Thank You, Anonymous.

So Anonymous found my "goal" blog. July 7, 2005. I'm so mortified. I've done NONE Of these things. I've got to get my arse into gear. Big time.

title: At the Ripe, Old Age of 26... So these were my goals by the time I turned 26, not 27. Nice. I must've thought real highly of myself to think I could even accomplish half of these.
mood: blah My mood isn't as "blah" as it used to be, so I suppose that's good?
music: My Chemical Romance (do they have any other songs?!) They just released a new album, so at least that's changed in two years.
Realistic things that I hope happen within the next three years: Realistic?! I don't think I realized that I was about to turn 24 in a month (August 5), which sort of shaved a year off my timeline.
1. I plan to take more guitar lessons, followed by a miniscule amount of voice lessons. My guitar is STILL dusty. And my singing voice still sucks.
2. I will write and produce a rockin' song on Chloé and sing it in front of a small, intimate, not-too-mean audience. (The Butterfly Homicide LP is indeed a possibility.) See number 1.
3. I will start my novel titled Three Months (That's How Long Infatuation Lasts). It will be a fiction chick-lit book, loosely based on all of you. ;) I haven't written a book, but I've sought advice from numerous in the field on how to write a book proposal. I bought a 5-inch thick book full of book-publisher listings. I've decided to write my memoir first (on a certain topic...am not that egocentric) and then tackle a fiction novel. Have I started either? No.
4. I will become involved in a grown-up relationship. With a boy. But I suppose that won't happen until I get the guts to start calling "boys" "men." And I don't see that happening anytime soon. I now call "boys," "guys," but a grown-up relationship? No, although I'm being invited to more and more weddings.
5. I plan to write a lengthy piece for Glamour. On what, TBD. Freelance work? No. But I babysit more. :(
6. I will start my domestic-like recipe box. It's empty and is swiftly collecting dust. OK, this one I can cross off the list. I included more recipes in my recipe box, but I seemed to have lost them when I moved. But I have a Betty Crocker cookbook that I didn't have before.
7. You knew this was coming. But you know, I don't give two jars of peanut butter if I never lose 10 pounds. But I do plan to exercise REGULARLY and eat the sugar-free ice cream. I eat LESS ice cream, but not sugar-free. I have a gym membership. I go sometimes. Is once a week regularly? No..but I plan to go more, OK?!
8. I'd better pay off that Visa. Credit cards are so addictive. And to think, I only wanted the free pair of sunglasses. Oh fuck. I don't want to talk about this one. It's a bit of a...sore subject right now. Needless to say, I can't cross it off.
9. I will plan and take a vacation to a tropical-esque spot. Even if it's only Virginia Beach. Nada. My plane tickets all go to see family. But it's OK. They're worth it. :)
10. I will refrain from talking smack about my phenomenal poker skills and will learn how to bluff. I actually own a poker set. And I'm not half bad. Cross it off.

PS I'm so pissed that Lindsay Lohan named her new dumb dog Chloé. Fat bitch (not the dog). OK, well, I bought a kitten. And named her Chloé. And I'm less hostile towards ol' Linds.

So I was able to cross off numbers 4 and 10. I'm not quite happy with this outcome, but at least it's a tell-tale sign that time's not slowing down. That, and my forehead wrinkles.

What Do You Get When You Cross a Writer Who's Not Writing?

A sad girl named Tina. I spent the past hour searching through my old LiveJournal for this list I made a couple of years ago that stated everything I wanted to accomplish by the time I turn 27. I doubt I did any of it. Perhaps I just wanted to make myself feel sorry for...myself. After all, I spent the previous hour stalking nobodies on MySpace who seemingly have gone farther in life than I have. Then I had to remind myself that A) I moved to New York, and I'm (barely) making it, but I'm making it nonetheless, which is a good thing. B) I do work for a REAL magazine, albeit for 12-year-olds. C) Life isn't a competition. I'm just a competitive soul living in it.

So due to the urging of my dad, perhaps my only loyal reader, I'm starting this thing up again. I don't like the voyeuristic aspect of MySpace. This "blog" makes me feel a bit more "safe." Although I'm sure some fellow Mizzou comrade could use this against me if I made any enemies. Punishment for being honest. Oh well. That's the competitive nature of life.

PS Not that my life is interesting, but if you happen to come across my little "goals" list while perusing the archives, please let me know which entry that was. I'm curious.

Birthday Obnoxious

What can I say, I'm a Leo. I can be terribly shy and socially awkward, but I secretly looove to be the center of a attention. All week..."IT'S MY BIRTHDAY!" Hell, I even told the guy at the gas station yesterday, and he gave me a free Balance bar. During dinner and dancing, I would not take off my pink butterfly tiara. (Ooh, and at the club, there was an Abercrombie party...with lots of hot male models!)

And now I'm 25, which I actually LIKE. I cried when I turned 20, rejoiced at 21, got wasted at 22 and 23...and here I am. A woman who is just now beginning to grow up (only a little) and who feels immensely loved. To my pop and friends back home, here and all over the country: Thanks for being you. I no longer need to say, "Oh, it's just my dad back home." I have family all over the place. YOU! Lots of love.

