Congratulations, I’m SO Happy For You!

This past week I found out that the guy I dated last summer is getting married…NEXT WEEKEND.

I don’t think I ever really blogged about it because I was hurt and not in a let’s-defense-mechanism-joke-about-it mood. Quick synopsis:

Remember when I was “Officially Homeless?” Well I did stay with my mom for a few days but then got offered a sweet deal to stay up at Lake Winnipesaukee in New Hampshire for as long as I wanted for FREE. It was AHHHMAZING! My cousin was up there with his wife (then girlfriend…I wasn’t invited to the wedding for reasons you’ll understand in a moment) and had invited me out to play on his boat. It was great fun; we went to college together and his best friend who we also went to college ended up joining us. We also ended up all having dinner together; my cousin, his parents, the wife, the guy, and my dad. The guy showed up on his flashy wakeboarding boat and my dad’s like, “Who the hell are you?” It was pretty hilarious and from then on Dad went around referring to him as “Boat Boy.” After dinner they took me out and we all had a great night getting trashed on the town. Boat Boy and I made out on his boat and passed out on the cushions until it started raining. It was a great time. Anyway…we had a great weekend and a great few weeks after that until I left for school.

So what’s the catch? He seems like a great guy? Boat Boy had just broken up with his girlfriend of FIVE YEARS. It was a very strange story…they got engaged, broke that off, then broke up officially in July just a few weeks before our encounter. It was clear there was some emotional baggage but since I was already driving the emotional baggage train, I figured a few more bags wouldn’t hurt. I don’t 100% remember exactly what happened but I ended up telling him to call me in six months when he got his shit together. When someone says that to you, you never really expect them to take you seriously.

Fast forward to February at which time I got an email titled “Six Months.” Dude…totally unnecessary. You could’ve just let it all lie, no need to bring up the past, I figured you’d moved on anyway. Boat Boy explained that he said he’d get in touch in six months and so here he was…getting in touch. He also explained that he and the ex had since reconciled and were back together very happy and all this other stuff that made me want to vomit on myself. Boat Boy hoped all was well with me and hoped he’d see me at the cousins wedding in June. GUESS WHO WASN’T INVITED TO THE WEDDING?!?!?! THIS GIRL!!!! Ha. I guess they were assuming that ex-finance-now-girlfriend-again would’ve flipped her shit and made a scene with my presence so I was crossed off the list. Cold. I’m family damnit.

My dad was up at the lake this past week and I told him to get the scoop for me.  Not that I even want to date Boat Boy, I’m just curious ya know? Dad was nice enough to inform me (and I quote), “NH news Boat Boy wedding next Sat. Still time to homewreck. xoxo” WHAT?! HE’S GETTING FUCKING MARRIED?! They just freaking broke up and got back together!!!! Shotgun wedding anyone?!?!?! But I mean what do I know about relationships and making things work…I’m still single. I do love how my dad put in the “still time to homewreck” plug. He clearly has faith that I could easily bring it down in flames…thanks for the support Dad…love you!

And so Boat Boy…congratulations. I am just SO happy for you. I say all of this with the utmost sarcasm because we all know in my head I’m thinking:

What I’ve learned in New Rochelle…

I’ve learned many things since I’ve come to New York. Some useful. Some totally NOT. Some appropriate for the internet and some I’ll definitely be keeping to myself. Some are sappy and others are funny. Here goes:

-Driving to New Jersey because gas is cheaper does NOT save you money…mainly because the toll over the George Washington Bridge is $13 ONE WAY!!!!! IT’S NOT WELL MARKED!
-How to use the mass transit system — I DID IT! By myself too! Woohoo!!!
-How to eat like a caveman (I’ll explain later…)
-Grad school is NOT undergrad. I cannot drink like I used to.
-Procrastination WORKS.
-As a blonde haired, blue eyed white girl, I stick out like a SORE THUMB and I’ve got to straight up embrace it.
-Along with whatever you need for building materials or supplies, you can also buy manual labor at Home Depot (found in the parking lot).
-There is no high speed/passing lane on the highway. Everyone just drives in whatever lane they want, however the fuck they feel like it.
-No one knows how to park and there’s a good chance you will go outside one day to see your bumped dangling by a thread…
-Summer in the city is possibly the worst, most uncomfortable situation anyone could ever ask to be in.
-Lastly, I have learned to trust the process. As a budding art therapist, we’re constantly being told to “trust the process” which means to trust that as a client works on a piece of art, whatever issues need to surface, will. I have learned this is true for whatever process, not just art therapy. By moving down here, I’ve had to trust I made the right decision and in nine months I will have something to show for it and that any bumps were meant to be driven over. Same can goes for any process in life…sappy but oh so true.

