Crush of the Month

Dear Mayor Mike,

I think I am in love with you, yes I am. I love your amazing drive and that passion for achieving that just oozes out of you. The fact that you overturned term limits and are going for a third term as my Mayor actually impresses me even more. I am sick to death of that winey assed Bill Thompson crying ad nauseum about what a terrible mayor you have been and how going for a third term is "betraying" the trust of the people of NYC. Betraying? If having a passion for your job to the point of wanting to continue it and make new goals for your vibrant city is betraying, then I don't wanna be right! If people really feel like this loser Thompson claims that they do then I guess we will see that on Tuesday, but I have every confidence in your re-election coming to fruition.

I love that you refuse to live in the Mayoral Gracie mansion. Money saved. Is your billionaire self out of touch with the common man a bit? Oh sure, probably. Do I really find this to be a major reason to get you out of office? Of course not. I like the fact that you take the subway 5 days a week and the fact that you once dated Diana Ross totally impresses me. I'm not a really political person but as someone who lives in your city I think things have been really good since you've been in office. Economic issues are worldwide not just here and I think you are the man to deal with this sort of thing anyway considering your prestigious background and how you made something huge out of nothing.

OK, physically, you do sort of look like an eagle but dammit, I just don't care. I want you and I want you badly Mike. I have had it with unmotivated, sensitive nice guys. For once, I'd like a man , an "alpha" man, who has goals and ambition and makes things happen. Please consider dumping your longtime "gal pal' for the likes of me. I would make you proud, I swear I would. I'm a compassionate person, I could easily come up with some new charities for you and popularize you with common folk who think you're just a snooty billionaire. Oh, and I'm hot as hell so bonus for you on this one. Having me on your arm at public functions would really give you some cred in the romance department.

At least just think about it, OK? I'll be there on Tuesday with bells on voting for your sweet ass. Here's to another 4 years of bliss.

Sexily yours, , Little Miss Fussbudget :)

Gone In 60 Seconds

NYC is a terrible, terrible place to own a car. It just is. It's like having a baby. Every morning, whether you are going anyplace or not you must get up. Unless you were lucky enough to find a parking spot on the correct side of the street the night before. This is due to an annoying little thing called "alternate side of the street parking". Every morning, you will see people half asleep and in their pajamas sitting in their cars waiting for the truck to come through so they can move their cars. At 8 am every morning the street sweeper trucks come through. They basically just stir up dirt in the name of "cleaning".This is why all cars must be on the same side of the street. The truck does a clean sweep of one side. If you were unlucky enough to oversleep and not move your car, you are towed, ticketed or both. There are "traffic enforcement agents" who will be at your car window with a ticket at 1 second after 8. I am not kidding. How do they do it? They are RELENTLESS. They used to be called "brownies" because they wore brown uniforms. This always reminded me of those little girl brownies, you know, the junior Girl Scouts? Well, they are far from innocent, they are downright nasty.

To be honest, they have the worst job on earth really. People in NYC are insane when it comes to parking. I have literally gotten out of the car and stood in a spot till my BF could drive around the block to get to it. I've nearly been killed by angry people looking for a spot like this but there are just times when you get so desperate you just can't drive around the block for another hour looking. It's that bad. We used to have to park 2 subway stops away and take the train here. If you get home after 6, you are pretty much screwed in finding a spot close by. Thank the lord for the invention of the Zip Car now.

I tell you all this to give you a flava of the dog eat dog nature of things here. I swear, I will die early from the stress of living here but I'd probably be bored anyplace else. Cue to my parking nightmare this week. Let me tell you that I have MAJOR driving in the city phobia here. I have driven for well over 20 years but I am terrified of driving in the city. I'll drive anywhere else but here. Actually, I failed the part on my drivers test back in eighteen dickity three where I was asked to parallel park. I simply cannot do it. I freeze up, I get really anxious and then I start to cry. I once drove around the block for an hour till my boyfriend came home from work and he could park the car. Yes, I am a parking loser. Where I was raised, you just drive right into a spot. No one ever parallel parks, it simply isn't done because there is no need to do it. When it comes to driving in NYC, I get all sorts of crazy scenarios that go through my head. I'm afraid that some nutbag (and there are plenty here) will shoot at me or get out of their car and beat me up if I even move the wrong way. This brings me to the situation I am going to tell you about.

