut into smaller servings (therefore smushed all together in my stomach, they probably only equaled one dessert…) I normally wouldn’t feel so bad about eating all three. But considering that Dr. Boyfriend also happened to hand deliver a Magnolia Bakery cupcake to me at work that day, (which I made my co-worker split with me) I ended up feeling like this. But in my defense, some of my gluttonous actions can be blamed on stress eating. (See #1.)

3. Running.
After my sugar feeding frenzy earlier this week, I went for a very hard run both Wednesday and Saturday. I did my usual 4-5ish mile run through Central Park, but both times I upped my speed. Saturday I clocked in at 35 minutes, which means I was doing roughly 8 minute miles. Considering that I used to have to walk the mile run in grade school with all of the fat girls and the girls who wearing having “women prloblems,” I’m pretty proud of my accomplishment.

Helping my speed was my competitiveness. Thanks to the Summer Olympics, I now like to pretend that I am competing in a race against my other Central Park joggers. When I fly by someone who is walking, I feel really good about myself. I would never just up and quit like that, no matter how much pain I was in. But on the flip side, when someone whizzes past me, I tell myself that they just started the race. They’ll get tired and fizzle out soon enough, well before the finish line. Welcome to my world. Check your ego at that door.

4. My Sister.
My sister (who is very short and has not been blessed with luxuriously long gams like me) has put my running exploits to shame by completing a half marathon with her BF this weekend. The most I have ever run is just over 10 miles. They did 13… in front of a crowd! After the marathon she sent me a text that read, “We finished! I met death half way through the race but he said I could pull through. Now time 4 my couch and some magic pills! PS even my toes hurt.” I congratulated her and told her that I too was on the couch after a grueling morning of sleeping in, eating breakfast and watching TV. Her courage has inspired me to maybe one day gather up enough energy to do a google search for half marathons in NYC.

7 Things.

No, the title of this post isn’t a reference to that god-awful song sung by that god-awful slut, Miley Cyrus. Instead, it’s a new weekly feature that I’m adding to my blog.

Since I’ve stopped blogging on a daily basis, I’m sure you’re all wondering what boring, self-deprecating, semi-neurotic musing on my homosexual lifestyle you’ve been missing on out.

So, to appease the masses (there are masses, right?)… here are 7 Things I Would Have Blogged About This Week.

1. My Hair.
As much as I loved my short, Robyn-esque, dyke hair this summer, I’ve decided to grow it back out again for the fall. Specifically for my b’day. I’ve already picked out the outfit I plan to wear, so why not have the hair to match? The good news is that my hair grows fast. The bad news is that it’s not growing fast enough. Last week my hair entered it’s “Awkward Phase.” Currently, I look like a person with short hair who is too lazy or poor to get it cut.

2. My Skin.
It’s flaking. I got some serious sunburn in Miami. The parts of my body that had not seen the light of day since I was young and carefree enough to run around outdoors wearing just a diaper, turned unpleasantly pink. In the past week I’ve shed almost an entire layer of skin. Like a snake. Or someone with severe psoriasis who can’t stop scratching at it.

3. The Olympics.
I’m actually enjoying watching them!

Behold the power of Adonis-like men in spandex!

I suspect that my love of all things competitive is also to blame.

4. Work.
Surprise, surprise… I continue to hate my job. I’ve been looking for something new, but with the economy as shitty as it is, I’d probably have a better chance of winning the lottery and retiring early than finding a new job that will pay me a comparable salary to what I make now, working in hell. And speaking of hell… the one co-worker that I actually liked working with in the dungeon quit. So now, instead of doing the work of two people… I’ll be doing the work of three people, as my third co-worker continues to get paid to be a professional e-mailer.

5. Airline Outrage.
My sister and one of my dear Hags have been bugging to me come home for a quick visit this fall. My sis wants me to bring home Doctor Boyfriend to meet the rest of the fam, and my Hag wants me to come home to meet the love child that I may-or-may-not have fathered. (J/K, sickos.) It used to be that I could get a flight home for just under $200. Yeah, and I also remember the days when gas was 98 cents a gallon. Now the cheapest deal I could find was in the $300 range… and that was only if I wanted to go home for a week and a half. Tickets for a long weekend were dangerously close to the price of rent. Disgusting. Sorry kiddos, but it looks like I won’t be home again until Christmas. (Assuming of course, that I get approved for the small loan I’ll need to take out .)

