One tequila (two tequila, three tequila, floor)

I am allowing myself ONE (HA, okay) margarita tonight because the weather is amazing and the peer pressure is tangible.

ONE margarita. I will not slip. I will not fall. I will have one and only one.

Stay tuned.

Funnies Friday

And one of my all time favorites

Funnies Friday

I have nothing to say so today is the inaugural Funnies Friday! (!!!!) Chris sent me the comic below and it reminded me of our relationship.

Happy Friday!

Use it and Lose it.

I spent the winter months eating and drinking everything within reach of my shivering body. As a result, my weight skyrocketed. Ok, I gained like 7 lbs. But now that I'm preparing to live somewhere warm and beachy, I've begun taking the necessary steps to lose the lard. The whole no-drinking-for-a-month thing has already shown results. My stomach is flatter, I have more energy, I'm eating less.

Another thing I'm doing is using this iphone (and possibly other smartphones) app called Loseit.

It's like a food diary but much more effective. You input your current weight and goal weight and it gives you a daily calorie limit. Then you input the food you eat at each meal and it adds up the calories. You also input the exercise (or, if you're like me, the 5 min walking to and from the subway) you've done that day.

So say you, like I did yesterday, eat a Five Guys cheeseburger and fries for lunch. Okay, approximately 900 calories spent, so I knew I would have to walk back and forth from the subway for 7 hours or eat a small dinner (ie. a pudding cup). It seems simple but for someone who is visual like me, (and someone who thinks all of this looks delicious) seeing it all plotted out is immensely helpful.

You can also follow your friends' weight loss progress. Fear not, they don't tell you anyone else's weight. It's another way to stay motivated and on track.

The app is free at the app store.

Have you seen me?

Have you seen this woman? After two weeks of unanswered texts, e-mails, phone calls and gchats, I have grown slightly concerned. Typically this would not be cause for alarm as she disapears more than an agoraphobic cicada. But since she's part of the whole move-across-the-country plan, it's become an issue.

So, without Jill in the mix, perhaps Chris and I should just move to Costa Rica for an undetermined amount of time? Universal healthcare, beautiful beaches, friendly people, and we could live like (thrifty) kings for a year on the money we have saved up. Also, I wouldn't have to share a country with these idiots*:


*if this offends you, stop reading my blog immediately.

It's something to consider. But I'm getting ahead of myself. If anyone sees the human pictured up top stumbling around south Philadelphia, please instruct her to contact myself or Christopher asap. Our future plans depend on it.

And if anyone sees Rico, the blowup doll pictured up top, please tell him he's been replaced.

Notes from the Universe

I'm not big on new-agey, self-improvement, unicorns & rainbow dust, harness-your-spirit types of things. But a few months ago a hyper-optimistic coworker recommended I sign up for a daily e-mail called "A Note from the Universe." They are described on the website as "Spiritual but not religious, inspirational without commitment, empowering yet caffeine-free!" They're big on exclamation points.

So on the off chance that one of these messages will have a slight impact on your life, dear reader, I'm sharing the wealth. Check below for daily nuggets that are at times trite or odd and at other times inspiring.

So you wanna be a comedy writer?

I'd like to talk for a minute about dreams. Not the kind I've had lately involving Jill being pregnant with a midget child. No, the kind of dreams you have when you're awake.

Since I can remember, I've used humor as a way to cope, to make friends, to flirt, just to get through life. It's second nature to me. I like to make people laugh. It makes me happy. Others enjoy cooking, or gardening, or public speaking. I just like to be funny.

That brings me to my current job. Yes, I make good money. But it bores the bejesus out of me. It used to be extremely stressful. After working a 12 hour day I would go home and cry sometimes out of frustration and anger. More often I'd just drink. It's gotten a lot better now that I'm writing for a new brand. I go home at 5. My boss is great. But I'm still just bored.

