Caterwauling

*updated*

Dave outed me … as a quirkyalone.

Before I launch into it, be sure to buy me some “bitter”-themed candy for Valentine’s Day at Despair.com. I think the “Dejected” set fits me more than the “Dysfunctional,” although I’m willing to listen to any argument (and eat the damn candy) if the latter seems more appropriate!

Anyway, back to the Quirkyalone personality type:

I honestly have little to add, other than the fact that the book is already on my Amazon Wish List. 🙂

The search for a kindred — clearly a fellow quirkyalone — has proven an exhaustive field trip through a labrynth of false starts and dramatic (sometimes premature, but always inevitable) endings.

My theory on dating is simple: I’d rather be alone than wish I were. Even at the time of year when coupledom is especially celebrated (New Year’s Eve, Valentine’s Day), it’s not that I’m thrilled to be alone, but rather, I’m glad I’m not with the wrong person. I’ve been with the wrong person. And I’m pretty impatient on that front — it’s impossible to pretend that all is well just for the sake of having someone to do things with (although simply having someone to DO has enough benefits in and of itself to make it somewhat worthwhile!).

I was thinking of having an anti-Valentine’s Day party (and dressing in black, as is my tradition), but I am surrounded by married or otherwise committed couples. Bleah. I’ve never really been the one who is half of a couple yet surrounded by single friends. It’s historically been the exact opposite. And you can get really tired of the well-meaning people who want to fix you up with someone or who otherwise lecture you that you need to get “out there” in the dating field. Most of it stems from the fact that, if they’re happy in a couple, well, you should be too (not an unreasonable sentiment, but a frustrating one nonetheless). And as the biological clock is smacked into snooze alarm phase for yet another undefined period of time, you wonder what you’re waiting for. But then you date someone who clearly ISN’T “The One” and you’re reminded of why you took a dating hiatus in the first place.

To make this personal, I have a really low body image, so I really don’t feel comfortable going out to bars to meet people when I’m surrounded by anorexic types in titty tops. Trust me, all eyes are on them bobbing around the dance floors. And when I meet somebody who piques my interest, I figure that they could never be interested in me, even though I have probably achieved more in the past 10 years than they ever will in a lifetime. Not to mention, but I’ve been told that I come across as a real airhead when I first meet people (said by someone who was clearly NOT The One).

But I’m not always wallowing in neurosis. The other side of me (I’m a Gemini, for those who are looking for an explanation of my wide range of mood swings!) figures, why the hell wouldn’t someone want me? I have a good (although frustrating) job, I have a social life, I’m not the slightest bit clingy and I’m very much of the attitude of showing you to the door if you think something better is outside of it. Damn it, I should be nominated for Woman of the Year, when I think about it! 😉

I just figure that this isn’t my time to shine. But when will that day come? When I stop looking to find that other quirkyalone whose quirks mesh with mine. But after I’ve spent nearly three decades collecting and refining those quirks that make me so lovably me, where on earth do you start (or continue) looking for someone who will respect, and ultimately complement, those idiosyncrasies? And will I learn to fall in love with their own quirks, or have I truly become the person I want to marry? 😉

UPDATE: Tink reminded me about the quiz results. Here goes:

“How quirkyalone are you? Your score was 125. Very quirkyalone:

Relatives may give you quizzical looks, and so may friends, but you know in your heart of hearts that you are following your inner voice. Though you may not be romancing a single person, you are romancing the world. Celebrate your freedom on National Quirkyalone Day, February 14th!”

*updated*

So Cruise Director sends out this long e-mail today, kind of like a presidential State of the Union address. He asked us for ideas to increase our membership. Both Shan and I, in offices across the building from each other, started mentally ticking off ideas, but then we each stopped in mid-thought and went, “Eh. Fuck it. They wouldn’t listen anyway.” The joke arose that he should have just told us, “Give us ideas so we can ignore them.”

So much for my positive attitude. Heh.

Met with my supervisor today. As usual, the meeting occurred 40 minutes after the planned start time. I finally told her that my time is just as valuable as anyone else’s, and if I have to be in meetings, then I want them moved to a different day. She looked stunned but complied. We actually went on to have a good talk about various issues that have been rather demoralizing lately, and she checked in about various things that she knows I have been internalizing. I was rather impressed.

Toilet Town is still in chaos. I went downstairs today to the very clean restroom (so. unlike. ours), and I guess Queen Pooper was in there, because in the accessible stall, someone sat very silently with her pants around her ankles until I finished my business and left. That’s how I know it’s her — she can’t void her bowels until the room is empty, and she won’t show her face till everyone’s gone. But the shoes always give her away. That, and the trail of skunk funk she leaves behind. …

UPDATE: Apparently Fudge CAN use any toilet. I had to use the restroom shortly after the last visit (evil Diet Cokes), and damn it if I didn’t think and went into *her* stall, whereupon she had left a lovely truffle surprise in the bowl. Yech. I hate her.

