drowning

in debt because when the economy started to tank I panicked and took a job that pays me $10K less that I'm used to making. Turns out 10 is a shitton of K's and I can't pay my bills the way I thought/hoped I could and now the holidays are coming and I'm really panicking. Anyone have any ideas on how to bring in more money without taking a second job/ my hours are just way too prohibitive. And yes, I have been applying for higher paying jobs.

(the life of) Riley

Riley (front) and Bama (rear). Summer 2010.

(*update* Riley went to sleep this afternoon (9.13.11) at the vet's with his favorite people cuddling him.)

9.12.11
So, it looks like I'll be putting my amazing dog Riley to sleep. I'm not sure if it will be today or tomorrow but it's completely inevitable as he's about 15 years old, and this weekend he pretty much stopped eating. He stopped eating and I started crying, non-stop, all damn weekend. Walking him and tearing up, crying louder in the shower, tears rolling down my fat blubbery cheeks when I scratch the top of his head. A full on sob-fest as I sat in the car by myself this morning waiting for alternate side parking to finish. I'm a huge salt-watery mess. This morning, after another teary walk my building's super saw me, looked at Riley and just hugged me. Then the cute doorman that flirts with me caught up with me at the bus stop, I guess the super had told him and he came over to hug me and to tell me how sorry he is and that he loved Riley too. Normally I'd have a second to mock him because his Red Sox are 3.5 games behind my Yankees but I didn't even realize that until now, about 4 and half hours later. For what's it's worth I was properly  embarrassed when (at the bus stop - no pride, no shame) a woman asked me if I'd lost someone on September 11th.

I don't really feel badly for Riley, Riley has had a GREAT life, one that he got two extra shots at. I adopted Riley as a 4-5 year old dog, from an animal clinic where they told me that Riley had been moved around several shelters to avoid being put to sleep. It's unfortunate but it's my understanding that 5 year old dogs are not in hot demand. So that was his first extra shot. Last September after enjoying a piece a boiled chicken Riley fell over and started convulsing. When he finally stopped having spasms I noticed his eyes kept rolling. His paws were tightly clenched. He'd had a stroke. I was beside myself. I cried all night certain that the next morning was going to be his last. He couldn't walk so I carried him into my bedroom, took the plaid blanket off my bed and laid it on the floor for him.

Before that night I don't think he'd ever slept in my room before. Not even the time I saw a mouse and dragged Riley's bed into my room hoping his presence would deter another sighting. Riley picked up a corner of his bed in his mouth and dragged it right back into the living room. A definitive creature of habit. After his stroke though, he slept at the foot of my bed every night on that plaid blanket.

The morning after his stroke I took him to the vet positive this was it. I sobbed on the way there stopping constantly to nuzzle his neck one last time and whisper my love for him into his deaf ears. Turned out the vet disagreed with me. He put Riley on Prednisone and some other stuff and Riley (and I) got an entire bonus year (his second shot). I really can't feel cheated, but I do. I really shouldn't feel this sad, after all, a whole entire bonus year, but I do. I want Riley to be my dog forever of course.

I'm sad, very sad and very selfishly, for me. Because I love Riley and very soon I'll be without him. And I'm sad for Bama, my boxer/pit mix who has never known a day without Riley and who doesn't have the ability to know what's happened. I'm sad that she'll be without her brother. Riley, my gorgeous sweet boy will simply take a nap as he does a thousand times a day, he won't be in pain, he won't miss us or feel alone, he won't ... anything. This should comfort me but instead it makes me do that thing where you gasp a little as you cry. I told the vet this morning on the phone; Riley has been an addition to my life every second he's been in it. He was always terrific with everyone that came into my apartment, I could let him roam at my parent's lake house and he never took off. In the city I walked him off the leash and he never strayed or made me worry. When my cousin brought her toddler over and her toddler repeatedly pulled herself up using Riley's lopsided ears he licked her. He's always been a wonderful, trustworthy, loyal dog and it would (further) kill me to think he's in pain, he deserves to die peacefully and comfortably with me hugging him. I don't want him to get to where he can't move and can't go out and can't tell who I am. That's not the ending a loving, wonderful and dignified dog has earned.

*and aren't I kind of an ass, I don't post forever and then this? Sorry, I had to.

