Weekend Warrior: "Where's my girl?" - My favorite Uncle Fred

It's absolutely rigoddamndiculous how much can happen in one weekend.

"If life's so hard already, why do we bring so much trouble on ourselves? What's up with the need to hit the self-destruct button? Maybe we like the pain. Maybe we're wired that way because without it...I don't know. Maybe we just wouldn't feel real. What's that saying...why do I keep hitting myself with a hammer? Because it feels so good when I stop." - Meredith Grey

Uncle Fred walked into my house asking, "where's my girl?" and then he sees me and says, "there she is!" The Florio's are back in town! Friday night the Florio and Nigara clan went to dinner at Sofia's in Springfield, NJ with Tommy and Daniella. The food was spectacular, the vino was flowing, and my Aunt Michelle was signing Journey songs. Can you say  N-e-w  J-e-r-s-e-y? Lauren showed up awhile later to pick me up, in an outfit that probably gave Vinny-bag-o-donuts, Johnny Pizza, Mickey Marbles, and Nooch a near heart attack. These are not really their names but the round table of Italian men next to us hollering "eehhhh oohhhh" was what makes shows like Mob Wives possible. My uncle Fred didn't have his Frank Sinatra hat on but it didn't matter by the time my mother was pronouncing the word "spend' as "spRend"....it was one of those nights.

So Lauren grabbed my drunk ass and "Christie had left the building" (which I'm told the singer announced over the microphone). So now on to Sona. Never mind the incredibly long line to get in because my best friend is gorgeous and the bouncer who has had a thing for her since day one came outside and let us in. We got drinks from Rocky and headed downstairs to find Gabbie-dabbie-do. Down the front staircase and around the corner we went, into the downstairs bar and there he was, my old friend who I'll be calling "Roller Coaster" (so yeah you can only imagine the type of relationship I've had with this friend).

[A brief history: we've known each other forever, we started as friends but then lines were crossed and of course every thing changed, we were "boyfriend and girlfriend" for a whole 12 hours, then he bailed, we start talking again so I put myself out there and he declined, then I got hurt, then we started talking again, then he got a girlfriend so we stopped, then we started again and all signs pointed to this is going somewhere, then he didn't show up when he should have, then I got really mad, and now he wants to patch it up again. Sounds really fun and healthy, right?]

I say hello to Gab and then I turn to him, give him the usual head tilt to the side, half smile, and eye roll before I hug him and say hi. Leading into this weekend the roller coaster of my relationship with Roller Coaster was at a low point, obviously. As the night went on, his usual drunken babble started in my ear, "Christie, I love to see you smile. Your happiness is all that matters to me. Can we please be friends again?" Yada yada yada. "You know I'll always care about you. You know I'm always there for you. I want us to be in a good place again, don't you?" Yada yada yada.

- Forgetting Sarah Marshall

Alright fine, Sarah Marshall, take it down a notch. It's not all bullshit but the drunk crap is exhausting. It's been our routine for years - every thing is great, he (or I'll admit that sometimes I) screw up, I cut him out of my life, and then we run into each other in an environment like this, and he feeds me exaggerated lines about his feelings for me. It's like when people say "the last thing I want to do is hurt you" but doesn't that mean it's still on the list? Give me the hammer, I'll just start hitting myself now.

Despite all of that drama the rest of the night was so much fun with Lauren. The next morning during our re-cap in bed she shared with me a story about a guy who asked her to get out of the Cluck-U line to come eat with him and his friends. She replied, "Nahh nahh" in this voice that makes me cry tears of laughter every time I hear it. She tells me this entire story only to finish up by saying, "Ya know, I don't actually think any of this happened but I do remember standing outside staring at him and pouting with my arms crossed." Typical Lauren.

Saturday I'm texting with Roller Coaster aka hitting myself with the g.d. hammer. He wants to take me out to lunch so we can talk and have a big pow wow about our status for the billionth time. I was making no effort this time - if he had something so important to say then he could come over and say it. I half expected him not to show up because that's just something he would do but to my surprise he showed.

In our little chat he told me he wants to "get off my shit list" but I just didn't get why. "You don't care enough to stay off the list so why do you care so much about getting off of it once you're on it?" He laughed and told me I made a good point but I really wanted an answer. At this point I was feeling like it would be easier to keep him on the shit list, in an attempt to stop hitting myself with a hammer, because as soon as I take him off he does something to get his ass back on there! I have to say though that it was one of the most honest conversations we've ever had and I'd argue it was the best "Roller Coaster and Christie pow wow" to date. He explained why he cared and I genuinely believed him. But of course I did.

