Living Single No More

It has been quite some time since I have “blogged”. In that two plus months life has happened all at once. One of the most drastic life changes I have made was moving in with my boyfriend.

After five months of dating I moved in with the adorable Yugoslavian man who stopped me on the street months earlier.

Living with a man is an adjustment, well a man that is not technically a roommate. Male roommates understand boundaries, and with roommates there is no expectation of sharing or the “what is mine is yours” assumption. When you first move in with the person you plan to share your life with there are a few things that may come as a surprise:

Men don’t diet; they just eat less of something and lose 10lbs or take a walk and lose 5lbs (bastards)

When you move in with your significant other don’t expect the good leftovers to be there when you go back for them

It’s always best to be sick when you have someone to take care of you (even if they are trying to cure your kidney infection with “remedies from Montenegro”

Men should not be allowed to use bleach, unless pink is becomes the new white . . . . literally

Men take longer to get ready than women

Men like cheesy reality shows . . . a lot

Putting a dish inside an empty dishwasher is apparently not common sense

Snoring . . . . .VERY LOUD snoring

Nocturnal flatulent

Men are always better drivers than women even if they suck at driving worse than anyone ever alive

Men do not replace the toilet paper roll . . . ever

My boyfriend is awesome really though. He cooks and cleans and rubs my back :-)

9.9.09

Two years ago today I learned that I truly know nothing.

In my short 28 years on this earth I have seen a lot. I had seen and experienced many unfortunate realities all before becoming a high school graduate. So in the fall of 2007 I was sure I had it all figured out. I most certainly knew the “formula” of life, which meant that if “X” happens in your life there is no way “Y” and “Z” will happen. Um, that formula is shit and that is all I really knew. No formula was going to save me from life, or make things predictable. Life is certainly unpredictable and you can’t keep life from happening.

Two years ago today my life changed for the extreme worst however I was able to learn from it then change my life for the better.

Two years ago today many great people and I lost a wonderful person in our lives. His name is WES. He was vibrant, fun, comforting and perfect. If you met him, you knew him and you never forgot him. I could write a short novel about how wonderful WES was but I won’t. There are really no words in our paltry language to truly capture him and since I don’t speak another language I will leave it at that. However I will talk about what I learned from him.

WES taught me:
Laughing is the best way to spend time with a person you care about
People are important
You have to let someone in
You cannot live by a clock
Having fun should be a priority
You should love what you do for a living
It is ok if you are not a morning person
You should always say what you need to say
The most beautiful people are broken
You have to forgive, even if you are doing it for someone else

Everyday I think about WES and I will everyday for the rest of my life (or as long as I can see my left shoulder). Which brings me to the most important thing that I have learned from WES and that is – Don’t fuck it up. No matter how scared you are, how close someone gets or how hard it is – work it out because you may never have a second chance to fix it.

Feel free to share your memories of WES.

Make donations in loving memory of Warren E. Schnetzer at www.americanheart.org.

I am living with Buddy Holly and dating Elvis

How am I living with Buddy Holly and dating Elvis you ask? Well if you have ever met my roommate Jake you would understand the reference and my boyfriend’s name is Elvis. Yes, as in the king . . . or at least he thinks so.

I met Elvis in a relatively unconventional way. After a long day of drinking I was walking home from a bar in Murray Hill. I had my head phones on singing Evanescence at the top of my lungs while walking down 3^rd Ave. In the middle of “Bring me to life . . .” I feel a tap on my shoulder. I turn to see a guy trying to get my attention. I figure he is going to ask me for directions so I pull my ear buds out. He asks, “Can I buy you a drink?” I politely respond with, “No, fuck off,” and continue down the street singing “Wake me up inside, call my name . . .” I get about a half a block and he is tapping me on the shoulder again. I take one ear bud out proclaim, “What?” “Please, just have one drink with me.” I looked him up and down, it dawns on me that he has what sounds like an Italian accent. On his forearm there is a tattoo that reads ‘<>’. I tell him that he is a gangster wannabe, no good bad news m-f’er that needs to leave me alone. This charade went on for about three blocks until I finally gave in and had a drink with him.

The next morning he made me breakfast. As I was walking home I texted my cousin, “I think I met someone.” I pretty much new he was great right from the start.

I told this story to my soccer teammates. One of my teammates responded with this. “Tell your boyfriend to fuck off for me. By the way, I’m sorry to have to tell you this but just because he stalked you for 3 blocks at 2 in the morning while you were drunk doesn’t mean he loves you. I mean, if I were him the very next day I would have called you at least 50 times and hung up. So don’t fall for his psychologically unhinged romantic act because he doesn’t truly love you until you have to get a restraining order on him. Besides that though he sounds like a lovely guy” – Thanks Jon!

I am a lesbian at heart: homage to the Girouard siblings

I have known Jena Girouard for almost year now. Jena G, as I so affectionately call her, is one of the best people I know and I can’t imagine my life with out her. I have never laughed so hard around one person in my life, especially when she told me to get out of the car as we were driving 60 miles per hour on route 78.