Rejected title: Idiot parade

OK, so our restrooms are being renovated here on the second concentric layer of hell floor. We have been asked to use the restrooms downstairs. This is not an instruction that is difficult to comprehend.

However. …

I sit near the men’s room. The workers placed a strip of masking tape across the door, ostensibly to warn people to stay out. The tape is, heightwise, about where my forehead is. Now, knowing I work with the living dead, you probably won’t be surprised to hear how many people went into the restroom anyway, despite this little barricade (the workers don’t speak much English, so I am not surprised that they didn’t put up a “Do Not Enter” sign, although it probably wouldn’t have been effective either). I just had visions of someone walking into the tape and coming out and walking around with the tape flying from his forehead, like a marathon runner crossing a finish line. Or, like Angie put it, like a mayor cutting a celebratory ribbon. That’s one way to identify the crown idiot of the day — we can name him the Mayor of Toilet Town!

The problem got so bad yesterday that, in addition to the strip of masking tape over the door, the workers had to put an additional seven strips across and one strip vertically down the center, just to keep the morons away. Proof positive that we do NOT hire the best and the brightest ’round here.

Shan sits across from the ladies’ room. The Queen Pooper (or Fudge, you know, the fucknugget who wipes her ass on the seat) tried four times in one hour to access the throne room, but every time, it was being worked on (a memo DID go out to this effect). She stormed away in a huff every time. I suppose she just can’t shit anywhere else — maybe Shan can give her one of Alex’s diapers to tide her over till the renovations are done!

Yep, we’re back to dressing up for work. As usual, it was like stuffing ten pounds of ass into a five-pound bag of pantyhose. *sigh* It should be illegal to wear anything other than sweatpants during December and January.

I just got the funniest letter to the editor. This asshole apparently sent a letter in last month, criticizing an article that was not mine (whew!), and I didn’t run it (space reasons, friends). Well, he sends a new letter demanding that I explain the exact criterion for choosing letters (because I ran a letter praising the same article he hated). He made a snarky remark that clearly I don’t print critical letters. Hah! Did he miss the three pages of letters to the editor in the latest issue that slammed me for writing a profile of a sex offender? Are people HIGH when they decide to e-mail me?!?!

OK, so I am broker than broke, but I paid rent today. And Mom gave me the money to pay my car insurance this month, so I won’t have my policy suspended again for another late payment. Hurrah! It’s amazing how well I can breathe when my major worries are taken care of. The problem is, they’re done for the month and will creep up again in way too short a time.

I’m trying so hard to keep that fresh feeling about the New Year being a clean slate and a time for new beginnings. Angie and I decided, though, that maybe we should just look at Chinese New Year as our new year later this month — it’s too hard right now to be peaceful and positive and all goal-setting and shit when we’re all stressed out from being poor and tired from holidays that were anything but. I swear, most of us need a vacation to recuperate from this recent holiday season!

In any event, I am not starting any resolutions till Chinese New Year. Really, I think that’s a brilliant idea on our parts — the problem with resolutions in general is that you make them, fully intending to start/stop doing something on a day (Jan. 1) that is simply a continuation of the previous day (Dec. 31), not a brand new day, in and of itself. I mean, how do you quit smoking on Jan. 1, when you were puffing like a fiend at 11:57 p.m. on New Year’s Eve? And it’s pointless to say, “I’m going to eat more healthily or I’m going to consume less alcohol or I’m going to act my age” when you’ve got a plateful of Sweet Lebanon bologna (nods to Shawn) and a fridgeful of leftover cookies/snacks (looks in mirror) and a lampshade on your head (*looks innocent*) when the ball hits Times Square and champagne glasses start clinking.

As for me, be it resolved that I will quit smoking when I turn 30. But because I shall remain 29 for at least the next five years, I’ve got PLENTY of time to stop! *wink*

Just spent two nights in Pittsburgh (totally unexpected jaunt) and lots of nights on the couch. Ergh. Just took one of my remaining Percocet to soothe my aching back.

On Friday, I spent 12 solid hours driving. No kidding. I was so lost in D.C., and I drove straight into a cop trap. A cop looked in my car and decided to let me through, but he did pull aside the Middle Eastern man in front of me. *whew* Like I had time to waste. The drive back was about five hours or so — through torrential downpours in three states and fog thicker than the smoke in my apartment during any given party. I was able to unwind this evening wtih Shawn, though, for the newest episode of “Sex and the City.”