In January, I decided this was going to be the year that I stopped going through the motions of my career. I decided I needed to leave New York City. I was exhausted from the hectic mentality of working in the Big Apple. And I decided I needed to figure out what I wanted to do with my life, because pharma copy writing certainly wasn't it. I read a book called "What Color is Your Parachute", which despite the Jesus undertones helped me hone in on what I (potentially) wanted to do with my life.

That brings me to comedy writing. I like writing. I like comedy. So I figured maybe, just maybe I should try it. I took a comedy writing class and I loved it. But, I found it extremely hard to be creative after writing about disease states all day. So I'm going to go out to California, jobless and just write and write and write until my wrists weep. And if some of it's funny, I'll use the connections that my teacher gave us to submit jokes to the crappy late night tv shows. Maybe something will happen, maybe I'll fail. It's just a dream.

But when some people find out I want to be a comedy writer, the reaction is often immediate judement. They want me to tell them a joke or perform a skit or make them laugh in some way.

It's as if in their mind they're thinking "Oh you think you're that funny huh? Prove it"


First of all, if I told you I was an aspiring chef, you wouldn't direct me to the kitchen and have me whip up an amouse-bouche. It's called aspiring for a reason. I'm not there yet. Second of all, the only thing that differentiates an aspiring comedy writer from the other funny people in the world is trying and continuing to try despite failure. I'm sure I could be a damn good chef if I really tried. But that's someone elses dream.

Achieving your dreams is 10% innate ability and 90% perseverance. So no, I won't tell you a joke on demand. I won't be your monkey (sober). I'll be laying in bed, brainstorming sketches. And I'll call you when I sell my first joke to George Lopez.*

*who is truly the worst. ever.

Now that's country

This video was made about the county that Chris is from...Now you'll see what I mean when I say I went to the "country". All footage is real.

I'm too cool for skates

I'm a rollablada!

So long for now old friend: UPDATE

It's been a week since I woke up hungover and bloated and decided to make a change. No beer for a month. The first week was hard. There was free beers at work, farewell happy hours, and my ever compulsive need to drink when it's warm out. But I resisted. And by the time the weekend rolled around, it was like second nature to just say no. My brain began to form negative associations with beer:

Beer = extra calories = fat = unflattering beachwear

Now I can't say that I've been completely alcohol free. I did have a glass of red wine (which I hate) at dinner. And a half a cup of cranberry vodka on Saturday night. But other than that, I've been a walking Prohibition. And I'm already feeling the effects. On Sunday I woke up hangover-free for the first time in months. I feel less bloated, less sluggish, my liver and I are on speaking terms again, I know where all my credit cards are, my room is clean. It's great. I have a feeling that this week won't be hard either. It's supposed to be cold and rainy: the kind of weather that even my intense alcohol cravings could never compete with. As soon as I leave work I want to be immediately in bed, dry and warm, and eating my weight in Mexican food.

Chris has also been doing well. I was more of an 8-beers-at-happy-hour type whereas he was the type to have a beer with every meal. I'd imagine it's even tougher for him. But so far, so good.
Let's just hope we don't lose so much weight that we get a Buddy Love situation.**


**Neither of us are anywhere morbid obesity nor do we (hopefully) have the potential to become spandex jumpsuited douchebags , however this was the only analogy that my Monday-addled brain could come up with. But seriously, how ridiculous were 90s movies? I've seen this terrible movie a minimum of 20 times. I bet Eddie is so mad the 90s are over.

4/23 Weekend Recap

I thought I'd update you on the happenings of this weekend so you can feel better about how exciting your life is. Let's start from the top.

I told my boss (who is awesome) that I'd be working from home on Friday. So, Thursday night I took the bus in to Philly. Chris picked me up and we set off for his parents' house in the country.

We arrived late, and immediately passed out. I arose the next morning, ready to tackle the work day. I booted up my computer while these (barely) functional alcoholics chattered in the background about frozen wine:

(If you've never watched, take a sick day tomorrow. You won't regret it)

I connected to his parents' wifi and seconds later my computer responded with this:

A virus that opened inappropriate websites and prompted me to purchase anti-virus software? Not good, especially considering it was my work laptop. So, that was the end of work for the day. I checked e-mail every few hours on my phone but there was nothing pressing.

