Maybe, but I'm neither...

I can't remember what they're called...

Bitch Bags?
Slut Sacks?

You know, the bag containing a change of clothes that some girls carry around with them, because they never know when they're going to spend the night out.

Yeah, I have 2 now.

1 with a pair of khakis for work.

1 with jeans and a couple of shirts for after work.

Call it what you will, but I live too far away from work to just pop home and change. If I go out after work, I just might stay the night because chances are that I'm drinking. Additionally, the past couple of Sundays I never made it home from the weekend either. Last week, I just stopped at a store and bought new clothes to wear to work yesterday.

It's a temporary situation until I move. I swear...

I can't concentrate on work this morning. I'm still completely dazed over my weekend. I haven't slept in my own bed since Thursday, I haven't slept more than 5 hours, and I traveled over 500 miles and never left the state. I'll try and post some stories later, but for now I can't stop this mixture of sheer exhaustion and daydreams.

Explanation

You think I'm crazy for this diet I'm on.

However, I'm so close to my goal I can taste it.

I work in Buckhead, for those of you outside of Atlanta-- it's arguably the richest subcity. Everyone walks around looking so damn hot that I feel like I need to keep up with the competition. I lost a lot of weight before I started my job through cutting out fast food and getting on the treadmill, but I'm not athletic looking like everyone else. I want to be the same size I was when I was 21. I have only one more pant size to go.

I've plateaued with my weight loss and the hardest part is losing the last couple of pounds, that's why I've had to step up my routine. I'm consuming about 800 calories a day, taking diet supplements, getting on the treadmill, and I just joined a yoga class. This should help me reach my goal and then some.

I feel fine, I really do.

Here's the kicker. I don't think anyone has noticed. No one has said anything to me about it. I see a huge difference: I forgot how much I hated my hips. There's no fat on them anymore- they'll never get smaller than they are now. I will never be a size 2, my bones just won't allow it. There goes my dancing/ modeling career!

Can't stop shaking

The coffee pot marked "decaf" at work is clearly mislabeled.

Between my diet pills, nervous energy, and 3 cups of "decaf" coffee, I'm about to explode.

That or start running laps around the building. Which would prove difficult in my stiletto heels. I would also look like a lunatic to the people driving by on their way to lunch.

I also can't stop laughing every time I encounter the term "butt joint" in my reading today. This may or may not be related to my caffeine overdose.

Jenny Craig is a fat bitch

The "heart attack" diet seems to be working. I've lost another 3 pounds. Turns out my stomach can't handle the syrup in Red Bull when there aren't any solid foods in there, so I've had to drop that.

I hear many times a week that I'm beautiful, I just don't believe it anymore. Hopefully dropping these last 10 pounds will change my thinking.

This is what happens when you buy Slim Fast from a shady gas station on your way to work

Every time I'd drink a Slim Fast, I'd get severe stomach cramps. You know, the ones that have you laying on the bathroom tile, crying a little. It took me a couple of days to think, 'Hey, maybe something is wrong with the Slim Fast.'

I turned the can over and checked the expiration date.

It was July of 2003.

That was 2 and 1/2 years ago.

It's amazing I'm still alive.

How to have a heart attack in 10 days or less!

Of the last 4 guys I've been out with, 3 of them were not just slim, but had athletic bodies. I usually go for the more "solid" type of body because I've always felt more protected that way. I've never dated anyone with an athletic body before and I have to admit it's kind of sexy.

Except for one crucial element.

I do not have an athletic body.

I'm not overweight; I don't have fat. I'm average: I'm neither skinny nor heavy. I have one more pant size to lose and I'm going to have to do it quickly if my hips continue to be larger than my counterpart's. Because nothing will make you feel bad about yourself than actually being bigger than a boy. The worst part is that it's the last few pounds that are the most difficult to lose. The universe hates you like that.

That's why I'm going to have to up my dieting. I'm already watching what I eat and getting on the treadmill, but it's not enough anymore. This morning I stopped at the store on my way to work and purchased Slim Fast, diet pills, Red Bull, and ginseng. I will lose these last 10 pounds! If my heart doesn't explode first!

Taiwanese Hookers and Portuguese Trees

I put my make up on while driving to work this morning. Normally I'm very adept at this, but today I had blush issues. I now look like a Taiwanese hooker.

Work is either going to make me really smart or really boring, most likely it will be an amalgamation of both. I spend my days researching and learning products forwards and backwards to eventually write about. So I now know A LOT about some pretty random things.

