Tag Archives: weekend

The Bubble

Did anyone see 30 rock this week?  I absolutely love that program–The Office was really the only television show I was into, and then I realised that not watching Tina Fey’s program when I have an EPIC girl crush on Tina Fey was just odd.   The point is, YOU SHOULD WATCH IT! (Or at least tivo it with sincere intentions.)

I digress.  In this episode Tina (or Liz as I believe she is called on the show) was dating this doctor who thought he was a magnificent cook, a fabulous tennis player, blah blah bnlah blah…well it came to light that he actually sucked at everything.  Everyone was just being nice to him because he’s a sexy docta!

As of late I have been having a bit of an identity crisis and this episode made me wonder if I, too, have been living in a bubble.

This started last weekend.  I had to spend time with Lover’s awful sister.  His whole family is lacking in coolness if you ask me (and just in case you DO read this my dear, please remember that loving someone does not mean loving their family! :) ) but homegirl takes the fucking cake.  She tells these exasperatingly long stories and really just rubs me the wrong way.  Generally, I make a lot of effort to avoid people that don’t please me…but this is one thing I could not get out of.

Every time I said something, it was like she had this whole story about why what I said was wrong, or how I should rethink what I said.  I mean, honestly?  I know I have a big mouth.  I know that may be bothersome at times…but I’m over it.  We all have our idiosyncrasies, and it is what it is.  Why the hell does she even care what I like?   I don’t expect anyone else to agree with me or think in the same manner…and even though I might not like certain things, it doesn’t mean I dislike the PEOPLE associated with them. Everyone is different, bitch! Come off it!

She was just so utterly bothersome, but I think I’ve made my point that we just didn’t get on well.

However, she is a bit tricky, because she succeeded in making me think about some of the things that she said to me, almost a week later–and this is why I avoid people who have studied psychology extensively.  I had a lover who also did, and like homegirl, he used his knowledge mostly for EVIL.

So now I’m wondering if I, too, have lived in a bubble which only includes people who love me…and it’s true, I really hate interacting with people whom I have not endeared myself to in one way or another.

Now I feel that many of my perceptions could just be reflections of people telling me what I want to hear!  What a horrific thought!

I think we all have our own bubbles to some extent, but perhaps some people are more insulated, so to speak, than others.

What do you think?  Do you believe in the idea of ‘The Bubble’ confusing your self-concept?  Do you think YOU live in a bubble?

I’d love to know!

x C

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bullets are pretty chill

Reasons why I am happy right now:

  • I am going to ‘n’awlins’ for pardi gras.  With my little bro ! Yes!
  • My bogus cleanse is over and I can once again eat hard food…and drink (ergo:)
  • I am a bit tipsy.
  • The worst day of work EVER is finally over :) :) :)

Things that are cramping my style right now:

  • Consideration of the hangover I’m going to be doomed with tomorrow
  • My concern for America’s economic future
  • The piles of work I have sitting on my desk anxiously awaiting my attention

Thus, blogga-world, I do not believe you will be hearing from me until I return from New Orleans–I will be bringing my laptop, of course, and I’ll have my mobile so perhaps I shall feel motivated to blog…although more likely than not I’ll be intoxicated.  So there’s that.

Also…I just feel inclined to say that I was reading a fellow blogga’s thoughts on blogging recently, and she said something like ‘I am a writer, and not, I want to add emphatically, a diarist.’  Now…I want to emphatically add that I was equally amused and annoyed by this statement.   This could be a reason why I’m not the prom queen of  blogga-world, but in case you couldn’t tell, I am a diarist!  Weblogs are not theses, they are not novels, and I don’t really take them all that seriously–this is mostly due to the fact that I don’t take anything too seriously, but of the things that should be taken seriously in my mind, weblogging isn’t particularly high on the list.  Thus, I put very little thought into what the hell I write on here and just kind of ramble about whatever is on my mind at my time.  I don’t censor myself and I don’t really think about how I might be coming across.  Sometimes this results in me reading things I’ve written and feeling like an arse, but the thing is that I spend most of my life behaving in an appropriate and polite manner and this is sort of my outlet for the thoughts that are not necessarily expressed.  I think this is kind of problematic because I think writing something makes it seem as though the ideas being expressed are well thought out or complete depictions of the issue at hand, and thus a passing thought becomes this statement of what I believe or think–when often it’s just a small slice of my overall view on something that is skewed by a variety of factors, ie. recent events in my life, my mood, my disposition, etcetera. And for the love of god (or whatever) please don’t take anything I say all that seriously. Lord knows I don’t.

