bitter, jealous girlfriend part 3288723

Let me just preface this and get it out of the way so I can move on: I've been on Livejournal for 8 years now (ridiculous) and time has come to do the big girl thing and stop relying on body-modification and snarking communities to get me through mornings at work. I have thusly turned to a new blog: a fresh start with snark of my very own (as well as a sarcastic glimpse into mi vida where sometimes I use applicable Spanish terms for no reason at all). Format of such is as follows (pick your poison because you're getting different shit on different days as to not bore you with motonous entries of "ZOMFG MAI BOYFREN RUELZ")...

Re-cap in yo ass Sundays: Check out my drunken debauchery. Maybe pictures if you're lucky.
Music Mondays: What I've been listening to and why you should listen too because my opinion really matters.
Ticky Tacky Tuesdays: Television. Includes Gordon Ramsey, Weeds, the Mets and porn.
Wacky (Wyatt's) Wednesdays: Whatever and ever amen.
How Come Nothing Rhymes With Thursdays: Pondering some existentialist mumbo jumbo... yeah.
Snark-Filled Fridays: Elaborating on things that bother me (and WHY they do).
Shit-Faced Saturdays: A (wo)man, a plan, a bar and a drink.

Let us begin.



1) I am a jealous, bitter girlfriend. Sadly my boyfriend isn't. (I suppose it's a good thing - the last one was jealous and it was very bad news bears.) Last night was his show at the Mezzanote and, lo and behold, his "ex bff" or something-of-the-sort-i-really-have-no-idea-he-won't-divulge was there. PLAYING. He left that out for posterity's sake, apparently, because he probably knew I wouldn't go if she was playing. So as she's shmoozing with him and calling him "babe" and generally making me feel like a complete twat (thanks Gordon Ramsey for reclaiming that word), Brady walks in. And hello? I? Can play the shmooz game too. But it didn't work, he wasn't jealous, blah blah blah I am a jealous, bitter girlfriend. (And yes, I apoligized for being such a twat later).

2) I love 10am on Fridays. That's when the HR lady comes and DELIVERS me my check. And it makes a week of bowing down to los residentes and "my boss Peter" so completely worth it. But I've got to say: it's like a giant slap in the face when you realize that you've been working for almost a year (and now in three different departments, TYVM) and your roommate (that you recommended and they just hired) is going to be making more than you straight out the bat. D=, I say, D=.

3) Tanning beds suck. I'm burnt and itchy and I keep leaving fingerprints on my chest (...I like to poke my chest). At this point I wonder why I do this to myself, but then the lightbulb goes off and I realize that I am either A) a masochist or B) like to pretend I am the mailman's baby. Truth be told, my father gets darker than me in the summer - must be all those "crazy Polish genes" - so it's not B. By reason of deduction, I am therefore a masochist.

4) I had a (decidedly) crazy dream last night - not that I remember any of it at all. At one point, I woke up laughing and Joe was really freaked out. Then I fell back asleep... AND WOKE UP TO ME SLAPPING HIM. I do somewhat recall fighting with some girl in my dream (in fact, I think it was the girl from Subway, which means I should really stop going there for lunch all the time) but I've never done things like this in my sleep. Although sometimes I talk. And make strange noises. My theory is this: It was the combination of 7&7s, my jealousy and bitterness of "chick" mentioned in #1, and the crazy redonkulous flood lights that shine DIRECTLY INTO JOE'S WINDOW from the construction on 81.

5) It is currently 62 degrees and rainy in Syracuse and I am wearing a sweater. The fact that tomorrow is the official start of summer AND I AM WEARING AN ANGORA SWEATER is lost on Mother Nature. The plants and ozone and all that environmental crap must be staging a coup (M. Night Shayamalamalan - care to shed some light?).