I recently met Jena’s brother Mark. They are two peas in a pod and he is just as wonderful as she is. He looks and speaks just like Woody Harrelson and has a quick wit delivered with a southern drawl that will drive you to tears.

Here are a few conversations that have taken place between the Girouard siblings and me.

A phone conversation one spring day at work:
Me: Jena, I know why we (Jena-a Gemini, me-a Taurus) can be such great friends but never date.

Jena: V.A., please tell me, aside from the fact that we are not lesbians, why can we never date?

Me: Well we are both standing at a ledge about to step off, but we are at different ledges so that way we can talk each other off said ledges.

Jena: Yeah, because if we were dating we would be holding hands jumping off that ledge together, for sure.

My first meeting with Mark:
Mark: I new you were 60/40 lesbian! I could just tell.

Me: But I have a boyfriend

Mark: Nope 60/40.

Jena and I leaving a soccer game
Jena: I’m driving Darren’s lesbian car

Me: I’ve never heard anyone call a car “lesbian”. What kind of car is it?

Jena: A Subaru Outback.

Me: I love that car!!! That was my first car when I got my license. I miss it so much!

Jena: Yeah, exactly, that’s cause you’re a lesbian

Gotta love the Girouards. I have yet to meet the older sister, but apparently she loves lesbians so I’m excited to be inducted into the family.

Two Coke Cans and a Muffin: Quality time with Dad

ME

I have written about my biological father in previous posts as some of you might recall. He is a bit of a crack-head with the hiv and other diseases he has contracted through intravenous drug use. However over the past 8 years my brother and I have spent some “quality” time with him, although not by choice.

My form of quality time with my father came after a drunken arrest. My incarceration was directly and solely related to my father and his criminal past. I hadn’t spoken to my father in the months prior to ending up in court the day after Christmas. I’m sure I’d seen him on Thanksgiving which probably yielded some small talk but nothing significant or poignant.

I arrived at court in my Sunday best or as my co-defendants exclaimed “looking like a school teacher”. We were all sitting together in the court room when my father walked in. I shrunk down in the back of the court pew wondering what the fuck he was doing here. I assumed he had caught a case himself and was present for the hearing. Of course Josh and Jody (my co-defendants) loudly say, “Isn’t that your dad.” I said “No,” they said, “I know you don’t see him much but that is definitely your dad.” I said, “Fuck.” He spotted me and walked over. I said hello, and made small talk and asked what he had done to end up in court. He said nothing and that he was here to walk me through my first court hearing. My father has never shown up to a school play, sports event, recital or a milestone birthday but he decided to show up to the one event that I really didn’t need him for, especially since I have a B.S. in Criminal Justice.

So we make small talk. He tells me about the Hep-C drugs he is talking. I suggest some others that might be less abrasive since that is my field.

After hours of sitting in the court room they call my name. I go up and plead not guilty while my father stands proudly behind me. Most of the court staff knew him by name; they asked how he is doing and if I was his girlfriend. I damn near smacked him. Do I look like I’d date a crack-head? After my plea we proceeded to the back room where the lawyer that both my father and brother have on retainer asked if I need representation. I kindly declined. I spoke with the prosecutor who found the charge of resisting arrest peculiar, so he dropped the case; I just had to pay a $50 court fee.

I think they knew spending the day in court with my father was punishment enough and that I cannot be faulted for genetics.

MY BROTHER

My brother was not so fortunate to spend just a day in court with my father. Hell, he was not so fortunate just to spend the day in court, period. He had the opportunity to spend a few months in lock-up with my father as his roommate.

Recently during a family gathering the size of my father’s penis had come up in conversation. Over the years my sisters and I had heard stories of his mythically large penis. My brother confided that while they were doing time together that he discovered that indeed our father’s penis was huge, so much so that he felt gyped. Needless to say hysterics arose. Out of extreme curiosity I asked my brother to describe exactly how big he was talking. My brother’s eyes lifted and he tilted and shook his head struggling to think of the words to describe my father enormous penis. As he stared off into a corner he slowly said, “It’s like two coke cans”, we busted out in an uproar of laughter. We were all laughing so hard but my brother was still staring into the corner like he hadn’t finished thinking. Slowly our laughter died down and my brother announced, “And a muffin, it’s as big as two coke cans and a muffin.”

Hysterics ensued.

This was the explanation to one of my earlier posts. See Day 47: Alistair is a Cunt!

Don't taint my vacation

So today we were walking home from a dinner at Al Capone's old haunt Joe's Cold Stone Crab Shack, which was delicious, when my brother decided to share with us the fact that all the walking has chaffed him.

Needless to say we were a little confused as to why my skinny ass brother was getting chaffed from walking. This is when he explained to us that the chaffing was relatively close to his testicles.

Upon further discussion he informed us that he pulls the hair from his balls to his asshole out, by hand. When asked why he does this he said that he watched a documentary on monks who pull all of their hair out. So he deducted that he could do this to his junk. He says that the ladies like it.

So to to truly understand where his chaffing was occurring he pulled out two quarters and dime to show us exactly where the chaffing was taking place. At which point I asked "your taint is chaffing?"