There I was sitting in the car this week as my co-worker Miguel said "I'll be right back, I want to get a sandwich". He ran into the deli, I waited in the passenger seat. It was pouring rain. I was literally stuffing my piehole with a huge piece of cake that a patient of mine baked and gave to me. It was such a blissful moment that only a woman and her cake could understand. Then, all of a sudden this total BITCH traffic cop pulls up in her car and yells at me to move the car. I looked up and felt a sinking feeling. I saw Miguel only a few feet away waiting to pay for his sandwich. I tried to stall and that monster woman kept making hand gestures at me to move the car. She must have been low on her quota this week. There were no other cars around, we weren't blocking anything, she was just being a jerk. There was absolutely no parking anywhere. People, it was at that moment, with fear and dread in my heart, that I knew what I had to do.

Once again, I cannot express to you how completely terrified I am of driving here ,but my fear of her ticketing my beloved Miguel was greater, so I got my petrified self out of the car as quickly as I could move and I jumped behind the wheel of the car as she was pulling out her ticket book...and I took off. I can't say that I took off like a bat out of hell, it was more like a Fuss in a panic, this will be my new expression to indicate an intense reaction to something. I think this one may catch on with the kids and end up on UrbanDictionary.com . So, there I was, cake half in my mouth and half out, my feet didn't even reach the gas or brakes so I sat on the very edge of the seat and dangled my feet in hopes that they would make it. Poor Miguel helplessly witnessed this scenario with a look of utter horror on his face from inside the Deli, but there was nothing he could do. It must have been like Sophie's Choice for him. "Do I get my sandwich which I am really starving for, or do I risk getting a ticket and the Fuss having a heart attack at the wheel of my precious car?" The windows were fogging up due to the rain, oh and my cell phone rang and being a total dumbass I answered it. Not talking on a phone when driving is a law here . If I was stopped I would have been arrested /ticketed for like 4 things. So what did I do? I sped up to get rid of that dreadful traffic officer and I went around a truck and swung around the block twice to go back and pick up Miguel. He was hysterically laughing at my panicked state. He even high fived me when I jumped out and he jumped in behind the wheel. I was crying and saying OMGOMGOMG constantly and there was cake everywhere. Everywhere! It must have flown out of my mouth as I screamed in fear or something. The windows were almost completely fogged up and I had no idea where the defogger was and I was too hurried to look for it. People it was awful. true story.

The moral of the story? If you are in NYC or it's boroughs and you are driving a car you'd damned well better have a strong stomach and know how to parallel park. You'd also better have eyes everywhere and be able to read the signs that are on every corner stating when you can park there, when you can't and how much it's gonna cost you if you mess up. Oh and don't ever leave me innocently sitting in your car while you run into a deli for "just a minute". I don't think I have the constitution to deal with that dramarama and excitement ever again.

That's all for now :)

Thank you for bein' a friend.....

OMG, Heavens to Mergatroid! What on earth???? Since when did Barry Manilow begin to look like a cross between Estelle Getty of "Golden Girls" TV show fame and Ellen DeGeneres? I was shocked at his appearance as of late. I just don't know what the hell to say. WOW. WOOOOOOOW. This confirms my desire to never do anything to myself and to age naturally.

The Frillies Came, The Frillies Saw, and.....The Frillies CONQUORED!

Nice cover N.Y Post. In case you can't read the small print it refers to the Philadelphia Phillies as "The Frillies". Not that I ever expect journalistic integrity from the Post but as a Yankee hating person I take perverse joy in them being totally creamed last night in the first game of the world series. I'm not a baseball lover but years ago I had a totally madpassionatecrush on the almighty Mike Piazza when he was a Mets player. I even loved him when he dyed his hair blond and got engaged to a playboy playmate, that's devotion for you. I live in Queens, loved Mike, it was only natural that I would be affiliated with the Mets if I had to pick a baseball team to root for. Hell, I even own a bright orange really sexy Mr Mets T-Shirt that I wear to sleep some nights. If you ask me who is on the Mets right now, I couldn't tell you. I can tell you that I despise those bastard arrogant Yankees and I hope that lose, yes, I said it. LOSE. I concur with the man who works in the subway token booth at 157 st and Broadway. That is where this picture was taken today.

