You know what's not fun?

Coming home for lunch and finding a little note hanging on your front door knob.

This one specifically stated that the water company had come by to visit, but since they didn't find anyone at home that they had turned off my water.


TURNED OFF MY WATER.

Dammit. I should have brought my camera.

*** Would just like to start this off on the right foot and not mention that I let my update on my CBGBs concert just wait around for close to a week after the event. Dammit...mentioned it anyway... ah, well... stupid, stupid***



Last Tuesday was the show that I was stressing about for about a month beforehand. I would like to sum it all up by saying that I'm glad I didn't just say "Fuck it" and stay home, because the thought had occurred to me quite a few times. The stress of it all, putting stress on The Boy, was just way too stressful for me to cope with and a few times before leaving for the show, I thought about calling it all off and going to bed.

But, I didn't. And I learned that the boy wouldn't have let me cancel anyway even though he really couldn't give a shit about seeing the show because the sweetheart that he is, was raised by his Jewish mother (oy, the guilt).



The show was scheduled to start at 10:30pm at the famous CBGBs in Manhattan's East Village. I was really exited about seeing a show there as they will be closing their doors in September some time and packing it up and moving to Las Vegas, taking all of their dirty furniture and fixtures with them. And man, is that place just packed with ancient dirt. Famous dirt. Like, dirt that Joey Ramone probably smeared there sometime in the 70's.

10:30, right. So, we left the house later than I originally intended, getting on the road around 8:30. We followed the directions I got from friend, S, but followed them incorrectly. I assumed that since she lives in Brooklyn, and travels to the village pretty regularly (by car, even) that she would have the most accurate directions: the shortest shortcut.

But she didn't take into consideration that maybe I'm a dumbass. And that we would get lost. Because we did. Get lost. In Brooklyn. Which, I won't lie, sucked pretty hard. There we were driving up and down Metropolitan Avenue for about 45 minutes looking for the fucking bridge that never showed itself. I swear we followed the signs, but then the signs went away and so did the bridge and we were lost again. Fucker.

We abandoned the Williamsburg Bridge and all the way back up the BQE we went to the tunnel, into the city and alllll the way downtown. We found it. It was already 10:30, but we found it. (The band wasn't going to go on on-time, anyway, so it didn't really matter). Then we drove past it to find a place to park...uh, about 15 blocks away. So we walked! Not a problem!

But then we got lost again.

NYC Lesson*: See, the southern part was the first area of Manhattan Island that was developed, um, by the Dutch, I'm pretty sure. They built their roads as they saw necessary and without all of that pesky city-planning stuff. The roads, they go all over. They turn into other roads and kind of run diagonally to the later, planned, city-block structure the rest of the city is based on. It makes the whole area really fucking confusing if you don't live there, or spend a lot of time there, or (HA!) have a map.

I have a preet-ty good sense of direction, normally. Obviously, the stars were mis-aligned or some such shit that night, because I got lost going straight. It was not entirely my fault, you see, the name of the road changed on me, twice, while we were walking.

I got confused.

But don't fear, we found the club. Again. We walked through those famous front doors and talked to the surly door dude who asked for a $5 cover (but see, I was smart and had already ordered 2,$15 tickets in advance. Why pay $10 when you can pay $30, I always say...). We got our little "I'm an adult" bracelets so that we could pound the bar and we were in.

The band was already playing and it was awesome. He was half-way done with a song from two albums ago. Lovely. Then they played two songs that I had never heard before (must have been from the new album that I've been too cheap (lazy) to go get) and then played a song from the first album that I've always thought would be so great live. And it was! So Great!

...and then they stopped playing.

"Thanks, everyone! Good night!"

Lights came up.

People start filing out of the long, narrow club, pushing us up against the bar at the side of the room. The Boy and I look at each other in shock and horror.

It's 11:30.

We've missed it.

I saw a song and a half that I knew.

They were gone. I didn't even have time to buy a beer. I can't believe they actually went on ON-TIME.

We waited until mostly everyone left, I composed myself and we walked around the mostly empty club and just looked around. The walls are covered in stickers, signs and posters. Nothing spectacular, but that little bit of history that I wanted to soak up before the whole place is gone. Its the kind of thing that makes me wish I was born just a few (ur, 20) years earlier to have been part of the original punk scene. Must have been fabulous. Um, and dirty. Very dirty.

We walked up the 15 blocks back to the parking garage with kind of a disappointed air around us. Disappointed and outright hysterical, though. It made me want to jump into another bar and actually DO something while we were there. But, of course, it was midnight on a Tuesday night and we were an hour, at least, away from home. We figured that we got off a lot easier than we had thought and would be able to get to bed by 1:30. We shouldn't push it.