So the conversation ended on a good note and now it was time to focus on Saturday night. Remember Butthead Friend? Well even he was scheduled to make an appearance but the jury was still out on whether he would actually show up or not. Hillary, Gab, and I got into Lauren's car and headed to where else? Sona. English, yes that's his name, let us in the back door and we were off! Sammy girl and Tara found us but I don't think ever actually uttered "hello." Instead they just screamed in drunken excitement for a good thirty seconds and that's why we love them. And then like a shadowy spirit from the past, Butthead Friend actually appeared. I patted him on the chest and shoulders to make sure it was really him, alive and in the flesh. I got him a beer and made slightly awkward conversation but was so happy to see him there I couldn't even stand it. It didn't last long though because about twenty minutes after his arrival he bolts. Text message: "I'm sorry. I'll explain everything. I miss our friendship but I'm sorry I had to go." Great. Awesome. Love you too.

The next morning he explains a little bit more about what happened and how he can't seem to have both his friends and a girlfriend at the same time. I told him, "Yes, actually you can, you just seem to be choosing not to." Why do I feel like this is a one-sided fight for this relationship? Why am I continuing to hit myself with a hammer? It'll feel so good when I stop but I just can't. Ugh, whatever.

So by now Roller Coaster knows that I always have 2 more cents to throw in after I have a night to sleep on the content of our pow wow (except by now I think he also knows that 2 cents usually means more like 8, 10, sometimes even 25 cents). Oh well. I saw him on Sunday night and it went totally fine but not quite like I planned. Ya know when you practice a speech in your head so many times you could say it backwards but then when it comes time to give it every thing gets jumbled and mixed up? And then you walk away remembering all of the great points you were practicing all damn day that you failed to mention? Yeah so I got that going for me.

I got nervous, which surprised me, because I don't usually get nervous with him. I guess I'm used to being so pissed off that it masks the nerves but anyway he was already in bed and it was dark. I was talking down to him which was weird but there was no way in hell I was going to sit down on the bed. I wanted to address the fact that we are "going to be friends" but before he left my house on Saturday he was looking at me like he was looking at me (ya know ya know?) and I swear he had to stop himself from kissing me goodbye. What I wanted to say was, "If you were looking at me like that in a purely physical and meaningless way just because you're attracted to me then STOP it because that's not how a friend looks at another friend. But if you were looking at me like that with some meaning behind it because after allllll of this you do like me....then either pretend like you don't and STOP looking at me like that......or, forget about every thing practical, every external pressure/factor/whatever that has held you back all these years and do something about it." Sounds good right? Except it came out as more "STOP looking at me like you wanna take my clothes off because when you look at me like that, I look at you like this, signals get mixed up, I get crazy, you get weird, and then I hate you again." I walked out saying, "So just stop looking at me like that.....and don't check me out as I walk away." I strutted a little and shook my booty as a joke, said goodnight, and closed his door.

So does anyone have a self-destruct button I can push? I walked away from Saturday's conversation feeling so unaffected, so immune, and when he told me he had to use a significant amount of self-control around me I was relieved that for once I felt fine. I didn't even need self-control because the urge wasn't there. But ya see, this is the thing about Roller Coaster, I keep accepting the apologies. I always go back on Sunday with something else to say. I get more hurt and more furious with him than I do with anyone else...I know, I wonder what that means too, and then just like that I'm completely comfortable, laughing, and joking around about booty shaking. I remember watching Sex and the City with my mom in high school and asking her about Carrie and Mr. Big. At the time I had a boyfriend who liked to break up with me once a month and then we'd get back together over and over, which is similar to what happens with Roller Coaster. I wondered if in real life it was possible to eventually be with someone and love someone who does jerky things to you all the time, like Mr. Big did to Carrie throughout the entire show. I just don't know but in the meantime, me and my hammer are just hitting away.

Remember the Newseum man boy and Coach Exxon? I heard from both of them this weekend after weeks of silence. What the hell is up with these guys? GROW UP, all of you, GROW UP. I surprised Newseum man boy when he asked "What's up?" at 3am....wonder what he wanted....by answering with, "So how does your girlfriend feel about you texting me at 3am?" He didn't know that I knew about her, let alone that I know her g.d. name, but DC is a small town, buddy. This poor girl thinks she's in a committed and loving relationship with this asshole...if you're reading this, Newseum man boy, don't ever contact me again. Disgust. As for Coach Exxon...really? really?! "I have no good excuse, I was an asshole for not calling you after our date and that's all I got." Well that's not enough. Buh bye.

Why do I keep hitting myself with a hammer? Why do I keep wasting my time and shedding tears over my Butthead Friend who has done absolutely nothing to stand up for me? Why do I continue to text, call, reach out to you when you ditch after 20 minutes? You tell me, is it time to just put the hammer down?

