Excuse me while I act the part of Irrational Girl... When I was very small, my parents were convinced that they had concieved the next Broadway star...

And were they right... Only I couldn't really sing. And I never did like to dance. But boy did I love the spotlight. I loved to get up on stage and conjur up everything I had, with the most stage presence you have ever seen coming out of a four year old.

I was a SUPERSTAR

I grew up, and quickly realized that I had no desire to be famous. Only I still loved the spotlight, and I can still put on one hell of a show.

I do alright for myself. But sometimes, this insatiable urge to act a part overwhelms me, today I played the role of irrational girl. Irrational Girl who had some serious damage. Irrational girl who was very... Irrational...

Irrational girl was deeply perterbed at another for something she does herself.

But irrational girl kept it in check. Irrational girl was a good little drama queen and kept it all inside of her head.

Take a bow, irrational girl, for a job well done.  ¶ 10:12 PM 2 comments

  This is a typical days worth of conversation for me. So... As you may know, the demon PMS has moved in.

The Demon PMS makes one do some crazy things.

The Demon PMS makes one request crazy things of their friends, that are in fact, crazy.

And everyone with half of a brain knows this.

And everyone who is not being inhabited with the demon PMS will try their hardest to cease crazed actions. This rarely works.

But to prove my point, I will share with you a conversation.

Elle: Are you sure? What is the closest designer item to you?

Me: Yes I am sure. There are no designer anythings near me at the moment. But I can swear on my computer.

Elle: No, No, No that won't do... Find something designer. Stat. I am sure there is a handbag littering your floor somewhere.

Me: Fine, I swear on my Chanel's.

Elle: Repeat after me. I do solemnly swear on my Chanel sunglasses that if my body were not possessed by the mental illness, PMS, I would still want you to do this.

Me: ((repeats))

Elle: Continue repeating, And I am sure that I do not want you to wait for three to five days before continuing with this course of action.

Me: ((repeats again))

Elle: And once out of your PMS illness state, do you solemnly swear to not hold the consequences of this PMS action against me, if there should be any?

Me: Yes, I swear.

Elle: You really are ill. Really. Ill.  ¶ 8:29 PM 1 comments

  ((insert creepy carnival music here)) PMS has moved into my body two days early.

Let me just say that for anyone out there who has never experienced the monster... It is a hellish nightmare filled with PMS Carney food, freak shows, and illusions of the mind.

All in all it is like being stuck at a three day long circus gone terribly wrong.

Forget the peanuts and icecream of the regular circus. This is hell's circus- at hell's circus, the cuisine is simply Carbohydrates, in any way you can consume them... Chocolate, in mass quantities... and Popcicles, which is unique to my Hell circus.

Freak shows happen left and right at the PMS hell circus. Three times a day you will see my head swell, detach from my shoulders squirt blood, spin around, and then, as fast as it detached, it reattaches and I become civil again. That is only one of the strange things you will see here.

Illusions of the mind. Oh the illusions. This is where we females get the lable of 'irrational bitch' but in truth, it is just a carney flaw. You simply, see things that do not exist. You hear things that do not exist. All in all everything that is upsetting does NOT exist.

Welcome one, welcome all to the PMS hell Carney that has invaded my body. But hurry, it is a limited engagement of three days, and tickets are selling fast.  ¶ 8:21 AM 0 comments

  Passive Aggressive Dinner Theat-Re Part Deux Lets talk snooping.

What is the line between snooping and general curiosity?

For sure, rumaging through drawers, closets, etc. not knowing what you are looking for but looking for something... Is definately snooping. DEFINATELY. And I do not condone this activity.

But as my very intelligent brother points out over and over again... Life is a gray area. I struggle with which shade I should occupy.

SO this leads me to my question of the day... If you know the location of something, can you look at it? If you have the key to something, can you open it? And with this logic, when does it become a problem?  ¶ 6:34 AM 1 comments

  Passive Aggressive Dinner Theat-Re. So, I am thinking of renaming my blog "Passive Aggressive Dinner Theatre"

It can be my place to rant, sans the names, about the things that I think of daily.

Hence- Passive Agressive Dinner Theatre. We will serve Spaghetti and Truthballs Daily.