Afterwards, The Boy: "You know, its really too bad we missed it. I think I could have liked them."


Oy.





*Nothing with actual facts cited. This information is being pulled directly out of my ass, though I'm pretty sure I'm right.

Because I deserve a change

I've been working on my resume.

Claire
Address bit here
Phone # here
onaccountofmyrage@gmail.com


Objective:

To find a job within a 25 mile vicinity that doesn't make me want to hang myself with the telephone wire. Preferably for a company with amazing benefits that won't force me to change all of my doctors.

Qualifications:

Computer Chick, Building Operations / Large Company / 2000 - Present

• Fantastic skills with navigating, surfing, shopping, downloading on internet, also proficient in spending 8+ hours fucking around doing nothing productive whatsoever. Also, excellent at watching Panda Cam.
• Answering phone
• Typing @ 70 wpm, though accuracy is limited
• Blatant insubordination through poor attitude and inability to listen to directions without overwhelming need to punch supervisor between beady eyes.
• Works well with others
• Self-starter
• Builds meaningful, sometimes physical relationships with contractors / consultants / temporary employees* in order to get things needed to fulfill job requirements. Will use 'wiley ways' if necessary.(*Am currently living with one ex-temp of current company.)
• Good phone manner.
  
• Talented problem-solver.
• Chronically late back from lunch break.

What do you think?

I think i'm almost ready to get this thing out there. Surely, will impress the Personnel agents of my area's top 500 businesses.

Tomorrow WILL be a brand new day.

Must add: Brilliant at html, as well. Just look at those bullets! Outstanding.

"I wanna dance!" *

I hate the fact that at this stage in my life, I'm supposed to be a responsible adult.

A few months ago, I had purchased tickets for a concert in August on a Saturday night in Manhattan for a band** I have been waiting to see for at least 6 years. They've finally come to NY and I actually thought to check their tour schedule to see that they were touring - its not like these guys never come to NY, its just that I never think to check. I probably could have seen them years ago; you know, before I turned into an old fart.

The show was for 9:00 on a Saturday night (perfect!) at a small venue that I had been to a bunch of times, located about 3 blocks away from Penn Station which meant taking the train in and out of the city would have been perfect. And since I had been there before, I was really looking forward to going back and doing club-things after the band was finished, and actually have a fun night. Like one I may have had before I was lame.

But its not to be. Everything has changed. They changed the venue for some undisclosed reason. Now it's on a Tuesday at CBGB's at 10:00pm.

What the fuck.

Do I need to go into a dissertation on why the fuck this is a problem? Maybe because I have to fucking work the next day? I have to haul my ass into the city on a Tuesday night during mother-fucking rush hour for an hour and a half drive? Then find CBGB's, which I believe? Is REALLY fucking annoying to get to by car since it is all the fucking way downtown in the village. On a Tuesday night.

It's the Tuesday night that gets me. If it was still on Saturday, I wouldn't have anything to say about it. I mean, I've never even been to CBGB's, the infamous club where all of your favorite 70's punk bands came from: The Ramones, Patti Smith, Blondie, Talking Heads,The Shirts, etc. Its kind of a must-see, at least at some point in your life, I guess. Which I would have loved to do, eventually. Maybe on a weekend.

And the band that I'm coming to see is scheduled for 10:00pm, which means they'll go on around 11:30 because bands NEVER go on at the time they're scheduled for, which puts me back home in bed around 3am to get 3 hours of sleep and go to work. This is so disappointing.

Even more disappointed is The Boy. He could give a shit about seeing VAST. This is MY concert, that we're going to for ME, not for HIM, for ME. He doesn't get any sick days and will have to hurl himself in the direction of work in the morning on 3 hours of sleep, after getting beat up at a show at fucking CBGBs.

At least I can call in sick...

Which is exactly what I'm going to do.

Because I'm going to have a good time, dammit.


Maybe I'll even buy myself a Tshirt.



*Obscure, but memorable scene. Can't guess the movie? Try here.

**VAST

Family, death and beer.

Last night, I was guilted into going to a wake. The deceased was someone I had only met once or twice as a child, so this was not someone close to me or my family for that matter. He was...have to think about the family tree, here.... my second cousin's father-in-law. Right. Sort of a "wait, who died? who?" But I was a good girl and went with my mother, grandmother, brother and his girlfriend all the way to Glen Cove (about 45 minutes away) to make mom happy.

