Working is Hard to Do

26 11 2012

I spend my days with water, lemonade, soda, champagne, and who knows what else everywhere, get splashed with backwash, carrying heavy things, sweeping the floor, and plating desserts. It is hard work. I don’t get paid much; well, maybe somewhere else, if I was someone else, who had cheaper taste, who wasn’t exposed to better and more expensive things.

The worst part? I’m not really at all mentally stimulated, I’m prideful enough to feel above it, and have just a hard enough time to feel stupid. Also, I feel like I’m being constantly corrected or watched, which is  making me paranoid. In short, I am not having happy fun times. If anything was incentive to get a real job and finish my degree, it would be this. I need to make a budget and save for school. Quickly.


Today I spent a sizable chunk  of money on…LUSH STUFF! YAY! God, that stuff is not cheap. But the Buffy Bar  (exfoliating and moisturizing) made me feel soft and smell good, and there was a green bath bomb that fizzed in the water that made all my aches go away. I felt completely pampered, and that was totally worth it. Also, I got a giant ginger snap cookie. Mm, chewy and spice.

I have to get back on plan tomorrow. I haven’t tracked since Thanksgiving, I’ve been eating all kinds of stuff. Back on track tomorrow. I can’t believe how easy it was to get off track! I thought it was just going to be for Thanksgiving, and now it’s three days later and I’m all ‘Yay chocolates and cookies and sweet potato casserole’. I probably gained weight, but I’m not going to stress about it. Back on plan tomorrow.


British Boy and I are penfriends now, and we e-mail every day at least a couple times. Of course I want him to be my long distance boyfriend, but I’m pretty sure that he’s not interested in that. Which is just frustrating, because he’s sweet, and flirty, and cute, and makes me smile. I am crushing so hard. But c’est la vie. No, no c’est la vie. I want him to be my boyfriend, and I’m only sex and penfriend material. Man, between this and my job my self esteem is taking a beating! …I wish I was Stephen King. …except not. I just want to be able to pay for myself my way, in a way that I don’t find beneath me. (Wow, that was arrogant.) But, I’ll be honest, I think I’m too smart for the job I have. Like the rest of my generation. Oy vey. Okay, time for sleep.


Sincerely yours,



My Little Brother’s Values Suck Hard

18 11 2012


Also, he thinks I’m a total dork. (I am a dork, but not in a bad way.) It’s disheartening when I remember how he used to think I hung the moon. (I like that phrase, hung the moon. It’s a bit romantic. Old world romantic, not kissy kissy romantic.)

All he cares about is fashion and looking cool and not doing anything and smoking weed and blah blah blah. I know, he’s a teenager and all teenagers are the despair of their parents and maturing older siblings. But it’s a little frustrating, especially when I’m still stuck in my old bedroom, and he’s seen as having all the potential, and I want to smack him and tell him not to throw it away, you never get a second chance! But I might as well talk to myself, for all that he hears me. He thinks he’s the wise one.

I know I wasn’t that arrogant when I was that age. (Granted, I had the self esteem of a kicked spaniel that’s slightly incontinent, but still. I have never assumed I knew everything. About the only thing I make assumptions about is gravity, because if I didn’t I would try to bounce to work.)

I guess I’ll just leave him be as best I can, but it does hurt my feelings and make me wish we could try to have an actual relationship again. Maybe when he finishes college and I have my first baby or something, it’ll work out.


I woke up at 6:30 AM. On a Saturday. For work. It is now ten minutes to midnight, and I’m still up. Crap. I have to go let the dog out to pee. Be right back.

Okay, back.  He didn’t even want to go out, but I am not getting up at 3:30 in the morning because he wants to pee then. Anyway.

I woke up very early, I worked until a little past 5:30, and then I took the train home. But I am in a good mood, for a reason that’s a bit silly. Or quite silly, really. British Boy and I spent the whole day texting back and forth until he shot me his e-mail because international text rates are too expensive. I haven’t e-mailed him because I don’t want to seem creepy, but he’s so damn cute. It’s a little ridiculous. But it makes me smile. We’ll never meet again, probably drop out of contact, but he made me smile.