What a good boy

Fun at the dog run 

I also had to stalk an online posting from when I adopted Riley 'lo those many years ago. It's below the jump.

From March 24, 2002
At 9pm last night I brought New Dog home.
YES!!!!! IT IS TRUE. NEW DOG IS HERE. HE HAS ARRIVED. WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THEM APPLES?????????
I have a new puppy!!! He is a three (four? five?) year old setter-collie mix. He is 46 pounds of mush. He is obscenely friendly and seems to like nothing more than laying on the floor and being scratched. And scratched. And after that, maybe a little scratched!! He is black and white and brown and patchy and spotty. He is beyond delicious.
HERE IS THE RUNDOWN:I went to the ASPCA with Ethan and Fran yesterday and I played with a dog but he was totally wacky!! Hyper as fuck, seriously wild. He would have eaten my house. So I came home and started looking on the internet and expanded my search and saw a picture of a dog named McGee. His mini-bio made him seem truly beyong the perfect dog so I sent an email to the clinic where he was. Unlike most dogs, he was waiting at a veterinary center not a shelter. The director sent me an email back immediately saying that the dog was in hot demand but I could come over Sunday to see him if I wanted. But there were two couples already interested and he may be adopted. She said she'd call Sunday and tell me what was going on. Sure enough she called today and told me to come over so I dropped everything and ran over to 83rd St. on the West Side. As soon as I got there they went to get the dog andhe came down the steps and the second I saw him I knew. He looked like my dog from childhood. He was so sweet and shy. Then the women there just shoved a leash at me, some dog treats and poop bags and told me I could take him wherever I wanted. I should just be back by 7pm. It was 5:30. So, off we went. He was a prince on the leash. We went to the park and found a dog run so I sent him in and took off his leash so he could socialize and run with the other dogs. Aside from trying to mount only the biggest fucking dog in the run he seemed to be real chill with all the other dogs. Then the big dog that New Dog kept trying to mount tried to mount me!!! It kept jumping all over me and it wouldn't go away and it was really freaking me out and suddenly New Dog lunged between us!!! But not meanly, simply as a buffer. He didn't bark, or growl or bare his teeth or anything. He was just there. It was adorable. The sweetest thing!! I melted!! We stayed at the dog run for 45 minutes or so and walked around the park and the Upper West Side for a while and got back to the clinic at about 7:30. Weirder yet, when we got back the director started to ask me a zillion questions and then this other lady shows up and says "I walk him everday, I know him. Let me talk to her!!" And who is this lady?? Bernadette Peters!! How cool! She is so beautiful and she was so cute and friendly!! It was great! She tells me she adores New Dog, walks him everyday, etc. I had the picture of Willy- the dog that looks just like New Dog and I show them all and they couldn't believe the similarities. We all agree; it's kismet. I fill out a ton of paperwork, become best friends with the clinic staff, give them a donation (they asked for $75 but I so love the dog and they were so nice I gave them $100 and I'm broke as shit!!) and I called Ethan and he drove in to the city from New Jersey and picked New Dog and I up and brought us back here and hung out with us. And it is unanimous. New Dog rocks and we love him. LOVE. LOVE. LOVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
We brought New Dog home at about 9pm. That is why I am ditching you today dear Joe. I cannot adopt the dog and then leave it totally alone, in my home, (with my leather!!! couch) less than 24 hours later. Please swear to me you are not mad? Will you come over after work today and meet New Dog?
I loved the hell out of that furball the moment I met him. What a great dog.

I love you Riley, always and ever, even with my broken heart <3

the heart of Texas

I'm dying to post about my trip to Texas but there was so damn much that went on! Until I can whittle it all down let's just go with this:

My dearest Heather got wed.
It was fantastic.
Even though flying there was a disaster. And there was an incident on (one of) the plane(s).
And I smoked a cigarette with a lizard at 2am (that's neither a drug nor a Doors reference, it just happened).
And I didn't touch the Glock 9mm. I think that's the part I require the most credit for.
Being sober helped.

Congrats Heather and Chris. Your life together should be as beautiful as your wedding and as interesting as your history. Love you.

the definition of laugh out loud

quite possibly the best Happy TV Funhouse ever. Jon Hamm is a god.

question of the afternoon

what the fuck is it that I'm allergic to and how do I avoid it because if I keep blowing my nose at 89 second intervals it's going to look like Michael Jackson's nose.