Apparently, "I don't do enough" with this part of the family. My (ur, second)cousin, Mary, has always been a wonderful person, and I like her very much. But her family.. is well, I don' t know. ...meh? I haven't liked their 3 children (uh... second cousins...once removed? I can never figure that shit out) since we were all little. The oldest daughter is 5 or 6 years younger than I am and has always been a snotty piece of shit, so I usually made a point of avoiding family gatherings involving them.*

Mom feels badly about that. She thinks my brother and I should make an appearance for, I don't know, representation purposes. Or maybe so that they know we're still alive. Whatever.

Firstly, I have never been to an Irish wake. Now I know that I have hated wakes simply because Italian wakes are boring as hell and fucking depressing. When we pulled into the parking lot last night, there were 20 or so people standing outside hanging around a cooler of beer, slinging back Heinikens while smoking and talking and laughing. The atmosphere inside the funeral home was very upbeat as well, with people talking and laughing - which, HELLO - doesn't happen in an Italian wake. Everything is always so somber and if you're stuck there for the full 3 hour session, twice a day for 2 or 3 days, is boring as fuck to the point where you start counting the flowers in the arrangements for some kind of stimulation. I don't mean to belittle my culture's traditions or anything, but jesus christ, can't we get a drink in here? The best part of an Italian wake is waiting to see if any members of the mafia make an appearance.***

Secondly, I haven't seen my cousins (the second cousins once removed) in years. Since they were, you know, kids. Since I was a kid. It so strange that they are real people now. Real people with jobs, cars, girl/boyfriends, graduating college. Weird. Very weird. In fact, the youngest of the three kids, who is about 15 now, didn't even recognize me.
Even though I had spent many years avoiding these people, I realize that I probably should have made more of an effort to see them. The live around the block from me, and I still never see them. Must do better.

Also I wonder if they're thinking about any of this. Probably not. It probably didn't faze them whatsoever. That girl always was a bitch...




*All this and Mary's husband is a Republican. Who runs for local elections. Who recently found out that I'm living in his district. And that I should vote for him because we're family, afterall**. Right. Maybe now the picture is clearer?

**Funnily enough, they hold fund raisers when he is running for something and always invite my and my mother to them. Mom usually goes strictly out of family obligation and buys something here and there. Though when she brings the catalogue home for me of whatever they were selling, we both kind of cringe at the fact that buying something from this catalogue is supporting the republican party. I had found something that I liked and asked for The Boy's opinion. He said, something to the effect of, if you like it, buy it. "Yeah, but this is for C's campaign fund...." His reply: "then don't you dare. We'll find it somewhere else."
We try not to be obvious about our lack of family support. Republicans...crikey.

***This apparently happened at one of my great uncle's wakes and I totally missed it - I miss everything, yo.

Blogging as Therapy.

I have been in my own head for too long, I think.

Nostalgia hits me at certain times during the day, every day, for an undetermined amount of time. Generally, I think back to old memories with a sense of longing and regret. EVERY DAY. There are a handful of people, and times in the past that I miss terribly and at this point in my life, really have no business going back to. Yet, I go on missing them as if i would be happy if i were still living as i did back then. I'm sure there's some kind of psycho-babble name for this, and after a few years of therapy I would be able to work through this overwhelming feeling of regret and loss I have over the past.

But, see, I never thought that it was an overwhelming feeling until I stopped to take notice of the thought process the other day. I mean, this is just nuts.

For awhile, I thought that maybe it was because I was unhappy with where I was in my life. Until I realized that I have been doing this for many years, to the point where now, I reminisce about what was going on in my life, at other times that I was reminiscing about what I had done before that. Do you follow? This has been going on consistently for years.

Am I just perpetually unsatisfied with what is going on around me? I mean, this shit goes back to when I was about 16, which was likely the beginning of a bunch of years of having really good friends and a lot of fun; all of which I miss. A lot.

Especially the friends. All of them are gone at this point, all of them moved away, one by one, to other parts of the country, one of which left the country entirely (who is in fact the person who gave me the name for my blog via an e-mail subject sent when he was overseas). Granted, he is back in the states now, living in Boston and coming back to the island in a month or two - whatever, that's not the point. Almost the entire group (or groups) of friends I had are gone and I've lost touch with most of them. Some, I lost touch with before they even left, either due to (haha- go figure) boyfriend problems or other assorted rifts. But no matter what, I have usually regretted losing their friendship, if only because of the good times we shared in the past.

Ex-boyfriends are another source of contemplation, granted some more than others, and even stranger still, are the 'ones who could've been' that still wander across my mind. The ex's and should-have-been-ex's are only occasional or even seasonal sometimes - usually brought on by things I see, hear or smell (yeah, smell - isn't that lovely?) If I smell clove cigarettes in the cold weather, I think of S. If I see a bonfire, I think of N or T. Etc.

