These are my pants. They are ranting.

Shut 'em down open up shop

Can I get a witness?

Looks like I'm shuttin' up shop on the beav.   gotta find a way to archive all this stuff and get movin' on.

It's been great.   It really has.  Writing on the beav has given the goblin writer in me the opportunity to semi anonymously share my feelings, expell my rants, blather about poop and sex, and make connections with people I wouldn't have otherwise.  Blogging is a powerful tool and it's something I plan to do as long as I can type or record video.  OR audio.   Or paste in pictures :-)

I'm actually moving to a much less anonymous world.   I want to continue logging my life so I have something to look back on - so if I ever have kids even they can see what life was like for me back when I was young.   That's one thing I wish my grandparents and parents had been able to do -- keep a good honest log of what their life was like.   anyway, I hope you've enjoyed reading this as much as i've enjoyed writing this.   

If you want to keep up with my really not that exciting life, please leave a comment including your email address -- I'll send you the link to the new stuff!

Where do I start, where do I begin?

Today was a day I plan to only have one of.   Factor woke me up at 8:00am and asked "do you want to get up?"  i slopped and slobbered, I felt the awake feeling behind my eyes - and then I felt the pillow and I thought "fuck it, I'm sleeping"  so I said "yup" and he left the room.   So I fell back to sleep.

Around 930AM I felt like I had to pee.  so I got up, peed.  And while peeing I thought "stay up, don't go back to sleep".   so, I got off the toilet, went into my room, and went back to sleep.

Around 11:30AM I felt like I had to pee, but I denied it.  And stayed in bed until 12:55.   At 1:00PM I checked my email.  And now, I'm looking at the clock and realizing that I've only been up for 4 and a half hours.  This is not something I like.  i don't want to sleep so late again.   I had plenty to do, and I have plenty to do still to prepare for my little sister's arrival in NYC - but I don't know, I guess I just felt I could stay in bed that long. 

So much for contemplating my place in this world and my path in it.

The unsinkable taste..

I'm debating on whether or not I should have a bowl of cheerios or take a nap.

exhibit a: the always predictable uterus

Right.  So.   Yes.

I'm thinking of a great pro-uterine, get a grip campaign.   What do you think?

• Deeply introspective and unable to find anything at Bed, Bath, and Beyond?  Could  be your uterus.
• Seeing white spots of anger when your boyfriend/man/whatevs walks BY you instead of touching you upon passing? Could be your uterus.
• RAcing thoughts of YOU DON'T WANT ME HERE SO I'M GOING TO FLIP OUT AND WATCH TV ON THE COUCH AT MIDNIGHT!!"?  Could be your uterus.
• Velveeta Shells and Cheese with a bottle of PInot Grigio sounding really good right now?  Could be your uterus?
• Feel like you have to poop... but you don't?  Could be your uterus.

That's right kids, one of the most annoying organs (or storage compartments) in the female body is a confusing, complicated, and cranky thing.  Sometimes, when you think you're failing life, you're really hungry for falafel, you can't find clothes that fit, you're suddenly very ugly, no one loves you, and that you a fat jackass -- it's really just your uterus talking.   

It is important during these times NOT to:

• send that awful bear trap text message
• push your boyfriend/man/whatevs in bed and ask "do you even want me here?!"
• go to bebe
• walk past bars
• try on that bathing suit again
• look under your boyfriend/man/whatevs kitchen sink

Together, by ignoring the blats of anger and unreal emotion hooted out by the uterus every 20 days, we can make this uterine world a safe place

*brought to you in part by Partners for a happy utey*

My bleeding heart

... or almost bleeding uterus.   Perhaps you should never move in with someone on the cusp of PMS.   It's the only thing I can think of that would put me in such a grump mood beginning last night when I got home from dinner with friends.   I won't go into it here because that wouldn't be right.   But needless to say, today I woke up in a horrible mood, I'm over analyzing myself and everything around me, and I'm actually mad that it's sunny out.   I'm frantic about the second move, mainly because no progress at all has been made on Factor's end of camp.  There is SO much work to be done.   I'm willing to help, but I need to see some sort of effort on his end.   See how overanalytical I'm being?  It's TUESDAY people, we just moved me in on FRIDAY NIGHT and already I'm like "dude, what have you been doing this whole time!??" and it's been TWO DAYS into the week.   

Yes, I must chill.   Dinner plans cancelled on me last night, which was fine because then I was able to go to the Upper West and eat yummy chicken pesto pasta and vino with my newly acquired other-side neighbors.   But today, my dinner plans got cancelled also.   And it's freaking me out.   Because then I'm thinking, what the hell am I supposed to do during the evening when Factor goes to the gym... and then he'll come home when  he's used to coming home to silence and nothing and there I'll be?   It's freaking me out.   i just need to relax and accept that I'm not the only one who has to adjust... I need to not FEAR his adjustment.   I actually need to let him experience the adjustment or we're never going to react to each other.   Moving in together is complicated, ain't it.