That is kind of ramble-y, but hopefully you get the point even though I don’t think I’ve made much sense. I really enjoy the fact that I don’t need to worry about being politically correct, polite, etcetera on here–sure I think it probably leads to me expressing a lot of negativity and shit, but it needs to be expressed my friends! Also–believe it or not–I rarely curse in real life.  Isn’t that strange?  I was thinking about how a lot of people don’t curse in their weblogs, and the thing is that I don’t really curse when speaking–but I do curse when thinking.  Haha.  Doesn’t everyone?

So the things I say on here…I think they should be read as thoughts, as writing for me is more of an expression of thought than it is a means of stating something.

Hah, I think that sounds kind of contradictory and stupid, but it is the best way of conveying what I’m trying to say…

I think I need some sleep!

If I don’t write from nola, peace and love for the next few days! :)

x C

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f my life

Firstly, if you have missed out on the brilliance of this website, then I suggest you check out fmylife.com!  It is quite hilarious, and totally my sense of humour, as there is nothing I find more amusing that the absurdity of everyday life.

Secondly…my apologies for being a delinquent blogga.  I spent the majority of last week paying for my one day of freedom with extreme productivity and also dealt with a bit of an internal conflict regarding the concept of keeping a weblog.  But I’m chillin’ now…so it is all good.

Thirdly, the past week or so has been overflowing with manly misadventures so  I suppose I shall update you on what has gone down!

I made the rainbow cake (which will be a tale for another day) for Mason and he kind of freaked out…he made such a big deal out of it that I didn’t really know what to say or do.  I am generally immune to awkwardness, but I didn’t really think it was a huge deal, and he acted like I’d given him a kidney.  Marley told me this was because I was ‘clearly declaring my love for him, à la Napoleon Dynamite’ (in the film Napoleon’s sidekick with a poor grasp of the English language, Pedro, suggests that in order to ask a girl to a dance, Napoleon “bake her a cake or something”).  This left me feeling like a big dork, a sentiment that was only made worse the day after Mason’s party when my coworker Theresa commented that Mason ‘looked like he was going to cry’ when I gave him the cake.  Not exactly the reaction I was going for.

This strange situation was further compounded by the fact that I had to work Saturday night–I had volunteered to work on Valentine’s Day because I’m not the biggest fan of said cheesefest and especially of the behaviour it tends to induce in Mr. Martini, although I was no more interested in spending the “holiday” with any of the other men in my life right now.  Not to mention, I knew most of my coworkers were in relationships so I thought it would be nice if they could have the night off to recite poetry and listen to Sinatra.  See, I’m not entirely bitter!

However, Mason switched shifts with someone so that we could work together Saturday night…so that ‘my Valentine’s Day wouldn’t completely suck’.  I thought this was very sweet, and was quite excited that we’d be spending the evening together–even if it were to be spent at work.  After the cake incident, though, I was a bit weirded out about this, especially since he has a girlfriend–I imagine they are on the verge of breaking up, but nonetheless, I’m not trying to spend singles awareness day with someone who is not single…

Then there’s Mr. Martini, who spent the weekend here despite my numerous reminders that I would not be available on Saturday, and true to form, planned a super over-the-top date for Friday night.

Unfortunately, one of my very best friends was dumped by her EVIL boyfriend on Thursday.  Yup, you read that correctly.  Her boyfriend of five years broke up with her right before Valentine’s Day.  I cannot tell you how angry this makes me, but I am comforted by the fact that I know karma will come back to bite him in his sorry ass.

So, considering that my friend was feeling a bit psycho-crazy, I thought it best to not leave her alone Friday night…however, I also felt awful cancelling on Mr. Martini.  So, I told him what was up, and because he is so crazy awesome, he said that she could come along.  I also felt like getting her out and about and wined and dined would be good for her morale.  And my dear, sweet, Mr. Martini was so very cool about it and even got roses and chocolate for my friend.  How nice is that?  I was really happy that he was so nice about her crashing because we hadn’t seen each other in a while and I think he was looking forward to some intense romance…but, he was perfectly kind and understanding, he even listened to my friend moan throughout the entire evening and was totally sincerely sympathetic and comforting.  It made me appreciate him so much more, because I know he isn’t particularly fond of this friend and we haven’t been on the best terms, and the fact that he was so sweet about the whole thing was just incredibly endearing.