Yeehaw: Back on the wagon

Well it’s been about at least a year since this disaster. What a total bitch that was huh? Heartbroken, jobless (well no that’s incorrect since I had three awesome kids to look out for…), and about to embark on a new career completely ALONE. Sometimes I felt a lot like this:

Things have improved in many aspects. I have a lovely little attic apartment which I’ve dubbed “The Hobbit Hole.” Don’t worry, I haven’t sprouted hair on my feet yet. Although my landlords don’t speak a lick of English (Italian peppered with English…), I don’t really have a lease, and I pay in cash every month; it’s ten million times better than living in the dorms. What a pain in the ass that was.

I’ve got nine months until I finish my Art Therapy degree. I will be moving out of New York the hour after I graduate. I’d say minute but I’ve got a lot of shit to pack so that’s not realistic. I’m shooting for Boston, I can’t go back to Maine quite yet. Plus, at then 29 years old, WHY NOT MOVE BACK IN WITH MY PARENTS?! And by parents I mean Dad because he won’t make me pay rent. OH SNAP.

Let’s see, what else is new? Still dudeless. But that’s ok because I still get drunk at the bar and make out with random people every once in awhile. Some things never change. I’m still working as a nanny for the freaking cutest two year old ever. He’s almost three, it’s been a whole YEAR.

One year since I moved to New York. Like wow. What a ride. I’ve learned so much. Some of it is extremely inappropriate to voice anywhere but in my head, but I think that’ll be my next post…what I learned from living in New Rochelle, New York. I look forward to it. It’s been too long and it feels good to be back in the sarcastic writing game.

Excuse me, are you married?

It’s been forever. I know. Excuses and apologizes later. For now, let’s just get on to my latest awkward moment.

On Sunday I was in Home Depot begging the customer service rep at the power saw to cut my pegboard for me. “We don’t cut diagonal.” Oh well excuse me asswipe, last time I checked it’s not that hard. I ended up in the “molding” section…you know where you buy the wood/fake wood that you put around the baseboard/ceiling/doors etc? Turns out they have a saw at the end of the aisle…but it’s a handsaw and that didn’t end well for me at home. I was digging through the scrap bin when I heard someone say hello. I looked up just to see who they were talking to and when I realized I was the only other person in the aisle, said hello back to the random dude in the aisle.

I went back to digging through the pile and debating sawing the stupid pegboard myself when the guy said, “Um excuse me…are you married?” I’m sorry…what? We’re in Home Depot dude. I haven’t showered in like two days. I’m up to my elbows in scrap wood and you’re asking me if I’m married? Fuck no I’m not married.

I laughed nervously and said “Uhh…haha…no I’m not married.” STUPID IDIOT. I SHOULD’VE SAID YES! I SHOULD’VE SAID WHY YES ACTUALLY I AM IN ONE OF THOSE CULTS THAT HAS LIKE 50 HUSBANDS! But no. I said, “No.” He introduced himself as Junior and we chatted a bit about how I was in school and from Maine. He explained that he takes care of a mentally handicapped individual for a living and great up in New Rochelle. I asked what he was making and he explained that it’s “Kite Week” in Japan or China or “one of those places.” I pretended to care and said, “Ohhh that’s nice, are you making it with the person you take care of?” He said, “No, I’m making it with my girl, a last ditch effort to save our relationship.”

Oh phew ok so I’m just being totally conceited and he’s not hitting on me. Plus Junior is chivalrous enough to saw my pegboard for me. BONUS! I’m a happy little clam…I’ve got my board, it was cut for free, and I got myself out of an awkward moment. I thanked Junior and started to leave. He stopped me and said, “Hey, let me get your number…I’d like to get together with you sometime. Just lunch or something though because I have a girlfriend.” Fuck. “Haha…uhh…no that’s ok, you have a girlfriend, maybe I’ll see you around sometime!” “No. No, that won’t happen. Let me get your number and I’ll call you so you have mine.” FUCKING BALLS.