Needless to say hilarity ensued and we were all laughing so hard. So I told him to put some Palmer's Coca Butter on his taint. He asked if his Vaseline Intensive Care with aloe would be better. I told him it would burn his balls.

As Sarah, Paulie and I laugh hysterically he said, "What? I like getting my ass licked."

Thank you Barack Obama!

Alcoholics Anonymous

So I know I haven't blogged in awhile, especially since I have started drinking again.

What I have learned from my 50days sober and my subsequent 24 days off the wagon:

1. People still find me entertaining even when I sober
2. Sobriety fills you with hopeless optimism
3. The universe is, in fact, out to screw me
4. My life is ridiculous
5. Drinking is not a race, unless of course it is Capps, Me and two bottles of Jack
6. I’m getting old
7. Alcohol drowns out the sound of the ticking biological clock
8. The craziest shit happens when you are sober
9. Chocolate and ice cream cannot take the place of wine, beer and whiskey
10. If you place a handle of Jameson’s on your desk no one will question you
11. Capps is going to die alone
12. I hope Capps dies alone before the age of 45 otherwise we will die together in a miserable drunken stupor . . .but at least I won’t have to work
13. I’m smarter than people give me credit for
14. I have learned who my true friends are
15. I really love to play soccer

This is what I have learned from AA

Take the quiz if you think you can do better!

http://www.aa.org/lang/en/subpage.cfm?page=71

It's not like riding a bike

I figured I may have to ease a little bit back into drinking but that it would be a little like riding a bike. You hop off the wagon, have a drink or two and you are back in the fast lane. NOT AT ALL.

On my first night of non sobriety I sucked back a Petrón Martini. I got a little tipsy but my biggest gripe was that my stomach burned. I had coated my stomach with six perogies before I left Queens just a few hours earlier. That was more than sufficient to set the stage for my first drink . . nope! The tequila burned right through the perogies lining my stomach. I was not that into it.

The next night I took it easy as well. At dinner I had two glasses of chardonnay, an Irish coffee, a Chocolate Love Martini and an Apple Martini. I was slightly tipsy but again my stomach burned. I was not a fan. It will be slow road to alcohol redemption. I feel like I have one ankle stuck on the wagon and I’m being dragged along side it.

Day 49 and 50: Back at my fighting weight . . .or not

Um, so I had my Petron Margaritini at 12:01 am and it made my stomach hurt. I also got a little tipsy off of one drink. It's 9 hours later and my stomach still hurts.

I'm so fucking lame I hate myself.

I knew the universe would not let me get by unscathed. My make-or-break "date" with the Gemini has led to the a break. Guess I gotta move on. My sobriety was a high with a huge disconnect from reality. I know how things go down and optimism won't change that. But on to the next one.

Thanks for tuning in to my angst ridden sobriety. Now that balance has been restored and lambs are no longer being sacrificed to the alcohol gods I will need to get on with life. Should I reinstated my quest to be a raging alcoholic or shall I abstain for the eating of cheese for 50 days as one friend suggested.

I'm going to leave the experiments to Morgan Spurlock.

I honestly would slit my wrists if I couldn't eat cheese for 50 days. 

Oh, P.S. Jesus: Fuck You, I'm better than you.    

Day 48: It ends tonight

Today is the last full day I will be sober. FUCK YEAH. I'm sort of tearing a little. I can't wait to take a sip of a delicious margarita.

I'm much less angsty and bitter than I was but don't let that fool you. I have learned a lot about myself in my sobriety journey.

11:45 PM - In a few short minuets I will take my first sip of alcohol in 50 days. However, it will be bittersweet. There were several hopes hinged on today and I think they will be dashed. . . . . . but at least I will have alcohol to cushion the blow.

Sobriety ends and my short stint in La La land is over . . . . back to reality.

Day 47: What sobriety will get you

A tribute to Mahdi Hemingway.

Mahdi is the only person I know who does not drink that I do not have a heavy disdain for. Usually those who don’t drink preach to and judge those of us who do. (Note: Darren this does not include you . . . you are the best non drinker)

Mahdi was accepted to Columbia University. This to some may not be a big deal but for someone who has come from so little, fought the odds of men in his demographic and made something of themselves, this is huge. I am so proud of him.

Congratulations Mahdi!

Check out News Hour's exposé on Mahdi.


* These results are not typical. In no way do I support abstinence from drinking.

Day 46: The universe has taken a hiatus from screwing me over

Lately things in my life have been going unusually well. The universe is typically trying to screw me so this is a pleasant surprise. I'm starting to wonder if there is something to the scary movie formula where characters who abstain (don't drink or have sex) are the only characters who survive the hockey masked serial kill. Spare the virgin!

So I have two days left of sobriety. I’m pretty excited about this. My first drink, after what will technically be 49 days of sobriety, will be a Petrón Margarita with salt at the Raw Martini with my boy Jody.