Blah blah blah, this entry is boring me…

To sum things up, Mason and I had fun making fun of the yucky couples on Valentine’s Day, and my girlfriend joined in, as she chilled at the coffee shoppe all night so she would not be ‘drowning in an ocean of tears’ as she so nonchalantly put it.  Then, the three of us went out and drank massive amounts of tequila and continued to have a number of laughs at the expense of Cupid et al.

However, tequila has long been an enemy of mine, something I conveniently forget all-too-often, and upon approaching Mr. Martini’s hotel, I felt the uncontrollable impulse to tell the cab driver I needed to get out.  It is true, I showed up at my (ex) lover’s hotel room at 2 am on Valentine’s Day, exceptionally intoxicated.  How tragic am I?

Mr. Martini was awake and seemed pleased to see me, although I do believe he was somewhat taken aback by my drunken state as I tend to be on my best behaviour in his presence.  I don’t recall much but I believe I went to sleep straightaway, presumably after confessing my undying love and devotion to him.  The next morning, I awoke quite late and probably looking somewhat reminiscent of roadkill, to an awesome champagne breakfast (I obviously skipped the bubbly) and Mr. Martini smirking at me and inquiring as to when we were going to ‘talk about last night’.  I believe I told him “never”, and left it at that–truthfully, I kind of wish that Mr. Martini had skipped the very sweet gesture of ordering breakfast because I was probably blushing throughout the meal and really, really just wanted to leave.

But it gets better.  I arrived at work yesterday to discover that Mason and my friend had spent the night together, ‘but nothing happened.’  My friend confirmed this supposed innocence, but  it’s kind of the latest turn-off in a string of unappealing actions for Mason–not least of all because I think it highly inappropriate for someone with a girlfriend to be sharing a bed with anyone…and certainly not my best friend who just had her heart broken.  Although he tells me “she said she just didn’t want to be alone” and he “felt bad”, to me this screams of shadiness.  Perhaps I am imagining it though…maybe they’re both just oddballs. In any case, it makes me think to myself, “fuck my life”.

So tonight I must face Mr. Martini…and I am really embarrassed because I unfortunately have very little recollection of the other night.  Boo!

…f my life. :)

I hope everyone out there in blogga-land had a fantastic Valentine’s Day, devoid of drunken debauchery and intoxicated impromptu sonnets!

xx Charlee

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true story, airport style

Yo friends!

I am presently in one of my least favourite places in the Universe, the airport.  Generally, I am crazy late for domestic flights, and board the plane AFTER boarding has ended and they’ve removed the tunnel, via a scolding flight attendant escort.  To be honest, I’m a little bummed out that I will miss out on the terribly fun stares of my fellow passengers today, but alas, roomie is more responsible than I and has therefore forced my bum to migrate to the airport ridiculously early.

SO here I am, all drugged up with nowhere to go.

Yes it is true my friends, I don’t think I have any other anxiety so strong as that which flying causes within me.  I’m a relatively frequent flier, yet my discomfort with the notion has never quite subsided.  There have been several times when I have actually decided (t minus 30 minutes before takeoff) not to board a plane, leaving me stranded.  After this happened a few times, my doctor decided it would be prudent to drug me during travel.  Hence, I give you “Charlee under the influence of far too many milligrams of benzodiazepine”.

Anyway, as so often happens when I am forced to deal with airports/planes, I have been annoyed by the actions of various people.  Ohkay, SURE, I know I have probably annoyed my fair share of people today also…but that is irrelevant to the fact that the same things bother me every time I travel.  So, I bring you my “rules” for the procedures associated with changes in geographical location:

Number One: Wear Something Comfortable But Not Yucky

This is a very important one my friends.  I am the first to admit that I generally wear things whilst flying that I would never wear in my general life–that is, I dress solely to be comfortable, and therefore look like a crackhead most of the time.

Well, I have a sad tale to explain this life lesson that I had to learn the hard way: I was flying to Pittsburgh last minute to see family, so I didn’t have much time to pack/get my act together and therefore looked like a really unsightly version of myself.  Due to a snowstorm, my flight got canceled and the next one included a detour to DC…well, I got stuck in DC my friends.  I had the option of waiting out the storm/getting a hotel, but I have friends in DC so I figured I’d spend a day or two with them rather than dealing with the masses of angry stranded travelers.  However, this meant I did not have my luggage and I looked like a COMPLETE street rat.  Luckily, my dear friend allowed me to change into some less offensive clothing of hers, but I still had to deal with the trip from Dulles to the city looking like a fool–not to mention showing up to meet my friend and her friends looking as though I’d just rolled out of bed (literally–I was practically wearing pajamas).

