Dogs

I always wanted a dog. My parents finally got one when I was 18. It was vicious and required antidepressants.

In fourth grade, I started a dog walking business with the smelly girl from school. Business shut down after our first dog. Frankie - a sloppy, unkept french poodle, slipped out of his collar across Harding Avenue and got struck by a white pick up truck. The dog lived, but his pelvis was shattered. I was told he would never have children again.

We told the owner the walk "was on us".

I like to look at dogs, especially koala looking, shaved pomeranians.

I don't want a dog ever again. Dogs are a major commitment I am not willing to make. Besides, they shit on the floor.

Blenders

When I was 21, I bought a beehive blender to make my kitchen look "retro". I bought one for my friend Emma as well for Christmas, but I never gave it to her.

Months later, the glass pitcher broke and I used Emma’s as a replacement. That broke too. Now I have two beehives, no blender.

Blenders are called mixies in India. Even more interesting, a Polish person invented the blender. Seeing as milkshakes are delicious, Polish jokes are no longer welcome in my home.

When I smoke cigarettes around other people, I fan the smoke away from them and apologize the whole time. When I use a blender around people, I get nervous the sound will bother them and apologize the whole time. I don’t like to bother people.

A blender is one of the few appliances you can't substitute. If the recipe calls for a blender, and you don't have one: you are completely screwed. You can't crush ice; you're not the Hulk.

Air Conditioners

My sister and I always shared a room. 7 years my senior, Tara usually operated with complete disregard for my state of slumber during her morning routine – blow drying her hair in our room while I slept, and, essentially moving about as if I did not exisit.

In hindsight, I got even by moving to her bed once she left for school. Her bed was located next to the air condition which was, presumably, on purpose. After, she left, I’d throw my blankets on her bed and relish in the comfort of being under a thousand layers of cotton and rayon in a freezing room, sometimes squealing with delight.

This one particular morning, I delayed in going to her bed feeling immobilized for no apparent reason. Laying in my bed, day dreaming about being older and the fancy, exiciting life I would have, I heard a sound I never heard before: actual electronic sparks. It looked and sounded like lighting bolts from a cartoon shooting out of the air conditioner and onto my sisters bed.

I screamed my bloody head off.

Known to be little melodramatic, it took a while to convince my parents of what happened.

My father, Ed, whom was employed by Con Ed phoned in a complaint. Luckily the sparks didn’t cause a fire, but Con Edison came to take a look at what happened as a favor to my dad.

They said two things that day that blew my mind: a. this resulted from a squirrel messing with the poles outside my window and b. I would had been electrocuted. In other words, I would have been killed by a squirrel.

After that I never went in Tara’s bed.



One would assume this would never happen again, but two weeks later, it did. This time, the sparks just happen to miss my sister by a hair of a second. Tara and I plotted the death a squirrel clearly spawned from Satan. As usual, because it happened to my sister whom my parents loved more than me, we moved our beds after that and went easy on the air conditioner for once.

Whenever I think of this, it confirms my belief in divine intervention and rodents are satan henchmen as are bed bugs and colicy babies.

Fainting

I fainted yesterday.

I woke up and said "what the fuck just happened", like a lady.

I fainted last summer after riding my bike for 10 hours; that time, I said "always cocacola" when I came to. I was thristy.

That time, I knew I passed out from dehydration; this time, the doctor said I got up to fast. My insurance paid a guy to say that to me. That's the problem with America.

When you tell people you fainted, they usually tell you a story about fainting.

When I was about 12ish, I learned how to make yourself pass out. From then on, my friends and I used to passed out all the time - on street corners, sleep overs. Someone told us a story about a boyplaying the same game and dying, so we stopped. None of us were interested in dying.

My sister fainted once when we were on vacation in Wildwood. I was 13, she was 20. She leaned back on a car and started shaking. I thought she was dancing and was so mortified. "Right now? You're going to do this right now?"

The people in the car got out and told me to call an ambulance. I called my mom instead because she's a nurse. My mom brought her to the dr who said Tara was allergic to the....sun. She passed out from overexposure to an allergen. 17 years later, my sister has son who is also allergic to ridiculous things.

I think fainting is what it must feel like to die; and thats, mad dark.