Recently an unlikely source has forced me to really take a look at how I approach relationships. This unlikely source is my roommate Guy*. Yes, the man who has the “ho train” running through his sheets actually has on point insight into love and relationships. He explained to me that playing games, being elusive and witty is not going to get me what I want or let someone know that I truly do care about them. He said if you don’t open up and continue being afraid you will push people away. Needless to say this strategy plays well into my commitment phobia. So after a long and very loud discussion on what I should say in response to a text from a special someone, I gave in . . . . sort of. We met in the middle. I responded in a way I typically wouldn’t. I never show my hand or even flash a corner of a card and now I felt like I was laying it all out there. To my surprise, he was right. The text led to a great conversation and which made me realize a lot. You have to give a little to get a little even if you might get hurt.

My player of a roommate is a hopeless romantic, who’da thunk it!

Although I still have this impending feeling of doom and that it is all going to blow up in my face I will enjoy it while it lasts.

*Name has been changed to protect the innocent.

Days 42 - 45: The Breakthrough

I know I haven't posted in awhile. The clarity of sobriety and the reality of life have set in at Day 42.

I have made several realizations over the past few days about myself and who I truly am.

I realize that I have friends that resent me for who I am and who I have become. They judge me on their insecurities instead of my accomplishments. This has often frustrated me but now I realize that I have so many other friends who accept me for me. So those friendships will either slowly fade away or those friends will inevitably get it.

I realize that I also have many great friends. These friends make me go to facials, put me in a car after I’ve vomited on a table in a restaurant, exchange ideas with me, call to check on me, make me laugh, make me think, make me appreciate myself, keep me busy with painting during my sobriety, enjoy ‘80’s dance music as much as me, don’t judge me and most importantly, share my love of Anthropologie J and “The Mothership”. They are honest and lovely

I realize that I have finally found my place in New York. I have amazing co-workers who are true friends. They are “freaks” like me. They don’t fit into a box or conform to societal norms. They are good caring people marching to the beat of their own drums; as one can imagine our office is pretty noisy. They don’t put on a front; they don’t sweep anything under the rug. If someone is having a problem with a boyfriend, husband, partner or just an issue with how they feel about themselves they talk about it. They are messy, a little crazy and most importantly real. I know everything about my coworkers: from favorite sexual positions to hopes for their children.

I realized that I will always love him, but it doesn’t mean I don’t love you. I was at the gym reading Time Out New York while biking. As I flipped through the pages I came to Dusk Bar’s Napkin Idol. It hit me like a kick in the chest. Déjà vu of how WES and I discovered Napkin Idol. Biking at the gym is no time to tear up. As I look up from the magazine I notice the girl on the bike in front of me has a shirt for an early prevention run, in large font: September 9^th 2007. I’m overwhelmed at first, I can’t breath. Then I realize the coincidence and that Wes probably had something to do with this. Of course I’d prefer he visit me on my morning commute when I’m fresh faced and not sweaty. The gym is where I do most of my thinking, which is often about him, my life, and how to move on. Maybe this is his way of saying its OK. Does it make it any easier? No. Do I feel less pain when I think of him? Not an iota less. Can I make it through one verse of Pink’s Who Knew without changing the station? Not in the slightest. I used to like that song but now it just about ruins my day when I hear it.

I realize I may never get over it but I will accept it. Knowing him has brought so many great, wonderful people into my life. Although we no longer have him, we now have each other and that is a great thing. So in short, that last kiss I'll cherish until we meet again but I have to go and live my life so we have something to talk about when we do see each other again.

I realize that I absolutely cannot tolerate homophobia on any level. Unless you are hoping for a gay child, I’m seriously debating on whether I really want to be your friend. Maybe this stems from the fact that some of the most beautiful, fun, caring, awesome people that I know are gay. I actually have no toleration for any sort of prejudice. This is probably one of the reasons I will never leave NYC. I am too old to deal with ignorance.

So why was Gay Night so much fun and how did it bring me to realize all of this? During Gay Night I have never laughed so hard. . thanks to Os and Kellen. I had great conversations about my emotional crap with Jamie and Jena. Rebecca tried to set me up with a hot bartender. Dara made me realize that I am not the only person who hopes they have a gay child. Clark, Troy and Miss Monty give the best hugs and all have great asses. On Saturday I had brunch in Jersey City and ran into my good friend Katelyn. Then I headed over to SoHo to go shopping and stopped in at Burton to see my friend Adam. I love that I have become so connected to my community

So I am 45 days in. I have 5 days of sobriety left and yes I still want to drink. However, I don’t want to get shit faced right out. I want to make changes for the better and make myself better which I will do. Two-thousand and nine will be the year of V.A.

So I’m sorry that I did not have anything funny to say but I leave you with this. My friend Yuan sent this to me in an effort to make me feel better about my sobriety.

“Sometimes I feel like I’m the only non religious person who still favors the prohibition and secretly hopes that they somehow bring back the Volstead Act”

P.S. in honor of the fact that you can now download Jermaine Stewart's You Don't Have To Take Your Clothes Off

Day 41: Gay Night

What is Gay Night you ask. Gay Night is when the peeps from work go out for drinks and some chatter. Why do we call it Gay Night because most of the people I work with are gay, want to be gay, have tried being gay or are gay icons. So in short we love "the gay" and "gayness".