So, learn from my mistake friends, even if all you do whilst flying is sleep, it is not wise to dress as though all you plan to do is sleep!

Number Two: Take A Chill Pill (literally or figuratively)

This one actually applies in all situations.  I would like everyone in the world to take a chill pill.

Well, that is a bit untrue as some people I encounter are sufficiently chill, but unfortunately, there seems to be an absence of the chill factor in airports.  To be fair, I realise that airports are an unpleasant place to spend time.  Oh, how I realise this.  I just wish we could all do our part to make it a bit less unpleasant by calming the eff down a little bit.  Just a little bit.

Number Three: Use your brain

Again, I suppose this one could be applied to life also.  However, this is the number one thing that bothers me in airports.

I’m not a mean or unfriendly person, and I know chilling in airports is a bummer, so I am always down to converse with those around me.  I draw the line, however, when someone feels the need to not only carry on a conversation with me for an excessive period of time, even though I’ve made it clear that I am not interested in hearing the details of their sister’s cousin’s wife’s daughter’s bat mitzvah, but also does not properly understand my motives when I state that I need to get a cup of coffee.  No, I don’t want you to join.  I’m trying to get away from you.

Then there are the children.  Oh, the children.  I’m actually a gigantic fan of kids–I’m only half-kidding when I say one of my goals in life is to “save the children” and I’ve done a lot of volunteering with kids and was even a nanny for about a month.  So I’m down with the youngins.  However, I am not down with their parents.  Children should not be running amok through airports–frolicking, playing…fine–but screaming?  This is not okay, and the parents who think it is are clearly not aware of the fact that unpleasant noises are something many of us strive to avoid in life, and the last thing we want is their ignorance forcing this upon us.  When I have children I will obviously be slipping them a few chill pills whilst traveling.

Although it is also possible that I am a bit bitter that I can no longer be the one running around and having fun and that I’m expected to sit here, bored out of my mind, for an extended period of time.

Okay I think that is about it for my rant of the day…please keep my sage advice in mind next time you find yourself traveling, and if you should find yourself sitting next to me on a plane, please be aware of the fact that I am dazed and confused and not exactly down to discuss the purpose of your business trip!  I will appreciate this very, very much!

hugs and kisses, Charlee

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what are (gay) best friends for?

First off, I would like to step up on to my soap box once again and inject unnecessary political undertones into this post by saying that I am STILL flabbergasted that Proposition 8 passed and to be perfectly honest, very angry.  When I heard it had passed, I spent several days trying to find someone to fly to California with me to protest.  I was unable to do this (apparently some people have lives which they cannot abandon at random), however, I am passionately against this HATEFUL legislation and I think it is utterly sickening that it passed on the same day that Obama was elected–the old “two steps forward, one step back” strikes again.

On the subject of Prop 8, here is a very funny video which has been quite circulated by now, but hey, if you have not seen it, it is worth the few minutes in terms of amusement (in my opinion anyway):

Prop 8: The Musical

Anyway, needless to say, I love me some gay men.  I mean I’m down with all the gays, but two of my best friends happen to be gay men, so I’m partial to their genre of gay people.  Of course, I know some gay dudes that are not at all stereotypically “gay” and whom I didn’t know were gay until they came out to me, but with my two very close friends, this is not the case as they are quite the flamers.  This is part of the reason I love them so dearly–they are incredibly informed of fashion and there’s nothing I love more than a man that appreciates the genius of Tom Ford.

One of my best friends in the world, J, was out of the country for the past month or so to celebrate the holidays and I missed him like crazy.  J was my neighbor freshman year in college and I couldn’t have survived without him!  He has truly influenced the person I am today and he’s like family to me–so it is for this reason, and our extra close bond, that he told me at lunch today that I need to get back to my days of detoxes and spinning classes.  Yes, though I can always count on him to be brutally honest about my appearance, my sweet J put his honesty into that delicate little package.

I think I needed to hear the harsh truth though–I’m a borderline health nut, but I have in the past few months, and especially during the holidays, really been taking it easy.  Living life like it’s going out of style, if you will.