(I have a suspicion: mildew; stay out of recently flooded, carpeted office)

everything in life should have an 80's sax solo

I am so inexplicably infatuated with this song again. I need to hear it at least once a day. I don't care if it's from 9 B.C., I loves it.

Also Michael Douglas was firmly in his 'hot leading man' phase here. Kathleen Turner too kinda.

mama said there'd be days like this

I grew up in Brooklyn. I took the subway to school or my dad would drop me off on his way to work. Without fail my mom would kiss me goodbye and send me off by yelling down the street; "have a smart day".

I could have used her directive this morning. 

I woke up late.

Then I almost walked out of the apartment without realizing that one contact lens was in fact not in my eye but instead, shriveled up and suctioned on to the side of the sink.

When I finally made it out the door I was doing much better. I walked the dog, put coffee in my travel cup, made sure my Metrocard was in my coat pocket and I was off.  I walked a few blocks to the subway station, swiped my card, descended to the bottom level and waited for a 4. 

The 5 came first, I stepped back, let it pass and continued to wait for the 4. A few weeks ago, in a 'the train has arrived' hysteria I blindly got on only to discover I was on the wrong subway. Today I slightly prided myself on looking before leaping. A few minutes pass, the 4 arrives, I embark and we're headed uptown.  

I'm sure Liz Taylor was a lovely, oft married lady but in the greater scheme of things I don't really care about her so I left the newspaper (print media! I'm Amish!) in my bag and tried to 3 star the Angry Birds screen I had been working on since last night. I'm pinging irate avians around and doing a little bit of people watching. The guy across from me looks like Biggie (but I think he's Biggier), he's rapping quietly but forcefully to himself and holding a discman. A discman. He looks at me, I look away in observance of people watching rules. He gets up, stands in front of the door, tips his Yankee hat to his reflection and starts dancing and pointing at himself. I guess the Mr. Disc Man told him to. 

WannaBiggie gets off at Jackson Avenue. That was about the time that I realized my commute doesn't involve a Jackson Avenue. Fucking fuck fuck. There are few things more self esteem shattering than being bested by the MTA. My Metrocard is really low and until a week from tomorrow, I'm pretty broke so I try and get off at a station that has the free transfer walk-across. The subway map says the Jackson Avenue station is such a station.

Ha ha, MTA, got me again!!

Refill the card, double back about 20 minutes and eventually get to work.

Where I am utterly confused by the fact that my office building elevator is being deranged. Every time I hit the button the doors open instead of closing. What is this now?

"You keep pushing 1. We're on 1", says a voice from behind me. 

Today is shaping up to be the sort of day where I'm glad I don't handle hazardous materials, babies and/or steering wheels.

*Update*
After work I tripped up an escalator (who does that?!) and I'm pretty sure I broke my big toe. Vicodin and I are home now where I'm avoiding all the knives and have no plans on showering with a toaster.

god how I hate the Spice Girls

there are the things you say out loud and the things you wouldn't dare. And we know which things are which.

OMG! Your baby is gorgeous!

Holy shit, your baby girl/boy looks exactly like your husband/wife and damn if that's not a good look on a girl/boy. Sure, you be the one to tell someone their baby girl looks Harvey Fierstein or their son is the splitting image of Roseanne Barr.

That said, while my parents have been asking what I want for my birthday I hear myself rather reasonably responding; "an iPhone". To my brothers; "a gift certificate at the salon I go to would be great, I'm dying for a cut". I do, I want those things, quite badly even. But (Spice Girls) what I really, really want are flowers from a guy that I could genuinely see myself talking to for the next 40 years or so. I'm not quite sure where the flowers part comes from (but the heart wants what it wants?).

**
I can't ask for the new Trish McEvoy perfume I've been dying to try, or my favorite candle, because the awesomely wonderful Hank already took care of that for me. I know the nicest people, thank you!!

offering the gift of self

(since I am a horrible person, destined to die alone, unloved and without children) I have a ton of free time on my hands! Left to my own devices, I don't spend free time wisely. I sleep, read and watch crap tv (ie: last night's Lifetime tv movie starring Heather Locklear). I don't go to the gym (god how I should/must), I don't read to underprivileged/blind/illiterate/troubled kids. I only once (and so briefly) participated in a political campaign.