And I got my first paycheck too! YAY! It’s tiny, but it’s my money, that I earned! It feels so good, and I have purpose that exists beyond playing with imaginary people in my head! …that really doesn’t give credence to my chosen profession.


I’m going to talk about body confidence for a bit. According to my Weight Watchers Planner, I have lost…(drum roll)…38.8 pounds! I AM SO HAPPY! When I look at that number it’s like drinking sparkling cider and spinning until I’m dizzy. To get to my healthy weight range I have to hit 141, which is…(quick math) 18 pounds away. But I think I can do it. I already feel much more comfortable in my body now, it’s easier to do exercise when I don’t get tired after one flight of stairs.

And still there’s still nothing like someone that you find attractive saying that you’re  attractive. Hot. It makes you preen. I’ll try to remember how I feel now the next time I’m down on myself.

Everyone, try to look at yourself and be happy! ::dances an internal ‘I’m too sexy’ dance:: I am too tired to dance physically.

And on that note, it’s almost 1:30 in the morning. I am sleepy. This post took forever because I have the attention span of a four year old sometimes.


Sincerely yours,


A Night Out That Was Awesome

16 11 2012

This post will talk about sex. And sex clubs. Not really safe for work.

Big C and I went to a swing club. It was so seedy, it was awesome. Also there were many transsexual women, which made Big C go all ‘…I don’t get it.’ (Some of them were old enough to be my grandmother. MAJOR squick factor.) And then there were very sketchy guys. Big C and I were morbidly enjoying the ambiance, but except for one thing, we probably would have left. The fetish room was sketchy and dark, the orgy room was full of men and transwomen, all of whom were scary looking, it smelled like sex and cigarettes…it was a mess. Except for that one thing.

Oh, that one thing. Well, not a thing. A man. My favorite type of man: a skinny white boy. I spotted him the second I walked in. And as a bonus: He had a British accent! I, like many many American girls, love British accents. It’s like ‘Yeah, baby, talk to me, that accent is like rolling on velvet naked.’

So Big C and I strike up a conversation with him, and we’re all laughing and having a good time. British Boy says he’s happy we’re there because he feels a little like a target. (It was true, people were looking at him like he was a piece of meat. Granted, so was I, but I’m not a six foot tall sixty year old transwoman, so I guess I’m less scary/more appealing?) British Boy is bi, and just my type, and I want him so bad, I could taste it. But he didn’t make a move, even though we were flirting like crazy. And we’re in a sex club for God’s sake, so I assume that he’s not interested.

Then Big C proves why he is awesome and mortifying all at once. He goes ‘Yeah, she really wants to fuck you’, and I’m blushing, and British Boy is too, and then we were looking at each other, and our touch barrier was breaking; my knee pressing against his, our fingers brushing, and finally we get up, and kiss. And we kissed well together-he was taller than me, almost a foot taller-oh yeah, I was happy.

We went into a private room-it was sketchy as hell, but it was clean. And oh we were kissing-there is nothing like someone who meshes with you when you kiss.

And the sex? Let’s put it this way-I had a glow for hours afterwards. Unrepentant, biting, scratching, let the people next door sex. Awesome.

Of course, he’s going back to England, and I’ll never see him again, so my number goes up by one and I regret that I can’t even have a sex friend. I think I’m seeking a connection, but I’m also sabotaging myself because I seek out people who are unavailable, emotionally or otherwise.

Though for some reason he asked for my number, so we exchanged digits. (Does anyone say exchanged digits anymore?) Like I’m going to call him? I sent him a text and he responded to that one but not to the next one, and that’s all. I was surprised he asked for my number at all. It was nice of him though, so it was a little less like ‘Hi thanks for the sex bye’ thing.

I don’t feel guilty about the sex, because that was awesome. I just think I’m a little lonely. I want more cuddles. (Which British Boy gave me, but it would be nice to have on a continuous basis.) I think, subconsciously  that I still think that sex is all I’m good for, that it’s the only way anyone will praise me that I can accept. (And who doesn’t want to hear that they’re hot, that their body is beautiful, that they’re good at…certain things.) But still, I want more than that.

I deserve more than that.