Therefore, I’m meeting with my nutritionist tomorrow and starting a week-long detox to get all of the yucky stuff out of my temple…the only sad part is that this means I cannot drink.  Which is very sad, because I love to drink. :(  And I might actually try breaking a sweat whilst working out instead of happily jogging along for a measly 30 minutes!

In other news, I have to say I feel a bit daft after my last posting–I have absolutely no right to complain about anything, ever…I’m so incredibly blessed that I actually often feel guilty for having such a nice life and therefore feel somewhat guilty for complaining about a bunch of meaningless BS!  Alas, meaningless BS is still BS though and therefore not altogether pleasant.  That said, I’m going to work on looking on the bright side more!!

But (!) I must whine for a moment and say that the job is still really difficult.  I am cursing the fact that I took it–I was perfectly happy giving my brain an extended vacation!  The problem in my life tends to be that my work ethic does not equal my ambition and this has bit me in the ass yet again.  Bottom line, I need to put my nose to the mirror (joke) and put some hours in with the books, which is way more difficult of a task for me to accomplish than it should be.

I’ve been (mostly) shutting BC down because I’m over it and uncomfortable about the whole thing, i.e. the fact that I let my lust for him overwhelm my sense of propriety.

And this weekend I’m going skiing!  Hooray!!!

Just have to get through this week first…

xx Charlee

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curses!

Ladies and gentlemen of the internet, I feel as though I am cursed!  The recent turn of events in my life has me questioning the possibility of someone performing black magic upon me; I am legitimately half-way serious about this suspicion.

One recent curse is my newfound semi-ambitious attitude, which prompted me to take a job instructing undergraduates–why is this a curse you ask?  Well, I suppose the true curse is my laziness, because I took the job so late that the subjects I would have enjoyed teaching were not available and I am now stuck reciting calculus.  Unfortunately, my dim-witted arse was unable to make the necessary neurological connections to come to the conclusion that I’m not especially qualified for this position because I have not done calculus in quite some time–therefore, the lack of calculus combined with my cannabis-damaged memory has really been cramping my style this week.

So now I have tons of studying to do, as I can hardly even remember how to take the derivative of something.  That’s actually not a joke.  Sad, right? (I know there are some math geeks out there!)

Not to mention I made the poor choice of going out tonight instead of getting work done, I have to work tomorrow, and perhaps most foreboding–I must rise at 8 am.  Clearly this is the result of witchcraft.

Also, to update you on my misadventures: I texted Mr. Martini to say I wasn’t sure what I wanted from him.  Straightforward and honest is always the way to go, right?  Wrong.  He sent me a text that said: “Well let me know when you figure it out.”  Psh!! Perhaps he didn’t intend for that to come off with an air of attitude, but it did, and I’m bothered by it because Mr. Martini is usually very chill, unlike the excessively moody men I’ve had the misfortune of spending time with in the past–and I am not into it.  At all.

Things have been weird with BC as well, and I feel as though I might be in a bit over my head.  We’ve been spending quite a bit of time together and talking a lot–which is cool, because he’s a friend and I know he’s going through a hard time, and I did sort of miss him.  But, the other aspect of the equation is that we’re sleeping together and that means lots of sleepovers and snuggling and couple-y things, which I’m not altogether comfortable with.  One of my friends told me my “radar of commitment-phobia” is unnecessarily going off, and I think he was right–I have no reason to be getting stressed out over this because we’re just hanging out and having fun (even if that entails breaking the booty call code).  Right?  Right.

This is simply further evidence of the dark-sided stuff going on in my life!  (major love to you if you know what that phrase is a reference to)

Furthermore, insomnia has continued to be an intense issue for me.  Needless to say, this is very unhealthy and worrisome!  And also further evidence of my thesis.

Curses!  I am cursed.

xx Charlee

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friday fun :)

From Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs by Chuck Klosterman:

“You can’t really learn much about a person based upon what kind of music they happen to like.  As a personality test, it doesn’t work even half the time.  However, there is at least one thing you can learn: The most wretched people in the world are those who tell you they like every kind of music ‘except country.’  People who say that are boorish and pretentious at the same time.  All it means is that they’ve managed to figure out the most rudimentary rule of pop sociology; they know that hipsters gauge the coolness of others by their espoused taste in sound, and they know that hipsters hate modern country music.  And they hate it because it speaks to normal people in a tangible, rational manner.  Hipsters hate it because they hate Midwesterners, and they hate Southerners, and they hate people with real jobs.”

Hope everyone has a great friday!

xx Charlee

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