How I spent my New Year: eating, boozing, chain-smoking and sitting my ass in the car for another whirlwind trip. If how you ring in the New Year is truly the indicator of how the rest of your year is going to go, then I will be in a whirlwind motion for the rest of 2004. Even when I sleep, I feel like I’m moving — I dream about driving and my legs and arms are constantly twitching.

Kadi managed to trash the house during the 48 hours I was AWOL. What the hell IS it with her and ripping everything off the fridge and countertops? Although I must admit she has been adorable with fetching coffee stirrers. She is one of the rare cats who plays fetch, and stirrers are her new favorite toys.

*yawn* Percocet is kicking in. Work starts tomorrow — I hope the warm, fuzzy “It’s a new year — hurrah! I’m going to make big changes” feeling doesn’t dissipate the second I drag my ass into that building sometime around 9 a.m.

And it ain’t over yet.

Executive summary:

1. Shannon got into a car accident on the way to meet Leslie and me for breakfast.

2. We saw four car accidents on the way out of Crystal City. One of the accidents involved a nurse who works at the emergency care center Shan went to to have her injuries checked.

3. My directions to Union Station from Mapquest were WRONG so Leslie missed her bus.

4. Amtrak didn’t have anything timely leaving either; thus

5. I am going to be heading to Pittsburgh.

See you when I get back.

Jesus H.

I have put on 14 pounds since HALLOWEEN! Holy fucking Christmas, no wonder I can’t fit into anything.

After I got out of the hospital in September, I put on 15 pounds from the I.V. fluids alone. Tons of cranberry juice later, I took off the weight and then some, and I bought a bunch of skirts in a smaller size. Now, I am wearing my “big” clothes, and even they are squeezing the damn stuffing out of me. Fuck.

Had a lovely New Year’s party at Bryan and Paul’s yesterday. They made the most amazing spareribs, kielbasa and sauerkraut, garlic potatoes, etc. And, of course, there was a divine chocolate cream cake from Whole Foods for dessert. Not to mention an unlimited supply of wine. I felt like one of those old Weebles, sitting on the couch, leaning over in a weird mixture of ecstasy and agony.

I have a veritable shitload of leftovers from my party in the fridge. I have the makings for at least another 60 pigs in a blanket, about 400 crackers’ worth of my cheddar/bacon/horseradish dip and enough cookies to make the entire country of Ethiopia obese.

This, my friends, is why I find it IMPOSSIBLE to have New Year’s resolutions. You just can’t start them on Day One — you just have to make a commitment to move toward not eating (and cooking!) like the world’s about to end and you must hide rations in your little bomb shelter (only in Dawn’s bomb shelter, you will be bombed … with the full bar of alcohol and boxes of wine I have ready!)

Unrelated, I can’t believe I’m up and showered at this hour. Leslie and I didn’t leave Bryan and Paul’s till after midnight (hours after everyone else departed) and we stayed up till at least 2 a.m., talking about the book for which Leslie will kick my ass if I don’t write. 🙂 She leaves today, which is such a bummer, because I have had loads of fun. We only see each other around the holidays (although if I ever hit the lottery, I will meet her in Dublin, Ireland, post-haste!), but even she said it — it’s like no time has even passed since the last time we hung out.

It was really a wonderful New Year’s. Truly awesome. We called our mutual friend Chris in Minnesota (who introduced us), and it was ridiculously nice to have that connection among all of us again (even though I was cooking/cleaning like a madwoman and couldn’t stay on the phone long). Things change so much from year to year, and we’re not all as close as we like to be, but the love all we have for each other never really reduces in its intensity. That’s comforting to have, in this crazy world. And I am lucky to be surrounded by amazing people at (nearly) all times.

May your new year be as bright as mine is shaping up to be! *clinks glasses, even if it’s only a coffee cup*

Leslie and I just woke up and are nursing some Starbucks Christmas blend coffee and watching the “I Love the ’80s Strikes Back” marathon.

Party went perfectly. I’ll post photos at a later time. This was Kadi’s first party not being caged, and she behaved rather well, although Shawn kept scaring the shit out of her with my various noisemakers and horns.

At midnight, we drank lots of champagne and ran out onto my balcony with our noisemakers. We were whooping and shouting and, well, waking up the neighborhood. The parking lot was overflowing as usual, but NOBODY was awake!!! We were the only people outside, and of course, the only apartment that was all lit up. Heh. Yep, all the crazy drunks congregate under my roof, and we love every minute of it!

Bryan and Paul have invited us over for the traditional pork festival — you know, good luck and all (which we all need desperately!). Of course, they had their own little pork festival in my bathroom shortly after midnight — damn it, I can’t believe I wasn’t the first person to have sex (with a partner, let’s make that clear!) in my own apartment!!!

In any event, I’m tired and must return to the coffee pot. How was YOUR New Year? Hope it was a splendid one!