I also need to admit to myself that it's not going to be EASY for me to spend hours on end by myself with myself.   I need to get really comfortable with myself and learn how to just be - without filling my time with dinners, lunches, movies, and shopping - otherwise, I'm going to be really poor, really fat, and a total life failure. 

And who needs that?

nomad means yeshappy

Miss me?   I'm sure you do!   So what the himminy haw has been going on in the life of beav?  Why the brief hiatus?   Was I hit by a cab (no, but someone in my proximity was)?   Have I had surgical augmentation on my hands rendering me incapable of typing out my blog?   Nope.   I moved.   And I'm moving.   Moving, isn't it.   I think I love bullets (the punctuation kind, not the puncturing kind) because I live my life in bullets.   It's chock full of these staccato spits and sparks that land me here and there and punt me from here and there.   And each tiny black beat bounces me closer to where I'm meant to be.   Maybe fate was born in a bucket of bullets.    Heretofore, henceforth, and such that if you will... I would like to sum up my last ohhhhh three days in, you guessed it... my friend, the bullet:

• We rented a Uhaul "van" to cart my life from the West Village to the East 60's.   That van wasn't even completely filled to the brim when we left my place.   My life currently fits into less than the back of a conversion van.   
• We returned the van on time with minutes to spare, negating the 70 buck "we know you won't have this back on time" fee.   The boy was the driver... you know what, f that, I'm using his name - I always have to go the extra step and erase and replace with "the boy" and it's becoming tedious.  Factor was in charge of winding through rush hour traffic, and he got us to his place safely and then skirted off to return the van.   Thus leaving two hot chicks in charge of the rest of the move.   all I have to say is, I know some sturdy ass chicks.   Under those blond exteriors are monsters of moving.   
• Imagine, if you will, a land where only few surfaces get cleaned in 6 years.   Surfaces that don't get cleaned within those 6 years are:
  • the top of the bathroom garbage can, now hosting its own ecosystem
  • the tops of pots - one is currently soaking a 6 year old cooked in film of funk in the kitchen sink
  • the kitchen sink: hell, if you wash in it, it must be clean, right?
  • the counter top behind the kitchen sink.   I heard myself say "see, Factor, it's not supposed to be black..."
  • window sills: see quote above
• I am sitting, listening to the rain, and by biggest worry today is whether or not factor is going to be freaked out that I'm here when he gets home from work.   I plan to hunt down a movie to go see (by myself! if you can believe that!) so that I'm not sitting in the same position he left me in
• I am kept breakfast honest.   In my yet to be published next blog, I plan on chronicalling, with Factor, this new life.   I will be including measurement of my body (because I'm tired of being a chubber and I need the humiliation to motivate me) as well as what the hell I'm eating to delete the chub.   One thing I WILL be eating is breakfast, and factor was good enough to wake me up this morning to see if i wanted sleep or breakfast.   i actually woke up to eat.   And I'm still up
• Waking me up in the morning will keep me from a day of woe is me bed time all day.   If I continue to get up with Factor when he goes to work, I will NOT lie in bed all day contemplating my place on this earth.  Instead, I'll actively hunt it.

That's it for now.   I plan to update -- but be aware, I'll be moving elsewhere online.   I will share with my trusted crew and then I guess it's up to the rest of you to find me.

Some advice, unsolicited

Don't listen to Arcade Fire to cheer yourself up -- it's actually a desperate hurty sound.

Tick tick tick tick...

That's the sound of my independent single employed woman countdown.   Ok ok, I can still be independent, but the truth of the matter is, I'm going to be sharing my space beginning June 1.   Man.  That is freaking me out.   My whole life is going to change in a 24 hour period.   Right now, I'm avoiding packing my room up.   Maybe I'll start with the XBOX, I'll just put the controllers in the box, and look, I've got a box packed!

I'm too little

One day the boy said to me "you are too little to be this angry".   He said this after my very inconsiderate roommate left a note asking the rest of us to be tidy (mind you, she leaves shit shadows in the toilet, her hair [even the crinkies] is everywhere, she never takes out the trash, she doesn't unload the dishwasher, and her towels smell like 100 year old donkey scrotum).

Today is another one of those days where the complete thankless actions are making me see white spots I'm so irate.   And it's little things.   Little things that are so stupid and so petty and so thoughtless and so bullshit that are making me absolutely red with rage.

Blunderwear

I bought the most annoying underwear.  It's annoying the crap out of me.  The GAP continues to fail me at every corner now.   Who puts a seam up the front of a chick's drawers?  Hi, let's force the ole toe.

annoying.