We will try this on for size.

Rant Number One: At what point does one become a born again virgin?.... At what point does one consider joining a convent?.... And if you are willingly not having sex does that time frame go down?.... And if it at the hands of the universe, do you get to count it?.... What are the rules?

I am DYING to know.  ¶ 1:07 PM 0 comments

  I had this roommate, Mich...

Mich was a Maine-ard. Relocated to the Sunshine state...

She met this boy, Marcus.

Marcus had just been broken up with. But she did it anyways. They got closer and closer and closer...

She began spending the night at his house. And every morning she woke up to a large 11 x 17 photograph of the ex, Ellen.

We all laughed, we all joked. But secretly, it drove her crazy.

So what did she do? She embraced it. She began talking to Ellen before she went to sleep, after her and Marcus **Ahem** Exercised... And in the morning, before she left, she kissed the picture goodbye.

Ellen became her religion. Ellen became her relic.

I love that story.  ¶ 10:27 AM 1 comments

  Bliss I had a wonderful, long overdue conversation with my dear and darling friend .Little wing the other day.

This girl and I have been through some serious shit together. And always, she stood beside me. Whether she agreed or not, whether she was angry or not, or whether she was happy about it or not.

This girl sat up on the roof with me while I chainsmoked, dissecting all of the parts of my life in 2001.

This girl bought me my most prized posession, that I still sleep with every night in 2002... (Get your mind out of the gutter, it is a blanket)

This girl piloted the 'Girls Against the Superbowl party' with me in 2003.

This girl is my heart and soul.

This girl knows more about me than I know about myself sometimes... We were talking about happiness. About my happiness in general. She was there with me during college, part one. She was there with me during my Disney Stint, and she was there with me after the Disney thing... And she is still with me, even if I don't get to see her daily.

She made me realize something. I am really really happy. My life is happy. Things are going well. Because, I am happy.

And Happiness is fucking amazing  ¶ 9:15 PM 0 comments

  Oh how I love my Twenty- Four Year old Metabolism As I sat watching a movie on Monday night, I swear to you that I could feel my fat cells engorging. I swear. I could feel my chin turning into two, I could feel my ass spreading to be so large that it was coming dangerously close to needing two seats on airplanes, and I could feel my gut turning to Bill Cosby's favorite snack.

I know you think I am kidding, but sadly I am not.

The next morning, I woke up, stepped on the scale, and had gained seven pounds. For those of you who don't know what seven pounds is, it is the equivalent of smearing twenty eight (Yes... TWENTY EIGHT) sticks of butter randomly about your body. Gross.

Something had to be done.

Say it with me: Salad, Egg whites, Vegetables, and Grilled Chicken...

And I have lost 2.5 pounds!!!!!! Now, only twenty pounds to go.  ¶ 8:18 AM 1 comments

  I had this dream that I was about to get my ass kicked by a bunch of latin gang members last night.

I dreamed that I was dressed like a latin thug.

I have come to a very obvious conclusion: I don't think it would be too thrilling to get my ass kicked.

But really, the funniest part of the dream was waking up... I woke up, scared out of my mind because I was wearing ghetto clothes. And bandanas. And really oversized shirts.

My inner self found it scarier that I was a fashion victim than the fact that I was getting my ass kicked...

Does that make any sense?  ¶ 7:04 PM 0 comments

  Taking a Moment to Mourn Way back in the days PB (pre blogging) I stumbled onto the whole blogging regime by accident.

The first blog I fell upon was Secret Simon. Secret Simon was a man who had two young children, a lovely wife, and a home in the suburbs of a sunshine state. Life, on the exterior, was seemingly good. One small problem: he was gay.

Simon chronicled his coming out, and other life happenings.

It was, to say the very least, inspirational to me. The idea of seemingly perfect exteriors and ravaged interiors was something that I knew all too well. The fact that no body knew what I was dealing with was also something that I knew all too well. The idea of keeping up appearances was less than foreign to me.

Recently, Simon divulged his voice. After divulging his voice, he divulged his face. Then Simon let people know his real name.

Then Simon did something that all of us will do eventually... Simon quit writing. He has said his goodbyes and packed up. Onto bigger and better things.