Well, now I think I want to get involved in something. Nothing as time committed as big sistering a girl but a cause that's a little less intense (and where I'm less likely to have a child's development in my hands). When I was in junior high my friends I did volunteer work at local hospitals and schools and I loved it. Now maybe something involving elderly people (though a deeply life changing Tuesday's With Morrie scenario is not at all a must). I'm not even a fan of elderly people, I'm just not sure what my other options are. Basically, the problem is I don't have direction, I just know I have the will and the time. 

Any ideas? 

thoughts about things that might happen next week

I hate being the one in the restaurant that the waiters holding cake and candle are walking towards. There's something about people who don't know me singing Happy birthday to me that's always bugged me. Is that weird? I feel like that's sort of reserved for people who know you and really awkward for those who don't. Like moving a strand of hair out of your eye or taking a piece of food off your face, these are things that strangers don't (read: should fucking never) do.

In the same vein I think blowing out candles is weird. Because it's my birthday I get to spittle all over everyone's dessert? Uhm, gross. Surely I'm not alone in this either.

So feel free to celebrate with me, just don't make strangers sing or touch me.

a moment of grace

yesterday, as I was leaving my office building and walking towards the bus to go home I suddenly found myself sideways. Then face down. Since I'm quite lithe and graceful it all went exactly like a well planned reenactment of Black Swan. Slightly more so the crazy and delusional parts, maybe not so much the grace and poise parts. Such is the life of a ballerina. My first thought, while lying on the sidewalk and seeing two pairs of legs pass me (one sort of stepping over me) was; holy fuck. I did it. With this fall I achieved invisibility! I fell but no one sees me. The first Jewish chick with a superpower. You can imagine how excited I was.

"Oh my god, are you ok?"

Briefly. Fuck. So I'm not invisible (not fair). I'm just lying on the sidewalk with a throbbing knee/ankle/elbow/wrist. Well doesn't that seem normal?

what a difference

my office floor pretty much clears out between 5 and 5:10pm. This morning I had an eye dr. appt and came in around 11am. I emailed my boss and told him I'd make the time up.

Well, when he stopped into my office around 5:30 and saw I was still here this is the conversation we had;

him: do you have to make up time? does someone somewhere know?
me: I don't think so, I just fill out a time sheet every few weeks.
him: so why don't you go home?
me: I still have work to finish.
him: well, only if you're sure and you want to. Everything's on time and looks great, I'm happy. You really can go, I don't care.
the voice in my head: but I'm so used to working for psychos, what if this is trick?

Either way, I like having things done for him that surprise him, he's so nice, I feel like he should be rewarded for it (and there's a lesson to all the assface bosses in the world).

R.I.F(f)

we all know reading is fundamental(ly free) and that I'm always reading a book. Now that I'm employed (but still poor - go figure) I've really been on a low-cost entertainment spree. I've been maxing out my unlimited dvd rentals (Dinner for Schmucks was funnier than I thought it would be, Frozen and The Canyon were taut suspense movies) and pretty much looting the library.

Between reconnaissance strolls through Barnes and Noble and recommendations from an author/blogger I'm in smit with (I'm sure I mentioned her before but in case I haven't her name is Jen Lancaster and she's hilarious) I have been finding new books and authors to read and it has netted me some great reads. I created a spot on the right hand side of this here blog, to tell you what I'm reading or have recently read and as I'm a book nerd, I assume others might be. Here are some recent stand-outs that I think you might enjoy (provided sweeping historical sagas written by depressed Russians/Icelanders with umlauts/priggish Victorians aren't your thing either). Here you go:

Incidentally, I've been into apocalyptic stories lately, maybe it's because I  feel like my world isn't in my control, maybe reading about others who have it worse makes me feel better, but this book blew me away. I saw it at Barnes and Noble after a useless coffee date and I knew instantly that I wanted to read it. I put in on reserve at the library and the minute I picked it up I started reading. There's a blurb on the back from Jacquelyn Mitchard where she said she read the book in one sitting. I laughed at that, I mean really, the book is 405 pages, how do you sit long enough to read 405 pages?  Well, I found out; a day and half is how long it takes to read 405 pages of incredibly suspenseful well written story telling. This is the rare Doomsday book that doesn't involve zombies. No. It's an avian flu pandemic and while it doesn't sound interesting Jacquelyn and I found it riveting and books don't make sounds anyway. This book is author Carla Buckley's first and I eagerly await her follow-up.