I spent the rest of the day bonding with the local wildlife:


And avoiding this:

(successfully!)

Chris spent the day building things

He was really in his element. He even took pictures of the finished products and kept scrolling through them adoringly throughout the weekend. At one point, he asked if I wanted to help. We shared a good laugh over that.

As we were getting ready to leave on Saturday night, a neighborhood boy dropped by selling his wares:

GAHHHH! AMISH! Ever since college, I have been terrified of the Amish. They would come to my door selling baked goods and I would hide in the bathroom. (This is where I went to school and met Chris). It's just so jarring to see people who are a part of the world, yet so unchanged by it. But despite the abject terror they inspire in me, I do admire them. To be able to maintain their way of life for so long, without bowing to the influences of modern technology and internet porn. It's truly remarkable. But they still make me uncomfortable. So, I took a deep breath, faced my fears and purchased an oatmeal cream pie. He was polite and smart and it was delicious.

After my heroism, we headed back to Philadelphia so Chris could attend the rollerskating party. I'd considered attending but Jen backed out so I just couldn't do it.

I'll leave it up to him to describe the party but clearly he felt no shame:


The rest of the weekend we spent hanging out with friends and sleeping until it was time for me to return home to this:


All in all a restful, completely unproductive weekend. Just the way I like em. Only one week left in April then the 3 month countdown begins!

And we're back

It's been a nice long, relaxing (and beerless!) weekend and now I'm back in the cold, rainy city. I'm thoroughly exhausted so stay tuned for updates tomorrow, 2 readers!

What's the hardest part about learning to rollerskate?

Coming out to your parents.

That's my favorite joke of all time**. So when Chris told me he would be attending a rollerskating party, it took everything in my power not to tell him that joke.

Just kidding, of course I told him the joke, repeatedly. And made every possible gay reference in the hours (days) that followed. There is nothing heterosexual about rollerskating. And there is nothing attractive about watching a large, adult man fumbling around a rink in bright white skates. So I of course refused to go. I like macho, beer swilling, football playing, testosterone fueled men. Seeing such a gay*** display would be an instant deal breaker. Forget California. Forget everything we've been through. That would be the end.

But now I'm reconsidering. I mentioned the party to my friend Jen and she's really, ridiculously giddy about it. She even asked if she could couple's skate with Chris. I'm pretty sure she wasn't kidding.

So, I mean, as horrific as the image of him prancing around on wheels could and will be...maybe I should lighten up and just let him channel his inner queen. Every man has one. And the fact that he's willing to do this for a friend...well, that just tells you what a good friend he is. And I'm sure he'll be a sassy little minx on wheels. You get em, gurl!

But mark my words, my month break from alcohol will end the minute I step into that rink.

**it's actually "What's the hardest part about learning to rollerblade" which is just as gay, possibly more so b/c it is done in public by "straight" men
*** gay not meant in a derogatory frat boy way, but in a fabulous glittery, sequined, rainbowed homosexual way. gays are my life, but I'd rather not date them.

Life in slow-motion

Augusten Burroughs (author of Running with Scissors) answered New York Magazine's 21 questions and this answer really stuck with me:

What makes someone a New Yorker?
If you visit the country and find you cannot sleep because the silence you have heard so much about is actually just a shifting of all auditory awareness to the circulatory system in your head area, and in the morning when you are fatigued and raw, you realize that yes, you would trade the life of your sibling for a ten-minute fix of midtown traffic, you are a New Yorker.'

I realized that this used to be me. I wanted the fast paced, live fast/die young, work hard play hard, bright lights, big city, running on empty, 24/7 thrill ride.

And then I got burnt out.

And now, as I get ready to leave for my boyfriend's parents' house in the country, a sense of calm comes over me. I look forward to pressing the slow motion button and taking in the the smells and sounds of nature. I find more and more that when I leave NYC for the country, I don't want to come back. I'm relaxed, my brain moves slower, my muscles aren't tense, I feel like I'm finally in my natural state. Now don't get me wrong, I love NYC. The last 1.5 years has been one of the greatest, most exciting and influential experiences of my life.