I am sincerely happy that he has made the decision that works best for him. I wish him well, but I think in all the time that I have been reading his blog, I forgot to say thank you. Simon, even though our stories have precious little in common, your blog meant the world to me. It wasn't just a good soap opera read, it was so much more...  ¶ 9:09 AM 2 comments

  Brings a tear to the eye.... For your viewing pleasure, I have declared that you, the people, can take a stroll down memory lane in the form of pictures, with me.


Me and my Florida roomies. Yes, these are cheesy Christmas cards that people with two kids and a dog send out, and yes we had them made. Because we were family too. I love these girls. That was seriously, a great time.


This is me and June after a 'cheer up' shopping spree at target. Notice the Power Puff Girls Watch that I am sporting. Also notice our t shirts, they had the Power Puff Girls on them too. We were matching from head to toe, including our shoes. It was very lame. But so funny.  ¶ 9:47 AM 0 comments

 
And this is another Florida Picture. We rode test track six times in a row. This was picture number six. Notice my very dark tan. Another really good day.



And finally, a picture of me and my friend Meg at IHOP. We went there all the time in the middle of the night, dressed like that, and would eat cheese sticks, drink hot cocoa, and talk. We each have a set of IHOP mugs to prove it.

Maybe later, if I get bored, I will scan some more pictures in...  ¶ 9:40 AM 2 comments

  "Men love to be heard. It's like sexually theyr'e trapped somewhere between ape and caveman." Calling all males that read this blog (except you, santa dad. Don't read this).

I, Ms. S'Ghetti, NEED A GODFORSAKEN EXPLINATION!

Not that this has anything to do with my life, but fuck. Explain this to me.

Why do the XY's enjoy the idea of people knowing about their sex life via being heard? Why?

I will be the first to admit that my brother and I have had a longterm game of 'interrupt siblings nookie session.' And that is totally understandable, because you get to embarrass the shit out of a sibling, cease the pattern that is taking place, and generally it is like a grown up game of Stratego. I get that.

What I don't get is males WANTING their....errr.... Exercise partners to be heard from the next city, or to be heard by their roommates, or to be heard in general.

I am not saying that fucking in silence is a good thing... But What I am saying is do you really want people to know what is happening?

I need thoughts.

I know who reads this blog daily. And Dammit. If I do not get a comment on your thoughts and opinions on this subject matter, I may very well go postal.

And you don't want to turn me loose with a gun, do you?

PS- thank you to she who gave me the quote for this title, She is a genius. Sheer genius.  ¶ 8:41 AM 3 comments

  A stroll down memory lane. I have been watching my own little personal marathon of Sex and The City.

And it pretty much struck me.

My life is like a really twisted episode of the sacred show.

I love that show so much, because there isn't an episode that I cannot relate to.

Slight differences in my life include:

- No Saturday eggs with the girls. It is Sunday brunch with the boys. (Pssst. Hi Detroit boys!!!!)

- Me and my two closest girlfriends do not relate to just one character, it is more like a mesh of all of them.

- I cannot yet afford an obscene amount of shoes from high end designers.

In the spirit of 'My life is Sex and The City' I shall now tell you my favorite former dating associate story.

I had just ended a seriously bad relationship thing and was in the 'Drink lots. Go out lots. Act like a general fool lots.' phase-- One of my favorite people to hang out with? Kake, a former associate himself. Kake and I would go hit the town, drink lots of shots, wash the shots down with beer, and have a generally drunken pleasant time. Kake had an extremely attractive, just been dumped by his fiancee, friend. He shall henceforth be referred to as blueeyes. A match made in the fiery pits of hell. We went out and got drunk a few times, I would always sleep my drunkenness off at his place. We then began going out and getting dinner, sometimes we would dance. It was all in all a splendid little set up. I mean, he was entertaining. He was good looking. He was well mannered. He also had enough pot in his house to get half of Cambodia high. But whatever, we all have our flaws.

Anyways, after a few outings, we went out and got drunk one more time. I awoke the next day to 'breakfast in bed.'

I had to get rid of him immediately.

I ran into blueeyes a few days ago. Akward. But I laughed on the inside through the enitire conversation.  ¶ 7:33 AM 1 comments