I couldn’t say no. I was SO uncomfortable. Plus we were in the way back of Home Depot, god know what he would’ve done to me with that saw. Junior has my number. And he left a message. Which I haven’t even listened to. This morning I got the following text:
I didn’t respond. I have absolutely no desire to ever see this guy in my life. I should’ve turned and left the minute “Are you married?” were the first words out of his mouth…

P.S. Auto-correct is borderline useful for a reason Junior…

Verklempt

First of all, if you have no idea of the meaning behind this post’s title, please familiarize yourself with Saturday Night Live:

Now that you understand the meaning behind verklempt, you can understand what I mean when I say that last week’s meeting with the Fireman has left me feeling verklempt. Talk amongst yourselves. (On a totally unrelated note, my Assessments professor has the same accent as Mike Meyers in this skit…I’m waiting for her to tell us to talk amongst ourselves.)

I couldn’t tell you what I wanted to get out of seeing him. Part of me wanted closure. The other part wanted him to beg me to forgive him and then we’d live happily ever after. Ok maybe that’s extreme. But at least tell me his head was back together and that he wanted to see where things could go. What I wasn’t expecting was coming out confused with my head spinning and still not knowing where things stand.

It started off well…drinking beer, catching up, laughing…it was nice. I apologized for being a total bitch over text and he said that wasn’t necessary. I was completely and totally honest with him…I think I surprised him, I know I surprised myself. I told him I really missed him, I was really hurt by what had happened, and that I had tried to forget about him but just couldn’t get him off my mind. I also told him I wanted to see where his head was at. He explained that the whole ordeal with “her” had left him feeling like he wasn’t ready to put himself out there again even though it had affirmed why he had broken things off with her in the first place. I want to smack this bitch. I don’t know what she did to him but clearly it wasn’t very nice. I told him that I understood his not being ready but also said I’d rather see him for a beer once a week or so than not at all. I really dumped it all out there. I was disappointed and we wrapped up the beer fairly quickly after that…clearly way too many feelings out in the open.

Pretty straightforward right? WRONG. He walked to my car with me so I could give him his sweatshirt and we hugged goodbye. And then we kissed. Mother. Fucker. It wasn’t just a peck either…it was like Hollywood called and they want their blow-the-audience-away kiss back. It was raining which just added to the Hollywood-ness of it all. It was one of those kisses that you feel from head to toe. I said, “Fireman…I know you’re scared. I get it. But don’t give up on this. Give it a chance.” We kissed some more and then I drove him over to his car. Where we sat in the parking lot and kissed even more. He told me that he’d be thinking about this…a lot. It’d be on his mind for sure. I told him that his head might not know what was going on but that I thought his heart did. He left and I haven’t heard from him since.

Now I’m getting emotional. I’m a little verklempt. Talk amongst yourselves.

Nothing ventured, nothing gained?

Last night I spoke with one of my very old friends. He’s one of those where we don’t speak for months and then we catch each other and talk for an hour like we’d just spoken the day before. I was telling him about the fireman and how I’d heard from him a few weeks ago but hadn’t heard anything since. I also admitted that maybe I wasn’t exactly nice in my replies to the fireman and perhaps he wasn’t texting because he thought I hated his guts. Untrue. But still.

Anyway…my homeboy encouraged me to text him because if I couldn’t get him out of my head then I might as well see what would happen. I texted him and said “Let me know when you want to grab that beer. I’d love to catch up”. I got a response this morning, “How about tonight? My day is open.” Huh ok well today works.

I’m sitting in the parking lot across from the bar we’re meeting at. I feel like I’m either going to crap my pants or throw up all over myself. It’s 5:58 and we’re meeting at 6. I despise walking into places by myself so I really freaking hope he’s already here.

Here goes nothing. Because after all, nothing ventured, nothing gained. But what if I don’t gain anything?! What if this is THE WORST IDEA EVER?!

I think I just threw up in my mouth a little bit…

I just got back from the grocery store. I know. It’s 11:30 on a Saturday night. I’m a loser. Whatever. The other option was getting drunk and trying to find someone new to add to my list of drunken makeouts. To save some of my dignity I chose the grocery store.

I should have gotten drunk.

The best place to get cheap groceries is ShopRite. It’s right around the corner and they have basically everything. Except for no-bake lasagna noodles. There are too many actual Italians down here…it’d be an insult to carry the easy way out.

ShopRite is a step above Family Dollar. Any store in New Rochelle would be an interesting crowd but add on the cheap food factor and you’ve got a primo weirdo gathering.

I figured it’d be quiet on a Saturday at 11:30. Wrong. They must’ve gotten a shipment or something so you couldn’t drive down ANY of the aisles and people kept almost running me over with carts stacked with boxes. By the time I got to the register I was all sorts of irritated.