Fireflies

Fireflies were my favorite thing when I was younger. Samantha Barr and I spent every summer night collecting them and every summer day developing intricate little bio domes wherein they would live forever. At night, before bed, I dreamt about keeping one on a leash and sauntering about on Tremont Ave.

My mother wouldn’t let me have a dog.

Once, on my way out the door, my mother called me back in to find out where I was going. I stole her crystal sugar pourer or syrup thing (I don’t know what they’re called), thinking it would make a beautiful home for my pets. I shoved it in my underpants and explained that I was going to Samantha’s.

Running out of the house, crystal in hand, I screamed: “I have such a full life”. I was 7 and had no idea what that meant. I watched a tremendous amount of Oprah. As I screamed, I crashed into a fence, presumably blinded with glee. The crystal shattered everywhere - in my hair, all over the ground and piercing my arm leaving me with a thick, short scar that still remains.

My mother never noticed the her missing crystal pourer thing or the cut on my arm much to my relief.

I forget who, but someone’s brother – either mine or samantha’s- taught us what happens when you step on a firefly and slide your foot. After that, we collected them and stomped on them all night long, showing each other our caucus’ glow – as if we’d never seen it before.

After you you learn how to kill something, you stop appreciating its life, it beauty. That was the last summer we collected fireflies, but every time I see one of I think of Samantha and our very full lives.

St. Patricks Day

I once heard that St. Patrick was not Irish. Supposedly, he was black and this was to be ironic because stereotypically Irish people are racist.

My mom calls this 'reverse racism'. When she says this, it confuses me.

Racism is prejudice that members of one race are intrinsically superior to members of other races. Being Irish isn't a race, and based on this definition racism can't really be reversed.

I should mention, as an Italian woman, my mother doesn't particularly like Irish people - deeming them stoic overall. She fancies herself a passionate, soulful woman which I don’t disagree with. I do disagree with making declarations on an entire culture based on single interactions. I also think she doesn't really feel this way because is happily married to an Irish man - my father- for 40 years.

My mother also believes she is engaged in an "interracial marriage" because she married an Irish man. Whenever she says this, she uses air quotes.

I do not particularly like St. Patrick's Day.

Historically, St. Patrick's Day has been a catastrophe for me and the people of Throggs Neck - my hometown. One of the kids I went to grammar school got beaten to death at the parade, and people close to me tend to use the holiday as a chance to drink, drive, get arrested, break parole and... Well, I think I used to stay home on St. Patrick's Day just waiting for an awful phone call. Over the years, I learned that a watch pot does not make the water boil any faster, and waiting for bad news is not an efficient use of my time.

When I was underage, liked going to the parade because drinking made me feel badass. Badass was the look I was going for back then. Moreover, while I am still kinda going for that look, nowadays I just don’t want to be hung over at work. It gives me the jitters.

St. Patrick was born in Wales. An Irish Slave kidnapped him as a boy and brought him to Ireland. He was reared in Ireland and brought Catholicism to its people. I have no idea what this has to do with alcohol, except that Catholics have wine at communion. So why aren't people drinking mad vino?

Most of the churches I've been to, don't let the attendees drink the wine. In high school, I decided this was a herpes prevention tactic.

I would say "may the luck of the irish be with you" to end this blog, but I don't know any lucky Irish people - except myboyfriend who gets to live with me.

Cancer

I always hated the "cancer sucks" campaign.

Stubbing your toe sucks; Cancer kills you.

I much prefer something along the lines of (pardon my french) "Cancer's a real dickhead" or, at the very least something more aggressive like "Fuck Cancer".

As I get older, I find the word "dickhead" way more crass than I used to and exceptionally more offensive to my ears.

Some people believe cancer is caused by negative energy or stress. I dont entirely doubt this because stress causes inflammation in the body, and inflammation influences cancer causing genes. That's why aspirin prevents cancer. However, it really breaks my heart when cancer patients choose no medical intervention and go the way of hypnosis and crystals. Cause those people die. Indeed, every now and then you hear a story of someone who laughed their way to health, but those are miracles.

The thing is, miracles are rare; they're special (even the Insane clown posse knows that). So, when it comes to your life and death - the thing that makes you just like everyone else - why would would you gamble? It's like banking on mega millions to pay this month's rent.

