the seatbelt light is on, we will be landing in a moment

So I'm trying not to smirk, but it's nice to win the war of insanity, let me tell you. I'm in a bit of a holding pattern, but that's ok. I will bear witness, trust me. A few more months of mediocrity and then prepare for the deluge. Or perhaps not quite so spectacular. Either way, dawn awaits.

a blog about a sandwich

I had a banging sandwich today. Elsie's Subs, 74 Monmouth Street, Red Bank, NJ 07701. A "hot shot". Salami, pepperoni, cappicola, provolone, lettuce, tomato, onion, salt, pepper, hot peppers, oil and vinegar on a hero. That was the highlight of my day. I am a wild son of a bitch.

no title today

I've observed in the later part of my three decades here, that I am fortunate to have experienced grief. Damn skippy.

Grief depression ecstasy indifference desolation bliss fury

The pivot points of my life are based on emotional breakthroughs. I lost one of my very best friends and went on a three year bender. I fell madly in love and temporarily lost my mind. I gave up control finally and quieted my mind. I often joke that people who don't experience loss, don't have conflicts, those are the ones in the clock tower with the pump-action. In that proud ignorance I held myself to an unrealistic and false level of enlightenment. I live at a heightened level of stress, praising myself for being so witty and cynical, so well informed, and all the while I haven't the slightest clue of true strife. Living every day like it's me against the idiots and I'm holding it all together and then I hit a speedbump. Now I have REAL LIFE RIGHT HERE IN MY FUCKING FACE. It's going to be alright, but I'm such an overreactor. I'm torturing Mike with so many irrational thoughts and anxiety, I'm annoying myself. I hate not being the boss of me.
On the hand, maybe I just need to refocus my lens. Hello world.

the rhythm of her beating heart was the only indication

I find myself identifying with songs in ways that don't coincide with the lyrics. U2 "Sometimes You Can't Make it On Your Own" is that song for me right now. I was a long time fan and then it faded when the political undertones became less subtle, but this song is just perfectly haunting and melancholy for my mood.

I'm going through a thing right now. I've been in the Army, active duty, since November 9, 1996. I was in the Reserve before that from November 22, 1994. I was 17. I went from Catholic School in the Bronx to renting my own apartment, married in Hinesville, Georgia in less than 2 years. I've been to a few handfuls of countries. Fucked, drank, and sang all over the world.

I've always been unique. Always a little drowsy. I've fallen asleep walking, talking, eating, driving, and of course, fucking. I have extremely vivid dreams. I lurch awake sometimes, confused. I have to ask my sister if we had a particular conversation because I'd swear it happened.

I went to the doctor. I've put on a bit of weight this year. I had a little depressed period. I thought some blood work would tell me what was awry.
"You should get a sleep study to see if you have apnea."

No apnea.

"Practice better sleep hygiene." "Stop being so lazy." "Drink more coffee. "

New doctor

"Go get a sleep study and a slep latency test."

Holy fuck you have narcolepsy.

"OK, here's what we're gonna do. You can't drive for at least the next month because now we know you might nod off and here's some medication that makes you feel like you want to puke all day. Have fun. And, oh by the way, you can't stay in the military because alertness is mildly important."

The neat thing, however, is the concept of a fresh start. I have to try to remember what I wanted to do/ be 10 years ago.
Of course the boyfriend has been exceptional. He's a miracle. Outstanding in the sack as well. Ridiculous, isn't it?

Today unlike no other

This day is new. I'm the same as I was yesterday, and yet different because now I'm defined by a label. My doctor (one of the few wonderful military doctors) validated my instincts. I've always had waking issues, as opposed to sleeping issues. I got to stay at a great hospital a few weeks ago and now I am narcoleptic.
Holy shit right?
Is, Hun, am I your first? Please say yes. :)
The timing was fucking impeccable. I'm not allowed to drive (although I am), and I'm awaiting the verdict on my employment status. They'll take care of me, so I'm not too worried, however my malicious, devil's harem of a command couldn't give a shit, the fuckers.
I'm so very melodramatic. However, the boyfriend- amazing. Absogoddamlutely afuckingmazing. Now all I have to worry about is paying my bills. Good times.

New commenting

I just installed haloscan commenting, but it didn't fucking warn me that the old comments would be deleted. Bastards. I like reading comments. That's why they're there.

Who said honesty was the best policy is a naive idiot :)

I was reading the New York Postthis afternoon and this was brought to my attention in the style section. I don't even know how to explain the rash of giggling that began. Haute indeed.


Also, I try to eat with health in mind so I frequent s few local organic groceries. I've noticed an alarming trend of the direct relation of "trendy macrobiotic/vegan/ raw foodist" to the increasing girth of their vehicle. I thought all the wackadoo greenies were supposed to be environmentally conscious as well. I guess you can maintain your social status only if you ride in an BMW X5 at the same time. I'm dabbling in the veg world myself but I'm not ridding myself of leather shoes anytime soon. Call me a heathen.

my indentured servitude

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"hindsight is 20/20"... and other stupid cliches...