There were only 5 registers open. With at least 7 people in line at each of them and an entire months worth of groceries. I get in line and wife in front of me keeps obnoxiously going back to the aisles to get things she forgot. Hey lady, how about a list?! Finally she and her husband leave and it’s my turn.

The cashier is leaning against the side of the register like she just ran a marathon. Yes. It’s 11:30. I’m sure you had a long day. But stop huffing and puffing so you can check me out and we can both leave.

Finally she pulls it together and starts ringing me up. She keeps taking “breathers” and puts her hands on her knees like she’s been running. I’m like WHAT THE FUCK GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER. Then I put two and two together and realize this bitch is PUKING INTO THE TRASH CAN!!!! I almost passed out. She clearly has the flu and she’s been touching my food and now I’m going to get the flu but maybe I won’t because I had the shot but what if it’s a different strain?!?! At this point I’m having a full blown heart attack. I’ve even convinced myself that I already have a fever. I snapped out of my mental doom when the lady behind me called over another cashier to take Barfie’s place. She was even nice enough to remind the new cashier that she needs to wash her hands.

The barfie cashier is leaning against the next register, miserably taking a rest when she pipes up, “I don’t have the flu.”

“Are you sure you don’t have the flu?! Are you positive?!” I asked. “I don’t have the flu. I’m pregnant.” she says.

Per usual I can’t keep my mouth shut and I shout, “Oh thank god! I’m so glad you don’t have the flu! Uh…oh and congratulations! That’s great!” I’m gonna go ahead and guess it’s not exactly an exciting event…she did not look pleased. And naturally I managed to put my foot in my mouth.

I’m still glad she didn’t have the flu. And of course I went home and wiped EVERYTHING down with disinfectant wipes. Just in case.

A Christmas Clusterf**k

Christmas has gone from one of my favorite holidays to one of the absolute worst. The divorce has really put a damper on things. I’d like to say I made the best of it but it’s still all fucked up. For the 24th, 25th, and 26th, I felt like Chevy Chase in Christmas Vacation.

On Christmas Eve, my brother (came home for Christmas!), my dad, and I went to my grandparents house. I had made one disaster of a pot roast (don’t ever overfill the crockpot. Less is more.) but overall it was fairly stress free. As long as you don’t count my grandmother insisting I had left my Lady Grace nightgown at her house. I don’t own any nightgowns, let alone from Lady Grace, and I own next to NOTHING in a LARGE. Unless you count the few kid’s larges I own…but absolutely nothing in a regular sized person’s large. After trying to convince her that it most certainly was not my nightgown, I am not the proud owner of this…in Purity Blue:
Sexy huh? My dad and brother found it hysterical. I’ve been hiding it around my dad’s apartment since I got it and now it’s showing up in my stuff. IT’S NOT MINE. 

On Christmas Day, my brother and I went to Mom’s for the morning to open gifts. Don’t worry, her new boyfriend was there. It was awesomely awkward. Especially because I can’t hide my feelings whatsoever and am not sure whether or not I was overly nice. He’s a bit odd. Ok let’s be honest…I despise the whole thing. It’s a little soon don’t you think? I mean our bizarre family parties are one thing, but Christmas? C’mon Mom.

We headed to my aunt’s house for dinner after the morning awkwardness. Since the divorce, my dad has been making a list of the silver linings. I’m glad he’s being positive…I’m also glad he shares because he’s freaking hilarious. Never seeing mom’s family again is on the list…as is never having to eat there again. I don’t think the food is that bad…but he does. The highlight of the night was when my brother caught my uncle picking his nose on camera. He was at least two knuckles deep. Gross.

After the debacle that was Christmas, I got back to my dad’s and couldn’t find parking. I was so pissed off I called my friend and we decided to hit our local Chinese watering hole and get drunk. It was an excellent night after a couple of pina coladas. I also met an adorable Army guy. Thank you Santa!

The day after Christmas we (my mom, my brother, and I) headed to Maine to spend the night at my uncle’s lake house. My two uncles currently aren’t speaking and therefore can’t be in the same room as each other so we had to have yet a THIRD Christmas. I was excited to go to Maine, see some actual snow, and see my uncle, aunt, and cousins. It was going great until my mom started treating me like a 16-year-old. She wanted to go for a walk. Ok first? It’s fucking cold out. Second? I’m hungover as shit. Third? I just want to hang…can’t I just relax? I just spent the past two weeks high as a kite on coffee and adderall to get through finals…lay off me. Instead of taking my “no thanks” and saying, “ohh ok that’s fine!” She made the cat sound that people make when they’re implying that you’re being bitchy and crabby. Rrrreeowww!!!! OH NO YOU DIDN’T. The fastest way to piss me off is to continue to push my buttons when I’m already riled up. The “cat sound” pushes all of them. Needless to say the rest of the trip wasn’t pleasant between my mood and the snowstorm that my brother nearly drove us off the road in.