6. Running.
Thursday night after work I went for an extremely long run in Central Park. Afterwards, Doctor Boyfriend took me out for dinner. Unfortunately, I pushed myself too hard during my run, and I suddenly felt nauseous. I took about 5 bites of pasta and spent the rest of my time staring at my plate. I was afraid that if I lifted my head too far up, the bright lights might make my head explode. After dinner MD-BF was sweet enough to put his doctoring skills to use by laying me down on the couch, and treating my illness with a dose of ginger-ale and a Project Runway booster shot. Which brings me to my last point…

7. Project Runway.
How could they have sent Kelli home?

Really? Over Blayne? I was having flashbacks to last season’s Ricky Gate.

Also, I still hate Brooke Shields.

SJP, you ain’t.

DAY 219: I’ve Got A New Attitude… Or, Things Are About To Get Real Heavy Up In Here.

Okay, I’m sure by now you’re sick of hearing me bitch and moan about how depressed I’ve been. But just know that by the end of this post, things get better.

This morning while making my lunch for work, I dropped a glob of hummus onto the bag of bread that was out on the counter, and I started to cry. Well, I don’t really cry. I just make an ugly face and get all misty-eyed. I think maybe half of a tear came out.

This has to be more than detoxing from the “partying” I did this past weekend. I’m detoxing from my life as well.

I consider myself to be in a pretty happy place right now. But then, after a fabulous, carefree weekend in the country, I came back to city life to realize that I want more than what I have.

I can be a happy person, I know it’s possible. I just experienced it out in the middle of Nowhere, Pennsylvania. But back in the real world I’d rather be negative and cynical, because “it’s my thing.”

I have a lot of issues that need resolving:

1. My job. I hate it. I always have. I feel trapped. I know what I want to do with my life, but I don’t know how to get there. I’m starting to feel like this fantasy world I’ve created in my head of being a successful writer will never come true. Am I doomed to spend the rest of my life working jobs that I truly despise and acting like a cunt at them to prove that I don’t belong there?

2. My apartment. I don’t know how much money we’re going to owe or how soon we’ll have to move. I’m afraid the answers are “more than I thought” and “sooner than expected.” I guess this one is out of my hands and up to the fate of our hopefully fair and tenant-friendly judicial system.

3. My relationship with men. Riding home on the subway today I came to realize that I couldn’t remember that last guy I kissed, let alone the last guy that I kissed and actually wanted to kiss. Sure I’ve hooked up recently, but it was all hook-up, no romantic foreplay. On top of that, I now have a major infatuation that I wish I didn’t have, because the feelings are so real that it scares me too much to act upon it. I may be a man, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t have a pussy, or rather, act like one.

DIOS MIO!

But as promised, things get better…

When I got home from work today, I did something that I haven’t done for 5 months: I went for a run. My goal was to keep it short and make it past 3 Dolly songs on my iPod. But being a glutton for punishment, I doubled it, and lasted for 6 Dollys.

Sure, it was only a 20 minute run. But it was the ass kicking I needed to remind myself that I don’t have to lay around all day watching TV and feeling sorry for myself. Is taking up running again going to fix all of my problems? No. But I predict it will help me become at least 20% less mentally unbalanced.

After my after-run shower, I felt great. Helping me feel like there was reason to live still, were Jeannie and A. Rod who came over for our Wednesday Night Supper Club on a Tuesday.

All hope is not lost, dear readers! Sure, I still don’t have the solutions to any of my problems. But I’ve decided to stop wallowing. Maybe it’s foolish and unrealistic of me, but for the time being, I’m going to pretend that in the end, everything is gonna be alright.

I remember growing up, my parents used to make my siblings and I listen to this series on tape that was all about teaching kids how to stay positive. The main character was some sort of alien creature, who appeared to an all-American brother and sister duo, and taught them to look on the bright side of every situation. Even at the ripe old age of 10, I thought it was a crock of shit.

But now, 18 plus years later, I’m starting to think that maybe that kooky, kid-friendly alien that told me I had the power to chose whether or not I wanted to be happy, was on to something.

It’s true, I’m not getting any younger, and maybe it’s my perception that life isn’t getting any better. But feeling shitty about that definitely isn’t helping any.

I need to readjust my ‘tude and start looking at all the good things I have. And believe me, there are plenty.

Awwww. Now, don’t we all feel better?

If not, go hug someone. It helps.

DAY 214: A Much Needed Getaway.

Tomorrow morning Jeffrey and I are headed off to housing court, because our jerk-ass landlord is finally taking some action against our free loading, no-rent paying asses. He sent us an official, certified-by-the-city letter that said we had 5 days to respond. Of course he didn’t send it until 3 days after the 5 days had expired. Also, he didn’t really send it. He just stuck it to the outside of our door.

After that, I have to head into work to continue to have my soul sucked out of me. Work has been slightly better because my archenemy in the basement has been on vacation all week. Except yesterday she called and talked to me, ruining my vacation from her. She also called me sweetie, which makes my skin crawl.