Imagine me at a party: "Oh, is this cork flooring? Did you know cork is made from Portuguese oak trees? They are these huge trees that live for 200-500 years and cork is actually it's bark. Every 9 years they strip the bark off the trees and leave them naked. Doesn't hurt the trees though which is why cork is so environmentally friendly..."

Crowds of people will just walk away from me. "Don't talk to her, she's crazy," they'll whisper. Must find and marry architect...

A rare moment of sincerity

I've received several e-mails recently on this topic, so I thought I would address it publicly. People wanted to know how I got my job, where I looked, and how I decided what I want to do with my life. I like to call this introspective questioning the quarterlife crisis.

We've been out of school for a few years now and those initial jobs we got are breaking down, or maybe we're just realizing it's time to move on and do something better with our lives. It might also be the fear of settling down too soon that has us in the job market again.

The message I want to convey the most is that you are not alone. You are not the only one out of college, losing contacts with old friends, and unemployed or working retail. Unfortunately, there is a stigma attached to this position. We already feel like such wastes of society, we don't want to talk about it for fear that you will also think we're losers. Just last night I got a call from a very old friend who I haven't seen in about 6 years. He had heard what I went through and he's going through it now and- get this- he wanted to talk about it. He said he didn't want to face judgment from his other friends. "I'm pathetic," he whispered.

I actually didn't know if I wanted to talk about my experience or not. I only told one friend what I was going through at the time, and the only reason I told her was because she was also unemployed and couldn't judge me. Did I really want to expose my loserdom? Yes, yes I did. If it means this guy won't feel like I did, then yes I will.


For me, I had geared my entire life towards one point and that point wasn't the right direction for me. Of course, I didn't decide that: God, the powers that be, fate, the four elements- whatever you believe in- decided that for me.

Thanks.

And I know that it wasn't my destination because it wasn't just one thing that fell through. Everything that could have possibly happened to prevent me from meeting my plan happened. It was rough for me for to accept this. I didn't get out of bed for a month. I was the girl in her pjs at four in the afternoon eating a bowl of cereal and watching Oprah. It wasn't pretty.

I ended up in a bookstore one afternoon and in the dollar bin was a book about said quarterlife crisis and I bought it. When I get home, I open up the book and read about the author. She was a perky blonde who's my age living in Washington and working for the White House. This is her second book. "Eff this girl!" I screamed at her picture. She embodies everything I wanted for myself. That girl doesn't know crap about what it feels like to do everything right in life and to stare in the mirror and see a loser. I took a marker out of my night stand and drew all over her face. I'm a courtly lover of books: I won't crack the spine or dog ear the pages. I won't do anything to destroy the pristine beauty of a book; I love them too much to deface them. I drew over her picture like hell. This was how much I hated her. It was very therapeutic.

Every weekday I'd apply for work. I applied for an average of 7 jobs a week in 3 different cities. For 4 freaking months. If being in your current position isn't bad enough, not catching a break in the professional world will put you there.

A lot of people got very worried about me. My parents tried getting me on herbal supplements and made therapy appointments for me that I refused to attend. I stopped calling my friends back because I didn't want to face the question, "Do you have a job yet?" Even though they were my friends, I couldn't talk to them because they could not empathize at all with my position in life. I'd cry every time I spoke to my old roommate who moved away. The first time I saw my friends from college again after I moved away, I burst into tears. I wanted and needed them so much, but I'd literally open my mouth to speak and words wouldn't come out. I just couldn't reach out and tell them.

I muddled through everything alone. I had about 3 diaries that I wrote for me alone- they must be burned unread upon my death. I finally began calling people back and forcing myself out of the house. It turned out that when I reached out, my friends were more than happy to be there for me. My editor for a paper I used to work at helped with rework my resume and I got the very next job I applied for.

And I love it.

I'm moving to a new city where I have some old friends, but I'm also making a lot of new ones. I went out to dinner with some girls from work last weekend. A couple of us were new. One girl leaned over and whispered to me, "How long did it take you to find a job?"

I laughed and said, "Four pathetic months."

She sighed deeply, "Me too. I'm so glad to hear I'm not the only one."

"Me too!"

We looked at the girl next to us, "How long did it take you to get this job?"

She looked down. "Seven months. I was living with my aunt and uncle and working retail before."