Songs are the leading culprit as far as memory triggers for me, as I'm sure they are for many people. Songs have a way of instantly bringing me right back to the time I was listening to it regularly, or when it was being pounded to death on the radio. Many of these can go back to when I was a kid and singing along to Simon and Garfunkle records or listening Queen on the tape deck while playing games on the Commodore 64 with my brother.

Usually what happens is I will hear a song on the radio that I never expect to hear* while driving home for lunch in the middle of the day. Just the other day, Faith No More's "Falling to Pieces"** came on, which I hadn't heard in years. I played this song religiously for a month or so during a particularly troubling time at the tender age of 18, so of course while i was driving home, I was dropped right back there: Lying in bed in my room at mom's, with the door closed, lights out and this song on repeat, dissecting the lyrics. Feeling all of the same discomfort and dread I did at the time over having to make a choice between (haha) my boyfriend and (oops) his best friend.

Even painful times have become fond reflections of emotion I don't wish to relive, but I cherish just the same. The sadness, confusion, even depression of certain times in my life are all interwoven with very important times in my life that I wouldn't give up for anything in the world. All of these events are what made me the way I am today, and for that, I am grateful to the people who may have contributed to these particularly awful times.



When I went to the beach on Tuesday with my friend, Orelinde, from work, I somehow started telling her the story of one summer, seven years ago, and she was a little shocked that I had such drama in my past. My life right now is so mundane in comparison, that it seems hard to believe that there was a long time when I didn't sit still for days. When I did stop moving it was because I was sleeping through entire days. Sleeping through work, sleeping through college finals. Awful.

I told her of a very turbulent time in my life where a certain S, whom I loved rather deeply (without any sort of actual commitment from him), maybe lost his shit a little. I decided to distance myself from S and met MB, which only sent S a little more over the edge. So much so, that he got my brother involved in a messy, bizarre 'intervention' (god, i can still picture it) because someone had started rumors that MB was trying to "take me away from my family". It was a strange, dramatic episode that for years I tried to block out because it was just so awful and embarrassing. In the end, it drove S away to another state, 4 hours away, so that he could get a new start and maybe put his head back together. Which he did, actually, and seems mostly better now than he was then.




Sometimes I wonder if this nostalgic kick I've been on for the past 10 years or so will ever put itself to rest. Sometimes I wonder if that's what I would want. Is it better to forget everything you've been through, or constantly be haunted by the past?



*Owning an XM radio, I get to hear a lot of songs that I never expected to hear again, which is kind of cool, considering that the regular radio plays the same shitty playlist over and over and over again for years and years.

**Shut up. I LOVED Faith No More and was terribly upset that I only got into them shortly before they broke up. Lucky for me, I got to see them on their last tour and bask in the greatness that was Mike Patton. Shut up.

Ouchies.

Yesterday was our company picnic and I had decided months ago that i wasn't fecking going to that shit. It was in New Jersey and about 2 1/2 hours away. I figured, I am not going travel that far to hang out with a bunch of people i don't like if i don't have to, thank you very much.

Wound up going to the beach (with Orelinde from work) on Fire Island, a summery resort type area, off the southern coast of Long Island. It's really a lovely place with beautiful beaches and other summery, resorty things like restaurants, bars, clubs and whatever. Not that i would know anything about that; i've only been to the island twice in my adult life and neither time did i ever go to anything 'fun'. Cause i'm not. Fun. You know.

Uh.. so the beach. Lovely. The area that we went to was completely desolate, save three or four other small groups, made up mostly of fat people. Which is fine, quite frankly. I don't go to the beach for the crowds and other people - if i had my way, they would always be empty and waiting for me to show up. And the fat people? Super - you don' t look at my ass, i won't look at yours. The way it should be. Little, spindly people walking around in pasties can be rather intimidating for the rest of us who would rather go to the beach in full wet-suits if we could. Maybe that's just me.

We were there for a good 5 or 6 hours. Me in my 45 spf sunblock (i'm Italian, but i turn a bright, lobstery shade of red if you leave me out in the sun for a little over 1/2 an hour. it's sad) and orelinde who used something silly, like spf 6. We enjoyed the sun, as it was an unbelievably beautiful, 85 degrees and i even got to swim in the ocean. Lovely, lovely day.

As the afternoon wore on, i could tell she was starting burn, what with the spf 6, but i saw absolutely no change in my electric-white, pasty skin. Hooray for spf 45!

Except, not so much.