Manic Monday

Just a really quick hello to the faithful few who are reading! I hope your week is starting out well so far.

It is Monday and today's events included:

1.) My hair caught on fire in a patients kitchen. (thankfully I was tackled by her son and ended up on my back on her kitchen table with a table cloth over my head and no significant hair loss).

2.) I stepped in a huge pile of poop on the street as I attempted to run away from a very scary unleashed attack dog who barked viciously and seemed to have a hard on just for me.

3.)As I ran, I tripped, fell, ripped my pants and smashed my knee into a garbage can.

4.) I ran into a man I loathe on the subway who didn't seem to pick up on my "I loathe you" vibe and was chatty for 8 stops. I never spoke once. It went on forever. I read war and peace, I learned Japanese and still, he kept on and on and on.

5.) Came home and cried while eating 6 Famous Amos knock off Oreo cookies and reading an article in the enquirer on why Lindsay Lohan looks 15 years older than she is. (drug use, smoking, poor nutrition and unprotected sun exposure in case you were wondering as much as I was)

Oddly, this made me feel a lot better and a smidge superior and I am now browsing eBay looking at crap as a distraction till Dancing With The Stars comes on and Donnie Osmond re-ignites my foul mood as his dancing and permanent grin fule my hatred for him once again. Oh and P.S....I've been forcing myself to incorporate a bit more meat into my diet for iron purposes and you know something? I actually feel better after eating it. I really do. I'm not a huge meat eater and I have gone for long periods of time without it but lately I have been trying to eat it a few times a week and I have noticed that on the days I eat it , I feel a lot better. Go figure!

Stay strong my friends, 4 more days!!

That's all for now :)

Crazy Cat Lady

Can I just tell you that I had the funniest dream I've had in years today? I literally woke up laughing out loud, and as I recalled it I continued to laugh to the point of tears streaming down my face.

Briefly summing it up, I was standing in my living room with my ex boyfriend and he told me he was going to cheat on me. I became very, very upset and started to cry. I begged him not to. Then, all of a sudden I turned around and looked back and he was gone and there was a cat looking up at me. I somehow knew that the cat was him. I said "honey? Is that you"? And the cat shook his head yes!! LOLOL!! I said "Oh no! What have you done? Stop it! Come back! How can we get you back? And he shrugged his shoulders! A cat, shrugging his shoulders just like a person! To make matters even more hilarious I seriously said to him "can you communicate with me via text?" At that point, he pushed his cellphone open with his little cat nose and began to swat his big ole' paws at it and he tried to type! He failed miserably at it as he looked at me with this defeated look he began to helplessly whimper. I became very annoyed with him and scolded him for becoming a cat (doesn't this all make perfect sense to you?) and he got upset and ran off to a park across the street to which I responded by yelling out to him "you'll be back!" The dream ended with me sitting on my couch with Oprah and her saying to me "well, that's what he gets for even thinking about cheating on you girl, don't feel bad about it, he created this mess". Then.....I woke up!

People, I am still cracking up just remembering this. He looked so helpless swatting at that phone trying to "talk" to me. I actually told him about it today and he quipped "wow, I suddenly have an overwhelming craving for a tuna fish sandwich."

*Note to self* stop taking so many naps in the middle of the day after eating spicy snacks*

That's all for now :)

I Am Iron Woman

OK, so I did it, I went for the IV iron treatment I told you I was going for. This post is going to be a bit bo-ring and self indulgent....hmmmm. Now that I think of it, not that different from my usual posts so WTF am I apologizing for? If you're here on a regular, you are a glutton for punishment and I probably shouldn't feel guilty at all for being boring. I realize that I am telling you stuff that only a mother would care about so you are excused from reading this entry. I just feel like documenting this ordeal, k?