If you don't like gays, are homophobic or use the word "faggot". You're an asshole and can go to hell.

This is an email chain from my co-workers:

From: Oz
To: JD, Becs, V-Lo
Subject: freak show Fridays at G

You are going tomorrow right??????

--------------------------------------------------------------
From: Becs
To: JD, V-Lo, Oz
Subject: freak show Fridays at G

YES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

--------------------------------------------------------------
From: V-Lo
To: JD, Becs, Oz
Subject: freak show Fridays at G

Me too and I'm bringing friends!

--------------------------------------------------------------

From: Oz
To: JD, Becs, V-Lo
Subject: freak show Fridays at G

Nice try Jan, but you don't have any friends . . . . . . . .

Day 40!!! Only 10 days left!

I can't believe I have been sober for 40 days. It's a miracle and one that I would prefer never to be repeated.

Lately, people have been asking me about clarity, learning about myself and how I've probably become so enlightened on my sober journey. On a level I have been enlightened, but enlightenment, flowers, and puppies don't get blog hits so I'm going to defer to the part of my soul that is angst ridden and has a great disdain for sobriety.

My thought on clarity through sobriety is this: Clarity for a commitment phobic alcoholic aspiring to be a world class raging alcoholic who coincidentally has a biological clock ticking like a time bomb is a recipe for disaster. In short I do not advise ever giving up dependence on controlled substances.

I was posed this question, "Moderation?"

Moderation , hmm. I'll think about it, but I'm not making any promises. Because if moderation does not drowned out the ticking of the biological clock and sufficiently cloud my judgment then I want no part of it.

I'm seeking guidance from words of some wise people.

"I do not live in the world of sobriety." Oliver Reed - Well Ollie, I prefer not to either. It's kind of a square place where us pegs don't belong.

"I keep telling people: Don't make me the poster boy for AA because I don't know a lot about sobriety, but I do know a lot about drinking." Billy Joel - Amen brother! I doubt anyone is trying to make me the poster girl for anything but I, too, know a lot about drinking.

"There is nothing wrong with sobriety in moderation." John Ciardi - I think I'm going to with this. I feel it is best for all parties involved.

Day 39: Sobriety is ruining my life

I have realized that sobriety has led me to a sense of clarity or I'm crazy and alcohol makes me normal . . . I'm not sure but I think the next 11 days are going to be long ones.

So my good friend Veronica Weinstein and I had a conversation about sobriety:

Me: I think sobriety is making me crazy.
Veronica: You're not crazy. You're awesome.
Me: That's sweet but I'm really going crazy. I need a drink, it makes me normal.
Veronica: Sobriety makes people moody.
Me: I'm not moody anymore, just ancy. I need to have sex.
Veronica: No alcohol and no sex! Whoa, you're a nun.
Me: The not having sex is purely accidental. It's hard to go out and sleep with random people when alcohol is not involved.
Veronica: So are you experiencing any sort of clarity then?
Me: Yes, exactly and I hate it.
Veronica: Clarity is what people strive for.
Me: Well those people are stupid. I need a drink to cloud my judgment and make me whole again.

I'm afraid that over the next 11 days I will impale myself on a broken bottle of bourbon.

Above is an image of a guy smashing a bottle of wine on his head. I'd kind of like to do that right now then drowned in the wine. Fuck my life.

Day 38: Alcohol Withdrawal

So recently I have developed an eye twitch. This is not something particularly new as I usually development them in stressful situations. However, my eye twitch intensified, so I got a little nervous.

Like any other person in the medical industry I logged on to WebMD. Thinking that I had Multiple Sclerosis or a brain tumor, I went right to the symptom checker. Actually I didn't go right to the symptom checker, I made a quick detour to Bye, Bye, Cellulite - which was bullshit . . don't say it unless you mean it.

Now I'm at the symptom checker and I type in "eye twitching". A list of symptom clarifiers comes up. I click on "Involuntary/abnormal movements of the eyelid" which happens to be exactly what I am experiencing. I click go and what comes up under conditions? Alcohol intoxication or withdrawal. I shit you not! So I google "alcohol withdrawal symptoms" and what comes up? Involuntary/abnormal movements of the eyelid among other things.

That's some bullshit. I'm officially going through alcohol withdrawal. I can't wait to start drinking again so my eye will stop twitching. Fucking A!


I had a conversation recently that went a little like this:

Oz: That woman is so old she was around when the original American flag was sewn
Becs: Yeah, by Betsy Johnson.
Me: Nope, wrong Betsy. Betsy Ross. Although Betsy Johnson does look like she's about 230 years old.

You can't hate on Betsy J., she makes a mean pair of undies.

Day 37: When I was drunk . . . .