But like I said I'm burnt out. I'm ready to relax for a while. To take it slow. I'm ready for California.

Text life

**

Sometimes Chris will text me and say "I miss you." Just because.

Sometimes I'll text him and say "I know what you did. She told me everything." Just because.

That sums up our relationship

He's a romantic. I'm a ball buster. It just works.

Since we live in different cities, and share an active hate of phone conversations, we do a lot of texting. The ridiculousness of the texts increases substantially based on how long I've been at happy hour. I'll be sharing some of these in the future, whether you like it or not. They will help you understand why we want to take this trip together. Or, more likely, why I gave up drinking for a month.

**No one owns this phone

Any day now...

It's a beautiful day in New York City. Luckily, I have a great view:

I've considered this a few (hundred) times


But I just keep telling myself, all this working and saving money will be worth it when we are finally doing this:


The open road, fast food, and a mostly stable couple. What more could we ask for? Well, maybe one of these:

Adventure

I've always considered myself an adventurer.

Growing up in rural Pennsylvania, my brothers and I had no choice but to use our imaginations to keep ourselves entertained when we were young. During our summer breaks from school, our mother would kick us out of the house as soon as we finished our Cheerios and it was up to us to keep ourselves occupied. Three boys, punching the clock to head out into the sweltering summer sun, only to enter the house for lunch and bathroom emergencies (unless you grew up in the country or live in the alley behind my apartment, you might not know what qualifies as an emergency). When I think back to some of the things we got into I am amazed that we all still have all of our limbs. When we weren't in the front lawn working on our batting stances, we were off in the woods nailing boards to the tree tops, setting booby-traps, and learning about the "potential" dangers of gasoline. On the days that the three of us were able to make it out of the house without picking a fight, we could have had more than a dozen adventures under our belts before our mother rang the lunch bell. Adventures? I've had a few.

This one is going to be much different...hopefully with limbs intact.

-Chris

Quiero estar en Costa Rica

Unless Chris gets the job he's currently applying for, we are planning to live in Costa Rica for a few weeks in August. I've always wanted to go there. I've heard the country is beautiful, the people are friendly and you can eat well for 2 bucks a day. Chris found a program in Puerto Jiminez, a quiet beach town, where we can volunteer in a local garden and the adjoining gift shop. We'd have access to a a swimming beach, free housing and a nearby jungle. I love animals and thus was thrilled to read we'd see various types of monkeys, ant-eaters, tropical birds, sloths, weasels and possibly even jaguars. The one animal that I was not excited to see on the list (and even less excited to see pictured on the website) was the giant cockroach. The adventure almost ended before it even began when I scrolled down and saw that horrifying image. But, this is a new year and a new me. I must face my fears and embrace all the wonderful and terrifying aspects that come with an adventure. But if one of those EVER touches me, I can not be held responsible for my actions.





Giant cockroach unpictured. You're welcome.

So long for now old friend

When I was in my early 20's I could eat Doritos for breakfast, drink an entire case of beer in a day and finish the night with a medium Domino's pepperoni pizza and never gain weight or get hungover. I didn't exercise. I didn't watch my weight. I had the metabolism of a rabid chipmunk.

Alas, it has caught up to me. After a night of drinking, I now pound a bottle of water and a couple Advil in a desperate attempt to stave off a hangover. And that midnight "snack" of 2 slices of pizza seems to immediately deposit itself on my hips.

As the trip to California (and the bikini weather that comes with it) gets closer and my weight continues to increase, I've finally accepted that I am no longer 22. It's time to change my eating/drinking habits.

So, as of today I am giving up beer for a month. Beer, my 6th food group. My refuge after a hard day of work. My go-to beverage on a warm spring afternoon. It won't be easy, but being able to wear a two-piece in LA without frightening small sea creatures will make it all worth it.



But I didn't say anything about vodka.