First of all , thank god it was Friday and I had someone with me. I went first thing in the morning and I am NOT a morning person at all. People, I dragged my tired ass to that office thinking it would probably be uneventful. I noticed that the Dr had some award as most respected by his peers in a New York Times article/survey. He was a helluva lot nicer and more personable today too so I'm guessing I got him on a bad day the last time and he's not the schlub that I initially thought he was. So, he brought me into the treatment room and pulled out the iron vials. He had to use two. My veins are notoriously difficult to find so he decided to use *drum roll*.............THE BACK OF MY HAND. Have you ever had a needle in the back of your hand? It hurts like a mofo. He made the decision to not do it by IV bag and to just inject it. BAD CHOICE. He took some of my blood and mixed it with the iron and re injected it. I know, ewwwwww! As I sat there and it started going in my hand itched like there were tiny teeth biting inside my veins. Then, my hand and arm started to cramp horribly. I mean so horribly to the point where I began to cry and believe me when I tell you when it comes to pain and pain tolerance, I am a Marine. Remember that scene in 40 y/o virgin where Steve Carell is getting his chest waxed and he screams out from the pain 'MMMM-AAAAHH! KELLY CLARKSON!" Yep, that is exactly what I felt like doing. I had kidney stones and took no drugs and stood it and this pain was more annoying than that. If it was the 1800's, I would be the type to get through a major surgery with nothing but a brandy soaked dirty rag crammed into my mouth and a metal pipe to grasp onto. I'm that good with pain, but this shit HURT. Next week, we are doing this by I.V bag. No more going into tiny veins in my hand.

Anyway, the Dr commented that he has never had anyone have these side effects before. Gee, thanks for making me feel like you believe me dude. Oh, except for an "elderly" gentleman who felt some itching but nothing else. So I said to him, "well, it appears that you have finally met the fabled princess who actually feels the pea under her mattress now, doesn't it?" With that, I went to a room to lay down and wait a bit to see if there were any more goodies in store for me. Unfortunately, the "Wendy Williams Show" was on the TV and this made things even worse. I hate that woman. She is a horrible, shrieking, overly dramatic tranny-esque woman. I cannot believe she has her own show. Her audience needs to be bitch slapped for being so "woot woot' enthusiastic too. The staff must ply them with sugar before filming starts because they are far too hyper for what is actually going on. My companion was supportive and held my hand and thankfully talked over Wendy and her "how to look like Michelle Obama" fashion show. The only thing that would have made this worse was Donny Osmond popping up as a guest so at least I'm grateful to him for staying away and giving me some peace. This experience served as a gentle reminder that I despise day time television and the whole "being up early" experience and always will.

I laid there and just as I thought it was all going away I began to feel pins and needles and a horrible prickling, stabby sensation in my feet. Then, it ran up my calves. That lasted for another hour. I came home and took a very long nap and woke up with my "middle" aching and hurting. And I had a headache. Good times. I made myself get up and eat since I hadn't had food since the day before and it was now about 3 pm. Yay for Fairway's broccoli rabe, sausage and peppers and garlic bread. I now feel almost human again.

Oh, and I was told that I need to get a medic alert bracelet because the blood test from the last visit showed that I have a rare genetic coagulation disorder and if I ever needed surgery I would probably need a transfusion if I didn't get a special injection to promote clotting prior to surgery. What a damned day!

The perfect ending to this perfect day involved going across the street and buying a cupcake at the Italian place that sells these HUGE gloriously beautiful cupcakes. I deserved it dammit. It was a cupcake day if ever there was one. That and a steamy cup of their maple milk. We will be back to our regularly scheduled programming in the next day or two and I will not be dedicating posts to my health woes unless something really big happens. I know you must be like WTF? What will she be telling us next? The size and shape of her poop? To that question Dear Reader I say, no, I will leave that to the poop obsessed Dr Oz. That seems to be his forte.

That's all for now! :)