I am in so much pain today. It hurts to move my shoulders because my shirt brushes across my back in horrific, scratchy patterns. It hurts to sit, because of the burn on the back of my knees. Putting on a bra this morning was awful, what with the straps and band and ouch. My face has what some people are calling a "healthy glow", ie: RED.

Stupid. Apparently "waterproof" sunblock does not mean, "go swimming in the ocean for 45 minutes. Twice! No worries!" I should have re-applied it, and didn't. It's all my fault and i'm totally paying for it. It hurt to sleep last night.

Also: my face is breaking out from the sunblock i DID put on. YAY! Bright red with a sprinkling of yuck! Pretty!

Hopefully this will fade and look some kind of tan and stop hurting.

But in the meantime, Ouch.

words is fun

Did y'all know that "chicken head" is synonymous with "slut" or "whore"?

I totally didn't. I don't even know why it means that. This one goes over my head.

I learned this is class the other night, making a list (class activity, obviously) of words that represent a certain level of promiscuity in both males and females. You know, things like: slut, whore, hooch, tramp, and man-whore, gigolo, player (or if you're cooler than me, 'playa') and such. Um, also, bird? and chickenhead?

Where the fuck have i been? Chickenhead? Seriously? What does it even mean?? I remember when "village bicycle" was cute and funny. Chickenhead?

Damn, kids today...

It's so damn hot out there. Oh god, so hot, soo so hot.

I've been struggling lately to come up with a full, meaningful post for some reason. I don't know why i even feel like it matters since this thing here is supposed to be for my sole entertainment. But, i read a mess of other blogs and feel jealous sometimes that these other people are able to come up with thought-provoking entries on a daily basis that other people feel the need to come back every day to read and comment. Maybe i'm just super stressed-out lately and feel like i'm being judged in every part of my life. I shouldn't need to feel that way about my blog; it just doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things. Afterall, i have more than enough on my plate right now. Some day i'll have the time and concentration to plan out witty and interesting posts on a daily basis.

----------------

It has been SO HOT here (see, now i'm talking about the weather) in the northeast. I just can't stand it. Today was around 100 degrees F (ur... 38 C?) which is a little warmer than it was yesterday and it will be around the same tomorrow until it f-ing rains tomorrow night and we go back down to the 80's. I can't take it. I thank my lucky stars that i work in an actual office where there is constant, refrigeration-like, air conditioner or else i think i would die. (Um, like my brother... M, i hope you're still alive and haven't melted into a pool on the floor..)

I don't live in Florida. I don't WANT to live in Florida because it's fucking HOT there. Like this. All the time. I couldn't do it. Jonniker was saying awhile ago that she misses the weather in Boston, where the summers are "pleasantly warm". I have to say, Jonna, it's damn hot here. I'm not in Boston, but it's 97 F up there, too. You're really not missing much right now, weather-wise, i swear. And if it really is like this in Florida all the time, i really, really sympathize with you. (I also really, really hope this doesn't sound snotty - it was NOT intended that way......)

The heat has made me a little wonky, this week. I don't have any air conditioner in my car right now because my air compressor needs to be replaced. So my daily drives home at lunchtime to let the dogs out has become sheer torture. I usually hate driving 25 minutes home and back anyway (i have an hour lunch break, it sucks to do this potty-break run), but add the sweating, cursing, agony of baking in my 120 degree car on top of that and you have one pissed-off girl. So today, the dogs suffered without a potty break. THAT'S RIGHT. They're going all day without a pee and quite frankly, they're probably better off. Little Dog works herself into a frenzy on a daily basis now when she goes outside and runs along the fence line. She comes inside and pretty much falls over like an asshole. After that first time i took her to the vet with a heat stroke, i've learned that she's an idiot and will not stop running just because it is hot out. I have to be super careful not to leave her out there too long, else she has another heat-stroke or cooks her pea-sized brain from running herself ragged. Stupid Little Dog.

So instead, they are cuddling up in the air conditioned house, waiting for The Boy to come home from work to let them out. They'll be fine, i'm sure.

----------------------

I have two days left of school. I had to give my last speech yesterday, so that's over with. I actually did really well on it. Shocking, i know. I am so miserably shy and insecure that it is hard, SO HARD to stand up in front of the class and talk for 4 - 6 minutes. Having everyone's attention on me? Painful. Luckily, the visual aid i had prepared was a power point slide show so i was able to turn the lights off in the front of the classroom so that people could see the projection. Speaking for 6 minutes in the dark? Oh, so much easier. I could still see their faces, but wasn't so sure they could see mine. And they were pretty much focused on the pictures, so they weren't really looking at me anyway. *Smart*.

And with that, i'm going to climb into my scortching-hot car and drive to school for my final review.