Well, I should wrap this up. I have other things to do and I have to get up at 6:30 in the morning for work.

Sincerely yours,


Being the Most Liberal In My Family

7 11 2012


I am happy Obama won. I’m pretty liberal, so I wasn’t going to vote for Romney anyway, but I think Obama will be more supportive of women’s rights.


I was talking with my aunt, who didn’t vote. Most of my family doesn’t, besides my mom. But my aunt said she would have voted for Obama. However, when I bought up Planned Parenthood, which will hopefully stay around for a long time, my aunt said that she didn’t like them, because they perform abortions. (Like that’s all Planned Parenthood does.) And we got into the abortion debate. Now, like I said, I’m a liberal, and I am very pro choice. My aunt is not, and insists life begins at conception. It was quite interesting to talk about it with her, as she has very strong convictions about it. But I think that ‘pro lifers’ (I don’t like that term, it’s not like pro choice people go around committing infanticide and forcing abortions on women) are unrealistic, illogical, and don’t seem to care what happens to the babies once they’re born. Not every baby born in this world, right now, is a wanted child. There are children who are neglected and abandoned by their parents because their parents never really wanted to have them in the first place, children who end up in foster care because their parents can’t care for them. Why make more? I do agree that people shouldn’t be using abortion as birth control, because that’s just irresponsible, but if you’re being careful because you don’t want a baby, why should you be forced to carry one to term?


My aunt said that an unborn baby could grow up to cure cancer. I think that’s a rather stupid argument, because they could also grow up to be a burden on society, or for dramatic effect, a serial killer.


And my aunt also seems to think that motherhood is something that you should just accept, if it’s a possibility. It’s ridiculous. You should choose to be a parent. I hope one day that I will be ready to be a mother. No one should say ‘you have to be a mother’, especially when there seems to be far less pressure on a man to be a father. It’s true that many will think less of a man for not taking care of his child, but if a woman doesn’t want to be a mother, I think people see that as a worse thing.


Then there’s adoption. I think adoption is a beautiful thing, a wonderful way to build a family. However, I don’t think that it should be seen as the only alternative to parenting. I would never say to someone that didn’t want to parent a child that they should just give the child up for adoption. You would have to go through an entire pregnancy, which is very taxing physically and emotionally, then give birth, which by all accounts is no walk in the park, and then hand the result over to someone else. It’s not like giving away a pair of shoes or something.

And what if your job requires you not to be pregnant? You’re a model, a trainer, a construction worker? You work around chemicals or drive a lot? Are you supposed to be broke for months or look for a new job so a baby you don’t even want can grow? I don’t get it. I really don’t.

All I really know is this: Abortion is legal, I am fine with it, and no one is going to tell me or any other woman that they have to have a baby just because they got pregnant. Partly because I don’t want to end up like my cousins, who have a kid apiece, each by a guy who they aren’t with (one’s a drug addict and the other’s just a jerk), and who don’t seem to be going so far.

I am so the odd one out in my family. Not religious, not conservative, open minded…intelligent. …that was mean. Besides, my mother and my brother are pretty smart. (My mother is sort of old fashioned and my brother is an image obsessed teenager who thinks he knows everything and believes the Illuminati controls everything, which is either true and there’s nothing I can do about it, and thus I don’t care, or isn’t true, and thus I don’t care.)

I also despair that as we get older, we become less idealistic. My mother won’t even talk about hot button issues anymore, for the most part.



Okay, calmer now. But I did it! I managed to secure a job. I appear competent and professional and I WILL DO MY BEST SO THAT MAYBE THEY WILL KEEP ME! If they don’t keep me, at least I will have some money until I find something else and I will write more and save for school and I might be okay!  I am 75% excited and 25% nervous. I will breathe.


Way more snow then I thought there was gonna be. I hope it’s a little clearer tomorrow so I don’t have to be heading to my first day in my puffy coat and lined galoshes. If I must, then I will dress as professionally as possible underneath. I find it a little bit funny because my dress for work is going to be restaurant black and white, but oh well.


For tonight, I will relax, try to sleep well, and get off to a good start tomorrow.  Thanks for reading!


Sincerely yours,