Most people who work in cancer hosptials say that they would love to be put out of work by cure; I don't doubt this, but, cmon- losing your job sucks.

Jokes

My older sister was exceptionally hilarious. So much so, it made me want to be funny at an age when most girls' goals involved barbie dolls and science fair projects. I still wanted to win the science fair, but I was more concerned with being funny.

During this time, I went through a period wherein my scholastic book orders mainly consisted of fruit scented erasers and joke books. I read these books like they were novels but I never laughed out loud. Eventually, I expanded my repertoire to Bearstein bears and Beverly Clearly but the joke books were a mainstay. In hindsight, I personally would never tell a straight up joke, leading me to believe that jokes and joke books are relics from simpler times.

When I was a teenager I hung out at Waterbury park. One summer night, this guy swith a stupid nickname said something funny -- which was rare. Even more rare, it was really funny. Once he realized his success, he went across the park to the older kids and told same joke.

He had a wonky eye and wasn't considered cool. Judging by his sad walk back over to the younger kids, he failed somewhere along the line, i,e, timing, devliery. Jokes are usually better first time around. The older kids were dicks anyway, and probably wouldn't have laughed regardless.

This was the first time, I realized being funny is an important thing people strive for. In conversations as an adult, I feel as though people are attempting humor 90% of the time.

Most of my good friends are really funny. I hope when I die, they roast me.

Elephants

I've been told I have a memory like an elephant. Often, when I creep someone out by recalling some inane detail from yesteryear, I say "yeah, I have a memory like an elephant". I have no idea if this creeps people out less, but its become a compulsion to follow up my recollection with this declaration.

According to a reliable source (google), the elephant’s memory has been greatly exaggerated. Indeed, they remember many things, but the statement, “An elephant never forgets,” is grossly fabricated. People used to think that elephants particularly remembered an injury, but this does not seem to be true either. Well-trained elephants can learn and remember about thirty spoken orders... much like dogs.

In other words, I have been speaking nonsense to compensate for my creepiness.

Irene Karpenko told me a story yesterday wherein a dog and an elephant became best friends. When the dog became ill, the elephant waited outside the hosptial. Fido's release from the hospital in what I presume to be a joyous reunion resulted in the elephant petting the dog with its trunk. Irene said this disturbed her, animails petting each other - like tender humans.

I was more bother by the fact that there is no way this story is true.

A. Wouldn't the hosptial try to get the dog adopted? Why would they just it release into the wild?
B. What kind of hospital lets a elephant just wait outside?

C'mon, get real.

However, it would have been very funny to see an elephant pacing nervously.

Sweat

"Girl, I'm going to make you sweat; sweat till you can't sweat no more" these are the lyrics of a very popular reggae song. I think its supposed to be a sexy song, but sweating is never sexy. Accordingly, I don't get the success of this song.

I think I have hyperhidrosis.

Hyperhidrosis is a medical condition in which a person sweats excessively and unpredictably. People with hyperhidrosis may sweat even when the temperature is cool or when they are at rest. As I type, my armpits are drenched for no apparent reason. Gross? Oh, I know, but I have to own it otherwise I'll feel bad about myself.

Once at a christmas party, my coworker said "i love that you are so sweaty all the time, and you're just like 'whatevs'" This would have been a insult if I didn't decide years ago to take a stance of power and ownership.

I do, however, wish that stance would make me stop sweating.

Mike Thomas, a chemical engineer and Team Leader for Proctor & Gamble's antiperspirant line, told Sweat Solutions “you wouldn’t have stains if it weren’t for your antiperspirant. Antiperspirants are very acidic and it’s that acidity that causes the colors on your clothes to shift.” He suggests that people apply a thin layer and wait for it to thoroughly dry in order to avoid underarm stains.

If we didn't sweat, we would die. That's pretty dark.

Valentine's Day

I understand that Valentine's Day is a hallmark holiday; I just don't like when people bring it up in a conversation as if they were the first people to come to this conclusion. This is public information and their stance is gratingly insulting.

Sometimes, people who don't celebrate Valentine's Day feel superior to others. As per usual, I feel this is a coping mechanism to mask their pain of being valentine-less...or worse, dating someone who doesn't believe in Valentine's Day. The latter are generally pretty miserable to be around.