We all felt such shame about what we went through to get to our current positions that we couldn't even look at each other while we gave our answers.

I was so happy to hear all of this that later that night when I met people, I'd ask them what they did before they got their current jobs. Mail rooms, forklifts, truck driving: I heard it all. And 100% of these people graduated from a university.

You're unemployed. You're running out of money. It seems like all of your friends have life figured out and doing better than you. You are not alone. I get you, I really do. I think I struggled with it more than most people.

Society won't take our predicament seriously because we're young and supposedly resilient. Unfortunately this is what I think caused the stigma, that you're not supposed to be 25 and unemployed. But it happens more often than you think. It's actually quite common. So chin up, dear unemployed university graduate, the guy taking your money at the gas station just might be your classmate.

Saturday night in bizarro world

I'm out with this guy Saturday night and he and I end up in some bizzaro drinking contest over who can drink the most beer the fastest. I didn't eat all day and matched him drink for drink until the suitcase is gone. This is crucial for the rest of the story:

We essentially get kicked out of our friend's apartment because it got late. I have no idea what time it is, but I'm guessing somewhere between midnight and 1 am. He and I end up walking around the streets of Atlanta with no real destination, both of us being too drunk to understand the other about where we were going. We managed to corner ourselves in a parking lot by the Fox Theatre. When we turn around to try and get out of the parking lot, a panhandler approaches us and begins to ask for some money.

My usually response is to tell him that I don't carry any money on me and just keep walking. I open my mouth to say this but the guy I'm with cuts me off. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his money and picks out a dollar bill, wobbling the entire time. The next events are completely crazy because I had never seen anything like it before in my life.

He tells the panhandler to back up. 2 empty car spaces to be exact. The panhandler doesn't say a word and obliges, moving back 2 car spaces. Then he orders the guy to stand in the corner of the 3rd space. Once again he silently obliges. The guy I'm with then takes the dollar bill, throws it on the ground for the panhandler and turns and walks away.

I can't believe he just did that. I can't believe I just saw him throw the money on the ground for the panhandler to pick up. I start apologizing for the guy I'm with and try to walk over to pick the money up. "What are you doing?!" he shouts at me and yanks me along with him. I resist and try to go back to the panhandler and the guy just grabs me and begins to run. I'm stumbling to keep up and shout back over my shoulder, "I'm sorry he's so rude, I would have handed you the money!"

And then he and I laugh uncontrollably over what just happened. I don't know why we were laughing, but I've never been in that situation before in my life, it was a complete alien experience for me. When we got back to his place, he explained things to me. In the end I think he was right, we weren't in that great of a situation: we were drunk and cornered in an empty parking lot late at night. I still can't believe he just threw the money on the ground like that.

See Jamie rock. Rock, Jamie, rock.

I am always a bit superstitious about Friday the 13th, usually because I end up crying for one reason or another. Typically these aren't great days for me. Speeding tickets, job loss: it's just plain ugly.

Except today.

I am having one of those perfect days. I was able to zip up a pair of pants that I haven't been able to wear in 2 years, officially dropping me another pant size. I left the house 7 minutes late, but arrived at work 10 minutes early. The rain didn't start until I was already inside and subsided briefly during my lunch hour. I got my first paycheck from my new job and it was $50 more than I was expecting. The bank was able to put the money immediately in my account so I can pay my credit card bill on time this afternoon. My plans to go out tonight are confirmed.

Today rocks.

Why I love R Kelly's "Trapped in the Closet"

Looks like I'm not the only one reading into "Trapped in the Closet!"

I want to clarify that, although there is a lot to read into it, I don't think R Kelly intended any of the subtexts. I think these are either stirrings of unconscious desires or someone else gave him the story line to write about. I do, however, believe the lyrics are his.

Never before have I heard, "Pull back the sheets/ Oh my God, a rubber" in an opera. No one else can convey finding a condom as idiotic to the point of hysterics eloquently as him. The lyrics make the whole concept of the R&B opera to me. I would LOVE to bring this over to a friend's house and watch it while having a few drinks. It would be hysterical to see their expressions when R Kelly sings about a midget defecating himself.

I actually looked through this guide the other day on somethingawful.com. It's a funny as the opera and clearly demonstrates the insanity of the lyrics. Allow me to provide you with a sampling:

Identify the character who spoke each of these lines:

1. "That's right, nigger, I was there."
2. "Something is rotten in the state of Denmark."
3. "God, please don't let this man open the closet."
4. "Don't give me that mack shit please."
5. "Oh my goodness, I'm about to climax."