A list of things I used to do when I was drunk:

1. Drunk dial - I know, everyone does this
2. Make out with random strangers - I'd do this sober if the mood struck me
3. Watch this video - funniest shit ever

4. Run through the streets of State College without a shirt on or sometimes in nothing but a scarf
5. Eat an entire pizza by myself
6. Hang out with homeless people and buy them burgers from McDonalds
7. Do rails off the ass of a stripper . . . not really, it was off of my student government binder with Barnes
8. Do shots of tequila off of Kellen's stomach
9. Go to work drunk
10. Drink pitchers of Long Island Iced Tea
11. Drink wine from a box
12. Polish off a bottle of Boone's Farm over lunch then go to class . . . or skip class and go the bar
13. Drink Night Train with Capps
14. Fall on the dance floor
15. Sing Leaving on a Jet Plane
16. Give love humps - this stopped after some guy named Bob exposed himself in Kate and Geanny's dorm room
17. Keg stands
18. Do "waterfalls" with a bottle of Jack - no mixer- God, I was way cooler then!

Day 35 and 36: Hello, My name is V-Lo and I'm addict

Day 35

Sobriety has been a bit of a journey. I've discovered so much about myself and one thing that I realized is that I'm an addict. All of my life I have been surrounded by drug addicts and I realize for the first time that I too am an addict. Some would say that I'm addicted to being in control, to having things in order, alcohol, and maybe to always being right. What I have really been addicted to for about three years (on and off) was a person. For arguments sake we'll call him the Gemini. I've shook him off twice once for someone that I truly fell in love with, a person that I thought was perfect and who I inevitably lost and a second time more recently. I was excited at the prospect of something new and unknown. Of course that all went to shit when I get an phone call from him recently. He shared some really great news with me and it put me on shaky ground. I'm not going to hold my breath but I can be hopeful.

Speaking of holding my breath . . . on Friday I was waiting for the subway home to Jersey City. The train pulls up and there is an empty car between to relatively full cars. Now, if you are from NYC you know this means one of two things: the heating/cooling is messed up or there is an extremely smelly homeless person on the train. I took a peak and didn't see anyone on the train but I didn't really feel up for taking a gamble so I hopped on one of the adjacent cars. As the train left the station I expected train goers from the sparse car to move into our car. When I didn't see that happen I figured there was nothing wrong with that train car and thought I would move into it at the next station. Well when the train made it to the 9th street station there was a mad exodus from the train car.  Usually when a train car is unbearable people will exit at the end of the car while the train is moving. Since that didn't happen I was kind of intrigued. So as the sparse car refugees entered our subway car I turned down my iPod to find out what had driven them from the less empty car comforts.  Well apparently a homeless guy with a sense of humor took a dump at each end of the subway car blocking all in transit exits. So those poor people had to suffer on full train stop. 

Day 36

According to my OB/GYN god is not punishing me for being a slut. It's actually quite the opposite. When you are not having sex very often it can affect the hormones in your body leading to heavy and difficult periods. So, yes, I need to handle that. She told me "to make friends." I told her that I gave up drinking so I'm not feeling all that social. She responded with, "Oh, no, that's not good."

14 days  . . .

Conversation with my friend Chantel

Me: I really need a glass of wine, won't someone give me a fucking glass of wine?

Chantel: You can do it!

Me: I know, I know. I just have to make the last 14 days

Chantel: I'll just drink the wine for you and you can smell my breath.

Me: Thank you, that is awfully kind of you.

Chantel: You can even kiss me!

Me: That's a sign of a good friend. I'm so glad I have a friend like you.

Day 34 - Ying's Birthday

So today was Ying's birthday. She and I spent the day lunching, getting mani/pedi's and doing some light shopping. 

Around 5:30 we headed over to Duke's to meet up with some friends for a celebratory dinner. 

We pulled up to a nice little table in the bar area. I ordered Ying a Pina Colada and a virgin Strawberry Daiquiri for myself. I was going to order a Pina Colada as well but I was afraid that I might mix our drinks up and I didn't want to take any chances. I sucked that thing back like it was filled with 151.

This was my first group outing since my sobriety decree and I'd say it went well. I realize that I can still be fun and entertaining while also being sober. My friend Robin proceeded to tell me that it would be impossible for me to just have one drink. So after my fifty days sober I will do 50 days just one drink. Of course I will be spending most of my time at Arriba, Arriba drinking their bath tub sized margarita's. She said just one drink, she didn't specify how big that drink might be.

Last night was almost like I was drinking. When I went down to the ladies room I noticed that my eyeliner was smudged and my shirt was a little disheveled. It was like I'd been pounding Jack&Ginger's all night. I felt sort of normal  for the first time in 34 days!! Some cute guys flirted with me in the bathroom line.  That was a plus.

After dinner I headed home while the rest of the group headed to a bar.  I have had the worst cramps of my life. I think it's god's way of punishing me for being such a slut.

I received an interesting phone call this evening. It was great phone call actually, almost too good to be true. But it got me thinking that if you just chill out and let go, things will come together.

This was my horoscope today: You are at the point in life when you can sit back and relax -- so why don't you. 

Well Mr. Horoscope, I am trying.

Day 33: I'm so fucking LAME!!