Why is cupid an armed and naked baby? Armed and naked are two words you don't see together often. Armed, naked, and baby are even rarer.

I once had a therapist ream me out because she felt I wasn't in touch with how I felt about Valentine's day. The truth was, I had bigger fish to fry that day in therapy and, frankly, I liked Valentine's day. It was perplexing why we were harping on this this banal topic that had nothing to do with what I was there for.

I told her I loved Valentine’s Day, but it seemed she has strong feelings regarding my affection. In hindsight, I don't think she was in touch with how she felt about me liking Valentine's day. In therapy this is called: countertransference. Many seasoned professionals forget they are still susceptible to it.


Why don't anatomical hearts look like the paper heart you see on cards? I'm pretty sure the same goes for stars, though I've never seen one up close.

I like the phrase "love is in the air" because it sounds like a disease you can catch. I think its the best disease to catch even if it makes you temporarily demented and partial to foolish decisions

Dreams

My Aunt Gloria is a beautiful woman. When I was younger, I used to have nightmares that she would touch me and make me old.

I've been afraid of aging for quite some time now.

Every morning, I tell my live in boyfriend my dreams. He isn't a morning person, and this doesn't help matters. His mother also doesn't like when people explain their dreams to her either; I can see where this would get annoying, but I can't stop myself. I have trouble with impulse control.

Ever have someone say to you "guess what I dreamt last night?" My childhood best friend used to do that, and would actually make me guess. "Unicorns?" "No.", "Aliens?", "No!" I never understood where she got off getting frustrated; the subconsciously is limitless.

She was pretty self centered.

Freud believed dreams were attempts to resolve internal conflicts. In summary, if you are able to remember your dream, it signifies that your ego is tolerant of the conflict. This a good thing, otherwise your ego suppresses the conflict.

Too bad, most people aren't trained in dream analysis, because half the time dreams are so convoluted, no one knows what they mean.

A famous (and my favorite) dream analysis case study involved an anorexic who kept dreaming she lived at 180th street. In her waking life, this was not true. It was a recurring dream and the analyst was unaware of her anorexia. In each session, the pt felt compelled to tell the analyst her dream. Eventually, the analyst said to her:

So how long have you been starving yourself.....

1- I
8 - ate
0- nothing.

The analyst's response was the therapy equivalent to “BOOM, ROASTED”.

Ever see Rudy? It's about a boy whose dream of being a football player at Notre Dame comes true. That's a great movie.

I firmly believe that dreams really do come true, but you have to work hard. Hard like Rudy.

Cabs

Some of the most intense interactions I've ever had were related to cabs.

This morning, a woman thought I was going to steal "her" cab. Her face transformed before me and clearly presented the point she wanted to get across: oh, no you don't! This woman was wearing a fur coat and had hair like my mom.

Like I would ever steal a cab from my mom?

This happens to me frequently because I have a serious cab addiction. Riding in cars soothes me and makes me feel calm. It makes sense to me that I tend to take a cab to work, because the potential for "awful" is high at my job and causes me anxiety sometimes.

One of my favorite things in the world: watching the face of someone who assumed I would steal their cab as I kindly direct the cab driver toward the person (usually a woman) who was waiting before me. As the cab nears, they always start running/walking quickly towards the cab they feel is theirs. Their disgruntled little pouts increases to a furious grimace. And then, I wave the cab over to...them.

Most people feel pretty stupid, I believe. They maintain their fury as they get in the cab, throwing me a look that reads: "yeah, that's right, b*tch". I think its their way of coping with embarrassment. I bet they are pretty difficult to deal with in an argument with loved ones.

Eyes

I do not believe the eyes are the windows to the soul. Men who say this often wear ridiculous jewelry, like necklaces made out of puka shells and beaded hemp bracelets.

If I had to choose between blind or deaf, I would choose blind. I wouldn't want to sound like Geri from Facts of Life and, besides, I like music. On the other hand, if you're blind, you don't have to watch yourself age. Also, you can wear fun glasses and people would say you have "pizzazz".

Ever hear about that guy who blinded his gf with lye? She forgave him and they are currently married. After they were married, he cheated on her. That's messed up.