MERRY FUCKING CHRISTMAS!

Been there, done that.

I finally wrote back to the Fireman. I was classy about it and refrained from telling him exactly how pissed I was about the whole situation. I had let him borrow one of my books and I stressed in the email that I better get it back or I’d rip his balls off. No, kidding, kidding.  But I did stress the importance of getting it back. I even offered for him to mail it to me. I heard back from him tonight and he said “I’ll definitely get the book back to you. After the holiday do you want to meet up for a drink?”

Whoa.

Are you on crack? Are you trying to seriously mess with me? Because sure, I’ll go for a drink (you better be paying…because I’m getting a Cosmo with top shelf vodka) and if you’re lucky I won’t try to hit you with my car. I should have just told him to mail it. And then donated his sweatshirt that I have to Goodwill. But no…I said, “Yeah sure, let me know.”

Am I mentally challenged? Have I not been through the “Fool me once…” bullshit already? I figure I’ll get my book, drink some legit vodka, tell him exactly where to shove it, and be done. A lot of you are out there shaking your head knowing that I’ll most likely give him another chance if he asked for one. I’d love to say you’re wrong but…well you might be wrong. IT’S JUST ALL SO CONFUSING DAMNIT!

Derailed

Well holy shit it’s December. Happy fucking Holidays.

I know. Worst blogger ever right? At least it’s only a couple of months…as opposed to years in which case I don’t think anyone would be reading this. And don’t worry I’ll back-post to fill you in on all the crazy shit that’s happened.

First of all…how’s school? Amazing. Still totally loving the program and enjoying myself. I moved out of the godforsaken dorms. I now live in a crazy Italian woman’s attic. It’s like a hobbit hole in the sky. I have my own kitchen, my own bathroom, and a brand new giant bed. Paradise.

School work has been a bitch though. Thanks to my good friend Sandy, all our shit has been condensed into a totally crunched two-three week period. It’s been so strange…we don’t have TESTS. Instead we write papers. SO MANY PAPERS. And all of it has to be in APA style. Which is more confusing than Monopoly. Do not put a period there, do not use contractions, do not pass go, do not collect $200. GO TO JAIL. FAIL. So yeah…it’s been intense. Heading down the home stretch though and not taking classes over the winter term. Although I will be living in New York because I can’t leave the family I nanny for very long. Financially and also because they’ve become a second family and my little man (he’s two) is the cutest thing ever.

As you know, I’ve been dating seeing hanging out with the Fireman. Things had been going really awesome. Until he stopped calling. Completely out of the blue. Like I hadn’t even gotten a chance to put my crazy pants on and freak out and he stopped calling. C’mon. At least let me go nuts on you so I can feel like I actually know what I did wrong. I got an email from him last night…turns out it’s not me it’s him. No but seriously, it really is him. I guess his ex-girlfriend (dumb ho) called him…she hasn’t been feeling well and they’ve been testing her for cancer. Shitty yes. But I was under the impression that she was out of the picture, they broke up two years ago, and she wasn’t even that nice. I get it. You’re scared, you need to reach out to the people that know you well. Ok. Super. (What about your current boyfriend?!) But it “brought up a lot of feelings and memories” for him and he feels like he’s not in a place where he can mentally give me what I need. Good. Great. Grand. I’m sorry she’s sick, I’m sorry you’re confused, but maybe I should have put my crazy pants on and freaked out on you a few weeks ago so this situation wouldn’t suck so bad for me. Nahhh…I’m too classy for that so I’ll say “Thanks for being honest, enjoy the rest of your life.” and move on. The good news is I didn’t really want to get him a Christmas present anyway.

Now what? First, I’m going to finish my papers. Then I’m going to get through Christmas. And during all of that I’m going to continue to remind myself why I came to New York in the first place. FOR ME. Screw dudes. Screw exes. Screw all the bullshit. I let myself get distracted and derailed from the goal. It’s time to get my selfish pants back on and give the rest of the world the finger.

Much love…I’ve missed writing and obviously you missed my trainwreck that is a life.