Head Vomit

If my mind were my tummy after eating a giant jar of Nutella, I'd be puking right now.

• No one in Union City speaks English. And it pisses me off! "Has the 156 bus come by yet?" Blank stare. "One. Five. Six? Come by?" Blank stare. Points to bus sign. "Nevermind." Points to bus sign. Nods head. "I SAID nevermind!" If you don't speak English, please, don't even try to help me, OK? Because I just get pissed.

• Because my company houses several women's titles and weeklies, there's always bins full of self-help books in our "cafeteria." This week the special is books on Diabetes. But every so often, I approach my desk to find a book on dating. Coworkers leave them on my desk. I've acquired Dating For Dummies and Breakup Girl to the Rescue! to name a few. Since ex-roommate/coworker Courtney got a new job, I thought my "Singleton" stamp on my forehead would start to fade. Nope. Because today I found Dating: A Singles Guide to a Fun, Flirtatious and Possibly Meaningful Social Life sitting by my computer when I got in from lunch.

• I think I have stalker tendencies. Like, when I want to reach a particular friend, I repeatedly call and hang up until they answer. I hate to leave a message unless absolutely necessary. I just get this thought in my head, and I won't rest until I've let it out. Like when I was three hours late to work last week, I called my boss four times until I got her on the phone. Now I'm not only "Single Girl," but I'm "Psycho Single Girl" at work.

• The three-year-old twins I babysit for are soo funny. We played Tea Party on Saturday, and of course they wanted milk for their non-existent "tea." So I went upstairs and fetched a small dixie cup of milk. Then the girls got rowdy, started chucking miniature pink plastic plates everywhere. I ran upstairs to grab some towels and I came downstairs to find Olivia crying on the sofa with milk dripping down her face and hair. Alexa was sitting there, silent. I cleaned O up and said, "Alexa, what do you say to your sister?" "Sorry," she says. Good enough for me. Then later Dad comes home, Alexa runs to him and says "Tina bad!" The girls say that about me at least every other week. I always freak out that the parents are going to think I beat their baby girls or something. I offer to get the girls changed for bed, and Alexa yells, "Tina bad! Stay here and watch Dora. You can't come in our room!" So I watched Dora the Explorer by myself. While Dad did my job. And then when it's time for me to go, Alexa yells, "Bye!" and gives me the biggest kiss and hug ever.

Thursday Morning Commute

Thursday, July 20
I knew it was going to be an early morning because I was meeting my friend Amy at 7am for coffee. I usually wake up at 8am. I have a whole routine. Catch bus #1 at 8:27am, arrive in Union City at 8:58am, grab Dunkin coffee and muffin, catch bus #2 at 9:07am, arrive to work at 9:48am. Little did I know, this morning, my routine would be completely fucked.

6am Alarm goes off. Hit Snooze.
6:05am Amy calls to make sure I'm awake.
6:09am Alarm goes off. Hit Snooze.
6:18am Alarm goes off. Hit Snooze.
6:27am Alarm goes off. Realize it's 6:30am and rush to get ready.
6:45am Walk outside to meet Amy. Realize that mornings are really nice. It's quiet and there are birds that chirp. Secretly wish I was a morning person.
6:50am Meet Amy at Dunkin'.
8am After meeting with Amy, decide to catch an early bus, so as to please boss and get a head-start on morning. I'm a genius.
8:45am Still waiting for bus #1. WTF?!
9am Catch bus #1. Turns out the Lincoln Tunnel going into the city is backed up like a frat-house toilet. Leave message for boss apologizing profusely for the traffic.
9:10am Spot bus #2. Have driver let me off, race between cars to catch bus #2. Bang on door. He shakes his head. It's not an official bus stop, so he can't let me on. Luckily, I spot bus #1 still in traffic, so I race back and beg to be let back on the bus. He reluctanly opens the door, and yells at me for being so irresponsible.
9:45am Get off bus in Union City. Am too pissed to get another Dunkin' coffee. And I don't want to go to work with the shakes from too much joe.
9:55am Still waiting for bus #2. Leave boss another frantic message. Have no idea when I will get to work.
10:30am No sign of bus #2. Contemplate hitchiking. Hop on one of those crazy Mexican vans that charge $1 to go to the GW Bridge.
11am Call boss and say I'm on my way. She insists it's fine, just take my time and get to work safe. Pretty much tell boss that I love her. Worry about crossing the line with boss. Oops.
11:15am Hop in cab at GWB. Give cabbie my work address, knowing the ride will only amount to $5.25. Affordable.
11:20am Cabbie keeps making conversation. I'm pissed and don't want to talk. What was once a productive morning is now ruined. Spot a sign behind cabbie's driver's seat that says, "I have a small dick. I like it up the ass." I assume the cabbie didn't know it was there, so I take it off and hand it to him. Some assholes probably put it there. He seems embarrassed. Secretly beat myself up for not just throwing it away myself, so as not to hurt his feelings.
11:30am Arrive to work in one piece. Cabbie charges $5.25. Give cabbie a $20, ask for $13 back. He only has $10s and $20. WTF?! So I paid $10 for a cab ride. Secretly curse myself for not leaving the little penis note on back of driver's seat.

What a shitty commute.