I love brown eyes because they look better with red lipstick. When you have blue eyes and wear dark lipstick, you look like a Russian gymnast.

Why can't you touch a seeing eye dog? I know they are working, but people distract me while I'm working all the time.

Birds

Birds are supposed to be descendents of dinosaurs. A friend of mine thinks of this everytime she meets someone who keeps a bird as a pet.

Personally, I would never tell anyone I had a pet bird; it sends a message about you - a very boring message - and I like to keep up a fascade of excitement for as long as I can when I first meet someone. Technically, you have a pet dinosaur if you own a bird, but people get their panties in a twist over semantics.

My ex boyfriend family's always had birds in their home. Whenever one died, they bought another one. Everyone in their home could be described as "slightly irritated". Nature is beautiful, but chirping is nature's noise pollution. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to see where I'm going with this.

Isn't it amazing that birds just crap in the air? Can you imagine what that's like? I imagine you'd have to be naked, at least pantless. People often say they feel very liberated when they are naked and I imagine flying is probably liberating in its own rite. In summary, birds have really won the liberation lottery. Maybe that's why people love putting them in cages; jealousy makes you do weird things.

Cigarettes

I quit smoking for a while.

I used to love it.

Then, when I quit quitting, smoking gave me panic attacks. Eventually, I smoked through the panic and was able to cure myself. See what a good therapist I am!

Smoking is more likely to cause cancers other than lung cancer --like bladder cancer. If you get bladder cancer, your bladder gets removed most of the time. This means you have to live with a pee bag outside of your body for the rest of your life.

Smoking does make you look cool when you're young, but an increase in age correlates with a decrease in this phenomena. Rather, you look like you've live a hard life -- which is a nice way of saying you look ugly. "Are you tired?" is also a nice way of getting this point across.

Cigarettes are very expensive, but I feel like its worth it. I'm not sure why.

Most of the conversations I've had over a cigarette have been better than the ones I've had without one.

Phobias

Phobias are, as per the DSM IV, an anxiety disorder characterized by extreme and irrational fear of simple things or social situations.

I am phobic of electrical outlets, stray dogs, heights, and public speaking.

I used to be scared of all dogs.I tell people I developed this fear out of a childhood exp wherein I was bit by a dog. I don't believe this to be true. I think my mom's fear of dogs eventually wore me down, but the former sounds better. So I lie. Once when I was twelve, a leash-less dog charged at me. I reacted by jumping on top of a parked car. An eyewitness, my bff, said golden retrievers aren't known for attacking people. She obviously wasn't an avid reader of the DSM, otherwise she would have known rationalizing me down from the car hood was an exercise in futility.

If I have to plug in an iron I will, but, I'd prefer not to. Instead, I'd rather someone else do it as I worry I'll be electrocuted . Recently, it occurred to me that I would feel profoundly guilt ridden if the person who plugged in the iron died. So, I started buying Downy wrinkle release. Sometimes I worry they will stop making it. Since having that thought, I stopped buying the wrinkle release. Now, I have my clothes dry cleaned or I spray it with water.

Shows like Fear Factor make sense to me, but I think they're mean and often watched by people who would never go on the show. In essence, the show is watched by people who are afraid of being afraid.

Grapefruits

There are certain drugs - chemotherapies, antidepressants- that do not metabolize well when you eat grapefruits.

I never ate grapefruits until I was about 28ish. Maybe 27. My boyfriend at the time used to act like he deserved a noble prize because he enjoyed grapefruits and felt this made him healthier than me. To spite him, I didn't eat them. I don't think he ever realized this and this makes me feel foolish. In hindsight, I think I should have taken my spite up a notch or told him his behavior annoyed me. Either one of these options would have proven - pun intended- to be more fruitful. I think this highlights an important fact, passive aggression needs to be more aggressive for it to really work.

In general people who eat grapefruits think they are better than people who do not.

When I eat an entire grapefruit, I feel very FULL. I recently investigated this on google and learned that an entire grapefruit has apprx 14 grams of fiber. Which is a. so much and b. would make you feel VERY FULL. Mystery solved; thanks, google.

People on diets like to drink grapefruit juice. I find these people annoy me in everyday conversations and tend to fluctuate in weight a lot.