Let’s see, what else can I complain about? Turbo Tax e-mailed me to tell me that my tax return was rejected. (Turns out my fat fingers mistyped my social security number.)

I have a certain improv audition coming up that I’m dreading already.

Oh yeah, and I’ve convinced myself that my teeth are rotting out of my head.

But fear not… there is reason to live!

This weekend Jeffrey and I have been invited back to Mary Land!

My blog won’t be updated again until late Sunday.

Don’t miss me too much.

XOXO,
Brian

DAY 205: Four Quickies.

1. This morning I gave up my seat on the A train for a mother and child. Bitch didn’t thank me. I shot her dirty looks in between Sudoku puzzles. (Yes, I’ve turned into a Sudoku person. It’s my secret shame.)

2. When I got to Starbucks for my morning Misto, the barista was cooing over some stupid baby in front of me. She took my order, but then started ringing up the customers behind me. When my drink was up, I took it and ran. I give Starbucks $2.55 Monday through Friday, I think I deserve a freebie every once in awhile. Also, I considered it karmic payback for my thankless act of giving up my seat on the subway this morning.

3. Today at work I had the misfortune of hearing my female co-worker (the one that I can’t stand) utter the phrase “panties off.” Chunks were rising. They still are.

4. Tonight for our weekly Wednesday Night TV Dinner Club, I made a creamy shrimp and pasta dish. It was a semi-complicated dish that involved boiling, frying, and baking. I was really surprised at how well it turned out. However, I had also eaten 1/4 of a pot cookie, and everything tastes better when slightly stone. Take for example our dessert: Brownie Sundaes. Mmmmm.

DAY 174: I Conformed.

For those wondering, yes I did keep my job. I decided what I already knew all along: Financially, I’m in no position to take a pay cut at a new job, no matter how happy that new job would make me.

Instead, I’ve decided to suck it up and continue to suffer at my old job. I did make a slight change in scheduling though. Starting next month I am going to take Wednesdays off in exchange for working Saturdays. Although working Saturdays is not ideal, I do like having my work week broken up… plus on Fridays and Saturdays I don’t have to fucking dress up.

Speaking of, today was my first of actually complying with the new dress code. It actually isn’t as bad as I thought, since the powers that be are allowing me to wear corduroy pants, a polo shirt, and black tennis shoes. The only problem is, I can’t justify going on any shopping sprees right now, so unfortunately, I’m going to be wearing the same outfit day after day.

This is what I’m sporting, only less Hipster-ish:

On my way out the door this morning I seriously felt like I should be grabbing my backpack and heading off to my first day of school. Except school was worse because I had to wear a tie and my pants were always a few inches too short. I was also about 20 pounds heavier and didn’t know how to style my hair. So I guess the lesson here is that things could always be worse.

DAY 169: Pre-Unemployement Party, Day Two.

Today was a little more productive for me. No, I didn’t look for a new job or shop for dress clothes to wear to my old job, should I keep it. But I did manage to do my laundry, Swiffer our hardwood floors, and do my least favorite thing in the entire world: clean the bathroom. Ish.

I’d almost rather be back at work than clean the bathroom. Almost.

And speaking of work…

WARNING: If you don’t want to read more boring work drama, skip to the end of this post where I talk about my American Idol voting(!)

At the pharmacy, I work in the dungeon. There are three of us that work down there: Myself, another technician, and a pharmacist who gets paid 3x as much as me and the other technician, but does 1/30th the work. She honestly has no idea what is going on. Her job is to e-mail her friends all day long and annoy me endlessly. Oh yeah, she also like to do her uptight, white girl dance (and sing-a-long) to my iPod. This is especially funny/sickening when I put on 50 Cent.

Now normally, I wouldn’t blog about my co-workers, because it has gotten me in hot water before. But now that I could care less about keeping my job, I’m allowing my silence to be broken.

Seriously, this woman sucks. I have already created two characters for my “Writing for a One Person Show Class” that are based on how stupid she is.

Because the universe is on my side, the other tech that I work with (who I absolutely adore) hasn’t been able to come into work since Monday. (She only works part time to begin with, and now there’s been some drama with her future baby’s daddy that needs attending to.)

So now, for the past two days, Stupidhead has been downstairs all alone. I can’t even imagine what sort of mess is going on. (I like the image Beta conjured up: Pills everywhere!)

I’m being mean, I know. So let’s talking about something else: American Idol!!!

I know you’ve all been dying to know who I voted for this week. Well, let your curiosity be quenched:

1 VOTE:

3 VOTES:

12+ VOTES (I lost count):