Oh did this book blow me away. The moment I closed it I looked for someone to discuss it with. What a great, twisty, gothic story this was. In 1990's London a reserved college student befriends a wildly eccentric classmate who lives in 'Great Expectations' like mansion with her brother and other artsy types. Reserved coed becomes completely enmeshed in the mansion's hedonistic patchwork 'family' and before you know it she's not so reserved and soon after everything has gone off the rails. A grievous act occurs (the book flap will tell you precisely), lies ensue and no one is left unscathed. The book slowly ratchets up the tension while throwing in a red herring or two just in case (like me) you're a smug mystery reader who's surely figured it all out. You haven't. This is Erin Kelly's first novel and another first time author who has me looking forward to novel number two.

This book was a pick up from Jen Lancaster. She recently posted a winter reading list and this was one of the books mentioned. This is a straight up thriller with screenplay written all over it. It was not the most cerebral book I've read but the story was engaging enough that I eagerly kept turning the pages and read it in two days or so. Four longtime friends in their late 20's/early 30's, bored, slightly disillusioned and not where they expected to be in life decide to shake things up. Shaking things up rarely turns out well though (unless you're Julia Roberts in any movie and have a killer soundtrack) and what seemed like a good idea just might end up destroying each of their lives. My only two complaints: the ending was overwrought and the author has Jenn (the only female in the story) constantly brushing her hair behind her ear as though that's the only tic he could think of to assign to a female. She doesn't 'chew her lip', 'bite on her thumbnail', 'bounce from foot to foot'. Nope, she gets nervous she brushes her hair behind her ear. Surely the author could have mixed it up a little. Maybe next time. Still a definite page turner that was enjoyable without having to be a complex mindfuck.

A slower than-Aaron-Sorkin-paced walk through the White House and still a juicy Beltway insider look at the things that go on over the 18 acres which encompass it. Nicolle Wallace (no apparent relation to CBS's Mike or his son FOX's Chris) was the communications chief under George W. Bush and a senior campaign advisor for McCain-Palin. That said, she doesn't use the words strategery or refudiate even once and no one ever shoots a moose! I found the writing to be sharp and witty, her 3 female characters are well thought out, they have individual traits while being smart and interesting. This is no David McCullough/David Halbertstam fare but it kept me entertained.

Your turn, what books do you want to recommend to me?

blahg

I'm bored. Be a dear and suggest blogs for me to read. Only caveat: must be interesting.

ugh shut it

dear bleeding heart Hollywood liberals whom I follow on Twitter (ahem Rainn Wilson I 1000% mean you) where do you get off bitching about HRC's response regarding Libya? There was a guy who was balls to the walls tough on Middle Eastern dictators, you seethed at him daily. Libya is precisely what Iraq was. You voted for the wildly PC lightweight ergo you get a lightweight response to some. Please spare me the indignation.

@rainnwilsonRainnWilson

Ghadafi is waging war on his own people, hundreds dead (or more) & our response is we're 'gravely concerned'.

...ohmygodohmygodohmygod

I'm so incredibly freaked out about finances I think I might hyperventilate to death. How can I be this poor while being employed? How?! Ahhhh I'm dying.

he yells so you know he cares

Heather and I having an Elliot kind of day.

teaching moments & mondays

yesterday in honor of overpaid men playing around in spandex I made (amongst other balanced food groups) chocolate chip cookies. When I left for work this morning there were 16 or so left. So why did I bring no cookies to work with me? Did I not think chocolate chip cookies would enhance my work day experience? Ah, a teaching moment.

etiquette; is this still a thing?

despite the fact that yesterday was a Saturday, it was pouring rain and I was completely not in the mood to do so, I met a friend's (male) friend for coffee. He was on time. By the end of the date punctuality would be his only attribute.

Gentlemen, here's a helpful word or two on first meeting a woman; don't stand at the coffee counter with your hands shoved so deeply in your pockets that others wonder if you're playing with yourself. And for fuck's sake, don't discuss your necrotic skin and all the difficulties associated with your psoriasis. 