Sobriety is ruining my life.

My blog posts are getting boring. I'm getting boring.

Ugghhh. I so need to drink.

I had the day off from work. Now, if I was drinking I would have gone out last night, got tanked and woke up this morning around 11am. Last night I stayed up watching LMN till 3am. I woke up at 9am and started doing laundry and then

went and ran errands. I came home and watched a Gay-cia flick (Here On Earth - terrible Gay-cia) ate a salad then went back out to finish my errands.

I spent my evening watching ABC's Thursday night line up. (Aside - Owen Hunt on Grey's is fucking hot! and In the Motherhood is prit-tey funny)

So back to the many reason as to why I am lame. I bring nothing to the table sober. I'm not funny or sarcastic. I'm terribly nice which as most of you know isn't really my thing. Sobriety makes me a little calm and let's be real . . .I'm not particularly calm.

Fuck my life!!!!!!!!!! I have 17 days. All I want is a crisp glass of Chardonnay.

So tomorrow I am taking Ying out for her birthday. Maybe I can be social and pick up a guy . . . . . I seriously need to put my whore master hat to work.

Happy Birthday Ying!!!

So I Google searched images "chugging a bottle" . Displayed here are all of the images that came up in the search. WE SALUTE YOU!

Day 32

Today was the last day of pitching . . . for a little bit anyway.  I will take the next two days off to get my life back in order. 

So Friday I am going to "gay night" at g-bar. "Gay night" is a frequent outing where my co-workers go to our favorite gay bar and drink frozen Apple Martini's. Of course I will not be partaking in the drinking the martini's. My boss is urging me to go so that I can hit on the hot straight bartender. Is it weird that I am going to a gay bar to hit on straight guy? If you know me, this is very apropos.

I miss alcohol. I think the lack of alcohol is making me soft.

Also, I seriously need to have sex. My roommate offered up his underage friend Santos.  Santos is not his real name but I never bothered to commit his actual name to memory after our initial interlude. 

On a separate note: it's nice to see some of my friends coming around. For the first few weeks I felt like a leper. Only my pregnant friends wanted to talk to me.  All the drinkers . . . . crickets

Day 31

I woke up today with some bad PMS. I'm a little frustrated because I usually don't get my period until Thursday or Friday so at this point its two days early . . . and that is some bullshit. I realize that this is probably happening because usually, when I am drinking, I don't take my birth control correctly leading to overlap in hormone packs. Thus shorter periods. Insight: I need to start drinking again. 

So my company has had sort of a march madness pitch season and I have been working long hours with one of the partners that is from the UK. She is has a classy British accent. I often pick up accents very quickly.  But lately I find that after spending so much time with her that the voice in my head has developed a British accent which coincidentally lead to less cursing.  Saying "fuck" in my head with a British accent just didn't seem proper. Of course, this all clearly doesn't seem normal. Insight: I'm overworked to the point of delirium and really need a drink to pull myself out of this. 

Day 30 - Why I am better than you!!!!!!

My blog is called 50 Days Sober, Why I am better than Jesus. I'm better than Jesus because he only suffered for 40days and I'm suffering for 10 more than that!

Now onto why I am better than you. In short, I'm usually not but today is the exception.

So after playing three soccer matches last night I woke up very stiff and not feeling so well this morning. I took a hot shower, then warmed my legs up with a heating pad and headed into the office. The first thing I heard when I arrived at work was "You look gorgeous today!"

Now who said this to me you might ask? . . . an extremely hot, sexy, smart lesbian, slash colleague and partner in crime, Jamie. If I were to create an avatar of what I wanted to look like and who I'd want to be, she would be exactly like Jamie. And Jamie is so pretty that her beauty rivals that of Angelina Jolie (I shit you not).

Of course this story might have gone differently had I been off the wagon. It probably would have involved pillow fights, hair pulling, a white corvette, Warrant and girls making out. Obviously way better than how it actually went down.

P.S. my key to looking gorgeous I think has to do with the fact that I started brushing my hair again.

So on day 30 of my sobriety it seems that things are looking up. Now if I could only find the male equivalent of Jamie my life would be perfect.

Jamie has also taken a similar sobriety journey except she hit the 100 day mark . . .which is why she is better than all of us.

Days 28 and 29

Day 28

It is another weekend in the world of sobriety. The weekends are always the toughest. This weekend was shaping up to be even tougher since I was banished, by my boss, from doing any work related things. So I was pretty much being left to my own devices.

I painted round 2 of Baby Jackson's Nursery Jungle. This took me a good part of the day which was great because it kept me out of trouble.

On my way home from baby Jackson's I stopped to get some gas and a snack at the Quick Check. I was waiting in line behind a group of guys who had clearly been pre-gaming. I could smell the luscious scent of Natty Ice emanating from their breathe. I scooted closer to take in the aroma of barley and hops. I was about two seconds from spontaneously making out with one of them just to taste the remnant flavor of cheap skank beer . . . . I'm not sure I'm going to make it another 22days.