Meet Jill

Every sitcom has the crazy aunt or the rapping cousin or the sassy nephew that they introduce to keep things interesting. Also known as the "Wild card" This is Jill. She's a hard-drinking, loud-talking, poster child of inappropriateness. She'll often wake up in the wee hours of the morning and begin drinking. We'll later find her at the corner bar pounding shots of Southern Comfort. Alone. She is at times frightening, but always hilarious. And while an intervention is imminent, she is generous and loyal to a fault.

She is also planning to move to California with us. Talk about a wild card. She frequently disappears, and for the first couple years of our friendship did not have a functioning cell phone. She is also extremely shady about her whereabouts. Oh, and lives with two cats who she found wandering the streets. The cats were such terrors that she would eat meals locked in her bathroom to avoid them clawing the food from her hands. They've since calmed down, allegedly. So there's a chance she won't show. There's a chance she won't be allowed on the plane. And there's a chance she'll be eaten by her cats. But barring these circumstances, this ball of ridiculousness will be accompanying us on our grand adventure to the West. I'm not a religious woman but it might be time to start praying.

PhD: Playa hatin' degree

"I feel summer creepin' in and I'm
Tired of this town again" - Tom Petty

Some of my close friends, and some not so close acquaintances have questioned my decision to uproot my life and move across the country. I have friends here, a good (albeit at times excruciating) job, and my family is based here. I'm an east coast girl through and through. People who haven't even been to California tell me how fake it is there, how bad the traffic is, how hard it will be to find a job yadda yadda blah blah. And I begin to wonder, why the discouragement? I understand it from my close friends. I'm awesome and they want me to be near them. I'm also extremely humble.

But when I casually mention it to strangers at the bar or coworkers it seems like some of them will try to do anything to convince me not to do it. Seriously? Why all the hatin'? If someone wants to take an adventure, let them. Just because you have preconceived notions about a place doesn't mean you should impose them on another person. I know so many people who took a chance and moved to New York City with only their savings. Not one of them regrets it. And besides, Debbie Downers, it's not like I'm planning to go skydiving into an erupting volcano. I'm moving. It happens. People do it. If it doesn't work out, I come home, get a job, and go about my life. So please, don't trample my dreams, and I won't trample yours.

We're all gonna die in 2012 anyway.

XOXO

Meet Brutus

Brutus is a ten year old chihuahua mix. Despite evidence to the contrary, Zina insists he is gay and dresses him in rainbow sweaters and feathery boas. He is hoping to use this move as a chance to finally escape.

Brutus loves people and himself but is not a fan of other dogs. He hates how cold the east coast is and often longs for his hometown of Tijuana, Mexico. However, he'll settle for California.

Brutus is the cutest dog you'll ever meet. He knows it. You know it. Let's never forget it.

Meet Zina

Zina is a VERY young 26 and will never let Chris forget how much older he is. She is NJ born and raised, sassy and sarcastic. But she also has a sensitive side. (And she'll do everything in her power to prevent you from seeing it). She loves small dogs, gay men and margaritas. You could say she's a hag's hag.

Zina has wanted to move to California since she could crawl. And she's beyond excited that it's finally coming to fruition. Despite considering herself an interesting person, Zina works as a pharmaceutical copy writer for an ad agency. It's as exciting as it doesn't sound. However she is hoping to pursue her dream of being a comedy writer once she gets to California. Or her dream of being retired. Hint, hint Chris.

Meet Chris

Chris is 29 years old, country bred, big-hearted, and generous. Chris is obsessed with dogs, loves a good beer and is constantly trying to get Zina to throw a football with him. You could say he's a man's man. But he also has a sensitive side. We won't get into that.

Chris wasn't always on board for this adventure but he loves Zina and thus eventually came around. (Plus, she was going to go either way). Now he couldn't be more excited. Chris currently works as a logistics coordinator (I don't know what it means either) and public school tutor in Philadelphia. He has worked two jobs all his life and is looking for a change of pace. Hopefully some west coast livin' will do the trick.