Ordinarily I'd assume this was the calculated work of a disinterested guy. In this case I'd be wrong. I've already gotten a follow up email and voice mail informing me of what a nice time he had and sure it's late notice but do I want to get together to watch the Superbowl.

I ask you, what the hell is wrong with people?

and now a little financial softshoe

it's hard for me to wrap my mind around how much I work v. how much (much? no, not much at all, pennies!) I get paid. It seems to me that every time payroll rolls around, which is every other Friday, there is a new deduction my employer sucks out of my paycheck. A brief list of grievances;

• they forgot to pay me the first 2 weeks
• then they gave me a partial handwritten check
• next payroll they deducted the taxes from the prior partial payment
• then they retro-actively deducted health insurance (though thank god I have it)
• then they discovered they overpaid me for a few hours and without telling me deducted it in bulk resulting in an unexpected $200+ drop in my already crap paycheck.

I knew when I accepted this job that the salary wasn't at all what I was shooting for. I just didn't think it could possibly be as meager as it is. So now I'm the ass who will already be looking for a way to up my salary. Namely, being offered another better paying position elsewhere that I can present to HR prepared to take the other job if HR doesn't bite. Awesome. That's how you want things to go in your first two months at a new job, right? Eek. So to up the ante on my assness, with the amazing Heather's help, I've added ads to this site in the hopes of generating anything extra for my sad little coffers. I get that they're not a necessarily attractive distraction, sorry. 

uhm really?

And how am I not going to read this? I'm thinking this is the perfect Kindle purchase.

damn is she good

*Symptom Recital:
I do not like my state of mind;
I'm bitter, querulous, unkind.
I hate my legs, I hate my hands,
I do not yearn for lovelier lands.
I dread the dawn's recurrent light;
I hate to go to bed at night.
I snoot at simple, earnest folk.
I cannot take the gentlest joke.
I find no peace in paint or type.
My world is but a lot of tripe.
I'm disillusioned, empty-breasted.
For what I think, I'd be arrested.
I am not sick, I am not well.
My quondam dreams are shot to hell.
My soul is crushed, my spirit sore;
I do not like me any more.
I cavil, quarrel, grumble, grouse.
I ponder on the narrow house.
I shudder at the thought of men....
I'm due to fall in love again.

— Dorothy Parker

* I didn't even intend to copy I don't blog anymore because the Jets abused my pretty pretty NE Patriots Dawn's Poetry Wednesday, it just so serendipitously happened.

lunatic left

When the left can admit that the Fort Hood shooter was Muslim, that Bill Clinton's rhetoric cause the Murrah bombing and that Al Gore's uselessness incited the embassy bombings I'll be willing to hear their opinion on the Tuscon shootings. Until then, really, shut the fcuk up you blathering idiots you're embarrassing yourselves.

*Update* I can't help but wonder; how many people were pissed off about "blood libel" before MSNBC told them to be?

gloria steinem's revenge?

As I emailed Heather this morning, I've got cramps. I've had 'em before and no doubt I'll have 'em again, but these cramps, oh these are something special. Surely my mother bargained with some force of nature to give me cramps so bad I'd beg for 9+ gestating months off. Well I have Percocet. I win. 

I win, that reminds me of an irrelevant clip I always enjoy.  Happy Friday. 

if you want to be happy for the rest of your life (a.k.a. Gloria Steinem's corpse just burst into flames)

or the ancillary 8 hours of your day, let me make a suggestion: work for a man. Not a woman. Because in the words of every man everywhere; 'bitches be crazy' and men are much goddamn easier to work for. There's no subtext, no attitude. Look, I get that nothing is all anything, all women aren't anything other than all women but it's funny how some can fuck it up for many.

In 2010 I:

lost a job
found a job
broke up with a man
started dating a new one
watched my dog have a stroke
watched my dog recover from a stroke (he's pretty much back to normal)
was supported by a great group of friends
got over the friendships that have run their course
became addicted to Angry Birds
became addicted to Words with Friends
learned how to make some killer new dishes
lost and found 7 pounds about 7 times


I'm really curious to see what 2011 has up its sleeve.


What are you looking forward to in 2011?