Day 29

This is the first day in weeks where I have a block of 8 hours that is not planned. So I decide to spend the morning in bed watching VH1. I caught up on Rock of Love, Tough Love and For the Love of Ray Jay. I'm not sure I dig For the Love of Ray J. I had to change the channel twice out of embarrassment, the train wreck was so bad I had to look away.

I've decided that I need to be more social while I am sober. I seriously need to find some guy to make out with because it is unlikely that my roommate will surrender the DVR remote batteries for me to re-insert in to my vibrator.

I'm not very good at sober flirting. But I figured I'd make an attempt over the next couple of weeks. My opportunity came sooner than expected. The ref for my indoor soccer game was quite cute and flirty. I did some minimal sober, sweaty girl flirty. It went O.K. I figure I'll try sober but not sweaty girl flirting in the the near future.

P.S. My indoor soccer team went undefeated this season!

So recently I was having a conversation with my Uncle Willy. One thing that I realize lately with adult figures in my life is that I'm old enough to realize that there really are no adults. Once you hit 25 shit stays the same you just go gray, bald and possibly get fat. But for the most part you'll be dealing with the same stuff now (at 27) that you will be dealing with when your 45 but I digress . . . . . .

So my uncle was telling me that he is going to dust off his "whore master" hat. I, needless to say, was very entertained by this phrase coming out of my uncle's mouth. He informed me that "whore master" was a title given to him as a young gent. Of course shortly after he was bestowed that honorable title he got married. So the "whore master" hat went in the closet. Now, impending a possible divorce he decided it was time to bring it out. I kindly asked if he could swap the "whore master" hat for his Officer Cream Puff mustache. He said, "No!"

Let me back up here a bit, so my little brother is a bit of a "dawg". He is a charmer with the ladies and has no problem finding a different one for every day of the week. Now, of course I make fun of him for this. But then he kindly reminds me that I'm also a carrier of what he calls the "lope dawg gene". This gene comes from my father (note: see previous post about crackhead dating) who seems to always have a lady or multiple ladies.

While I was talking to my Uncle Willy I realized that we have "dawg" genes on both sides of our family. So, alas, my need to taste all of the flavors in the ice cream cooler is genetic, therefore I can't be held accountable for my actions. However, this by no means implies that I am a cheater or date more than one guy at a time. It just implies that I probably will sleep with you but that does not necessarily imply I want to ever talk to you again. I mean that in the kindest way possible.

Day 27: Alistair is a CUNT!

Why is Alistair a cunt? I guess my story of Pisserfest was incorrect. Of course I was only told this story while drunk by drunkards, so I apologize for any historical inaccuracy.  For the real story see the poor grammar and proper grammar versions in the comments section of Day 26.

Ugly Betty Watchers - I kind of love her new boyfriend Matt!

So my sister and I were talking on the phone today. We were discussing our status as single women and I brought up the fact that we can't get it together yet my father seems to always have a girl friend.

Let me tell you a little bit about my father. He is 49 years old, he has disfigured arm, and a scar going down the back of his head (both from some guy who came after him with a machete), he is balding which is moot since he has to shave his head because his scar is so bad that he can't grow hair on his head anymore. My father has track marks on both arms and bad teeth from drug use. The icing on my father's cake is that he is co-infected with Hep C and HIV. Now, one would think that with all of this working against him that it would be difficult for him to find a significant other . . .well I guess my father is charming and may have once been good looking which trumps some women's need to date a guy with good teeth and no risk of contracting an STD, but what do I know.

Yet for as long as I can remember my dad has always had a girlfriend. And not like some chick to sleep around with.  Like a real girlfriend, committed (well as committed as crackheads can be) and living together  . . . .the whole-nine yards.  Yet I can not manage to conjure a relationship that lasts longer than a rotation of Next Top Model. Now some of his girlfriends were not exactly runners up for Miss New England but most aren't that bad (for crackheads anyway). One would ask what this has to do with sobriety. Well I'm not really sure but it might have something to do my lack of sobriety up-to-this point.

p.s. Sometimes Betty pisses me off!

Day 26: Over the hump!!!!!

So today is the first day of the rest of my 50 days sober. 

I had a pretty mundane day today. I woke up weighed myself and wished I hadn't.  So I answered my scale with 50 minuets of cardio at the gym.

I realized on the train today that there has been an influx of hot guys to Jersey City. Sweet!

So being that I got nothing I am going to high light Pisserfest.

Pisserfest

What is Pisserfest you ask? Well one of our buddies at Penn State got so drunk during homecoming '00 that he pissed in his closet.  Yep. . . . this is how it went.  That particular homecoming was awesome! Tens of kegs were kicked, shots were taken and our buddy went back to his dorm and passed out.  He woke up in the middle of the night and made his way to the bathroom to take a leak.  He discovered the next morning that the bathroom he thought he took a leak in was actually his closet. 

To commemorate this drunken act and a great weekend of partying, Pisserfest was born. The goal of Pisserfest is to kill as many kegs as possible.  I think the most we ever killed over a Pisserfest weekend were 14 kegs. Yes, One Four!  We were so awesome then.