For anyone who has lived in San Antonio, there is a great grocery store chain by the name of HEB. Talk about a food experience. There's a magnificent wine/liquor selection, all kinds of fresh prepared dishes, and it's all clean and shiny, very much unlike New Jersey. I lived in San Antonio for about 5 months in 2003, and visiting this utopia was one of my favorite after-class activities. That and going to Starbucks at 8 am on Sundays in my pajamas.
Life was very simple. Press my uniform, show up to formation on time, study while half asleep, and drink as much as I impossibly could hold down.
This was all pre-awesomest boyfriend and super-dog, but damn it was easy. I wish I had savored it a little more, took a few more pictures. I don't want to be "there" again- in the mindset , that is. It was definitely a transition time for me emotionally. It was a memorable experience for sure. I'd have my first gin-tonic on my 26th birthday on the Riverwalk, float down the Guadalupe River in a drunken fog, witness a man fall two stories and mostly walk away(?). I wouldn't trade that shit for anything.

good times...

gettin' bloggy with it

Hello there. Been sooooo busy with hating work, haven't felt very expressive. However, I have made some fascinating observations. There is a movie theater in my 'hood. I live in an "urban area" if you will. Said movie theater is a multiplex, the Amboy Multiplex Cinemas, to be exact. I drive by it twice a day, on my way to and from the fantasy that is my job. I've noticed on numerous occasions that they have definitely made an error in the selection of the "guy who spells the shit out" on the billboard. The most recent submission was "Hicth". Nice. I need photographic proof.

fuckin' a right

Hello there, bloggety blogsters. I'm back from the pool of congestion I was drowning in but a few painfully long days ago. Hating my job more than ever, of course. I hate sales, all the guys I work with are pompous jackasses. I didn't know one person could blow quite so much smoke up his own ass. Oh my fucking god.I think my fake enthusiasm was convincing. Pthtbb.


--oh yeah, btw, Hitler and I are not "dawgs" or anything, frightningly insane people fascinate me and I've always wanted to meet one.

cough, cough cough....

I'm feeling all cotton-bally in my sinuses. I want to lay down and whimper but alas, it is not to be. I have to be a grown-up and work. Poor me.

Dead People I'd Have a Conversation With

Bertrand Russell

Hitler

Jesus (if he's real)

My Gramma (yes, Gramma, not grandma)

my dog is a sex offender

So El Poocho and Sammi the wunder-kat are getting along better by the day, but I tihnk we may have had a set back this evening. Sammi's very affectionate, as is Bear, so when they were rubbing heads I said "aww". I decided to put Sammi on the floor to see what would happen. I should have known better. It was horrifying. Bear pinned her to the floor lovingly and engaged himself in his feline gynecologic studies. I had to lift him off to alleviate the kitty crying. Oddly enough he wasn't roughhousing like he usually does. I was witness to interspecies pet porn. Now he's asleep. Pervert.

snow haiku

blizzard of o-5
eighteen inches fell in vain
i still had to work

the things we do for love

What is the most re-goddamn-diculous thing you've done or said for "love"? I was thinking about this the other day. I've been the biggest human doormat known to the civilized world because I thought if I proved my love than it would be reciprocated.

Top Five...

5. Didn't cut my hair for 3 years becuase he liked it that way.
4. Sold his dime bags from my locker because my school had an honor code and didn't search.
3. I flew to Phoenix- on my dime. Got closure out of it and Phoenix is pretty awesome.
2. I almost moved to Japan for Phoenix guy.

-----

1. I paid for a trip for two to New Orleans and the angel cheated on me while we were there.

Here's your lesson for the day:

Don't cry over married guys. He's not going to pick you. And if he was, he would have already.


... The best part of my reflection session was that I realized that I haven't had to be anything but myself since I met Mike. It's the greatest feeling in the world.

eww.

I decided to clean the top of my cupboards this evening. Sounds like a thrill a minute, you say? That's what I do to feel productive after a day at the eighth ring of hell (work). A word to the wise- if you rent an apartment and enjoy putting things on top of your cupboards/ kitchen cabinets, check the cleanliness situation first. Fucking eww. Whoever lived here before me and my menagerie must have cooked with lard every night and never ventilated. I had to scrub with a scotch pad and degreaser. And then the cat decided that was the best time to walk through it, but I think she regretted that when I pushed her into the sink. If I ever decide to install the software for my kick-ass digital camera I may post picutres of the nastiness.

FYI...

Just thought I'd let you's know that the boyfriend's site is down due to registration issues. Should be back soon.

Am I the only one who watches Extreme Makeover Home Edition? I love that damn Ty Pennington.

And now, for something completely different...

Monty Python, anyone?

I fucking hate my job.

I want to tell you a story that has nothing to do with either of the first 2 lines.
I was reading Harley Writer's blog a moment ago and it reminded me of a glaring aspect of Samantha. I am reaeaeaeaelllllyyyy narcoleptic. Not funny, Deuce Bigelow bowling bullshit, rather swerving across the New Jersey Turnpike, "Holy Fuck" narcoleptic. I haven't been
" "diagnosed" " (rock quotes-Dane Cook), but believe me scouts, I'm fucking narcoleptic.

Top Ten

10. Sitting at a red light with both feet on the brake
9. Sitting at said red light and rear-ending an ugly Hummer
8. During mediocre sex a long time ago
7. On the listening end of a conversation
6. Standing up during a class
5. On the speaking end of a conversation
4. While eating
3. During many movies
2. Leaning against a wall
--------------------------

And the number 1 is

Crossing a street.

So I try to sleep according to my body's needs, but that varies from 3 to 10 hours any given night. Good times. Did you know Methylphenidate (Ritalin!) is a treatment for freaks who fall asleep? Did you also know it turns you into Lizzy Borden? None of that shit, thank you very much. One fucking genius physician told me to "drink more coffee". No fuckin-shit chief. I can tell you a dozen different locations in the Tri-State Area where I've slept in my car. I've had at least three people knock on my window and proceed to tell me they had wonderd if I was dead. Ah the eternal optimist. "Tap on the window. Look at her mouth hanging open. I think she's been murdered." Apparently, shithead, you didn't see the drool.

Oh my this is just hideous

http://www.uglydress.com