I knew it was a Shakespearian tragedy! Just the one question clearly portrays the nature of both the opera and the cliff notes. I'm convinced everybody needs this in their lives.

So tired, must blog

It's way past my bedtime, but I seriously need to put something up here.

I've been watching R Kelly's R&B opera, "Trapped in the Closet." It's actually pretty good. Not the music, but the plot is fairly Shakespearian and it has some great themes and subtexts. It's easy to pick apart and get at what he really is trying to convey.



Stop laughing. I'm a nerd. I get it.

It happened already...

See? This is what happens when I work, my blog becomes really lame really quickly. I love my new job. I finished that reference manual Thursday afternoon and then I began the work that I will actually be doing. When I tell people that I'm a tech writer, they look at me like I said cosmetology on cadavers or something equivalent. You think it's boring; I'm in my element. It's different from publishing, but it's writing just the same and I'm happy.

However, I don't know about them trusting me with writing legal binding contracts. I know I'm just going to end up in court one day, testifying "When I wrote 'Insert tab A into slot B,' I really meant, 'Please put this together correctly so the building won't collapse and people won't die.'"

No! He's just a frog!

I haven't made any friends at work yet, my head has been in this damn book. I'm halfway through and am already contemplating jamming a pen in my aorta. It's not that bad. It's just reading a lot of legal codes. Lawyers do this too, although they get paid a hell of a lot more. But it's slow and therefore tedious. I am learning: I am able to look and legal contracts and understand them now, instead of thinking it's gibberish.

I did meet one guy, however. Unofficially. I was walking down the hall and he rounded a corner quickly and we collided. Just like in the movies. I got up and looked at my prince in the eyes... and did a double take.

He's quite possibly the ugliest guy I've seen in awhile. His eyes bulge out of his head like some damn disease. Not only that, but his eyes are also swollen and red. I'm actually embarrassed I did the double take, I wonder if he knows why I did it. I'd hate to think that he saw that I was repulsed by seeing him. What a devastating thought... to think that people did that when they looked at you.

I feel really bad about it, but, I swear, it was a physical reaction. I had no control over it. But now I'm prepared for next time when I know what's coming.

But you're getting paid!

Had my first day of work today. I walked in and my boss showed me my cubicle told me to bring in my things to make it my own space. She then disappears and returns with a textbook, and tells me to read it and get back to her in a few days when I'm done.



It's about 800 pages of the construction process. These aren't Harry Potter pages either. It's not terribly interesting, but I am also learning a lot so they counteract each other.

My eyes hurt as they crossed and uncrossed and crossed again throughout my 8 hours of reading. I'm going to have to find a new hobby this week because I'm sure as hell not picking up another book.

If I see one more of these, I'm going to rip my hair out

I remember hearing a couple of months ago that Fantasia is illiterate. I was going to write a post on how unimaginable that is. How can you get to your mid-twenties and not read? What about TV and billboards? Wouldn't you pick it up through osmosis?

But too much time has passed and I let the subject drop, now that it's old news. Until I was in Borders last week, AND SAW AN EFFING BOOK WITH HER NAME ON THE COVER AND HER NAME AS THE AUTHOR. WTF?!?! How does someone WHO CAN'T READ get a book deal? I know plenty of people who go through schooling and spend close over $100k to get an MFA and then still struggle to get book deals. I am a published writer, but not on a work of fiction, which I'm currently working on. Bloody Fantasia has a book...

I had to restrain myself at the bookstore. I had to fight the urge to pick up the book and just effing go at it and rip it apart.

NYE 2005

Ompf.

I went to a party last night and the last thing I coherently remember was a guy walking into the party with a bottle of Jagermeister under one arm and a bottle of Goldschlager under the other. Three of us who had graduated from college surrounded the bottle of Goldschlager and stared at it.

"I haven't had that since college."
"Me either."
"Me either."
"It's been 3 or 4 years for me."
"It's been 5 or 6 years for me."
"It's been at least 8 years for me."
"Well, shall we?"

I know I had a great time last night, but the details are a bit fuzzy. I was aware enough to count backwards from 10 and get my New Year's kiss, but that was basically it. With that, I'm going back to bed to recover and will leave you with drunken photos:





Paige, I put the fuzzy photo in there just for you. To keep things consistent.