Why is it that even though I almost expect him to let me down every chance he gets that if Roller Coaster called me up and said, "it took me a long time to get here but...", damnit I hate it, but I would talk about taking things up a notch. Pick a tool box, Roller Coaster, and stick to it. There's the Friendly Tool Box: talk every once in awhile, happy to see each other at events, bars, etc, but absolutely no looking at me, no talking about looking at me, and never ever acting upon looking at me. Or there's the Crap I've Been A Silly Fool All These Years and I'm Finally Ready to Make a Grown-Up Move Tool Box (think that will fit on the side of the box? lol): in that box is a few dates and a let's see how this goes. For years I've been up for either and I've tried to act accordingly but we get in trouble because he's always been a mish-mosh of both boxes, doing one thing but saying another or saying one thing and acting another. I mean we ended our pow wow with, "ok so we're good, the hating you phase is over" but then he looooooks at me like he always looks at me and we both say, "yeah ok it's not over but it's over for now"....throw me a bone here, pick a g.d. box, and stick with it for a little while.

And finally why is it that I keep having hope for people like Newseum man boy and Coach Exxon but then I come to find out that I'm only the drunk dial? I'm not always Sassarella about this stuff. Getting those texts from them and everything that happened with Butthead Friend made me feel like crap. Believe it or not Sassarella lets the 'tude down every now and then.

They say the best things come to those who wait and in my opinion, I've waited long enough. He (whoever he may be) needs to grab a friggen hammer of his own, use it to forcefully break down the wall in front of him screaming, "where's my girl?" and when he breaks through and sees me standing on the other side, he'll sigh a good sigh and say, "there she is." Cause that...that will feel so good.

 And I'll finally be able to stop hitting myself with a hammer.

Runnin' Around: "GTI: Gym, Tan, I'm Not Buying It" - Pauly D

[Before I dive into this post, I'd just like to say for the record that I'm NOT crazy because they are all HAUNTING ME this week. I was walking around in Georgetown the day after the post hook-up encounter shpiel and bumped into #4! UCK!!!!!]

So now on to today's issue. Last week I got on the scale and was NOT a fan of the number I saw staring back at me. Anytime I bring this up most people respond with, "You're nuts! You look fine!" but it's that layer of winter, holiday season schmutz that I have yet to get rid of that's driving me crazy! It's those pounds that an outsider probably doesn't notice but you notice every time you try to get dressed...piece of crap little pounds, I could KILL YOU! I digress.

Last week I finally decided to seriously do something about it because for the last month or so I've been "getting serious" but it was a fake serious (you know what I'm talking about, I'm sure). So to define "seriously getting serious" I worked out six out of seven days this week, consciously took notice and wrote down everything that I ate, and even got back into the habit of drinking industrial size bottled water all week.

Ain't it the truth?

As the days went by I started noticing a difference in my face and booty. When gauging my weight loss or gain, there are certain spots on my body that I notice fluctuate first. In the shower, the one place I notice is the spot on the back of my arm right above my elbow. (Am I sounding crazy yet? Meghan likes to jokingly ask me from time to time if I notice any change in my ear lobe?! She's funny). Anyway so I'm in the shower this week: "Ohhh yeah I'm coming back! The arms are skinnier, feeling good, yada yada". WOOT!

Then I was putting make-up on and noticed less of that "side face" BS that happens. My sister and I have expressed a severe dislike for this fun side effect of Christmas lasagna and post-Sona Cluck-U chicken. We get this little crease on the side of our cheeks when we smile. Uck, gross. This week I saw that all going away. YAY!

And finally I put "the uniform" on to take a walk before LuAnn arrived to take me home to Jersey. "The uniform" is leggings and a t-shirt and by golly oh my the butt is definitely smaller! I was walking around and check this out, when I was walking, I could actually feel less ass pop out. WOO HOO!

So I'm feeling like a new woman. I'm super excited that I'm going into Easter weekend in a good groove. My butt, the spot above my elbow, and the side cheek are all fading fast...even my g.d. ear lobe felt smaller! On my way to the scale, which I only get on once a week like all the books and diets say, I was anxious to see just how many pounds I had lost. I step up and saw that I lost a whole 0.2 pounds! COME AGAIN?! No way. Come on. I step off and step back on hoping some mechanical error occurred on the scale... -0.2. I could feel my blood boiling, the frustration building, and on top of it all my allergies kicked in from the skinny girl walk I had just taken outside. There's no way, there's just no way that I didn't even lose a pound! I mean 0.2 is the difference that a good pee could make! I didn't even have Tuscany pizza on the corner with George at 3am all weekend...this is NOT POSSIBLE! For the first time in my entire life, and I kid you not, I have "seriously gotten serious" and not lost somewhere between 3 and 5 pounds in one week. Gaaarrrreeeeaaaaaat.

I walked away from the scale and for the rest of the day, my face felt gross, my butt felt HUGE, and the spot on the back of my arms was back! In a split second I went from skinny girl heaven to chubby kid hell. I was telling my mom about the ordeal and as she's cracking up she says, "Ok, you really are crazy! That's all in your head!" Since I've never been naturally thin and have always had to consciously be aware of my eating and running habits to stay in shape, I know how this goes. There are some weeks that it just doesn't happen for ya. My body is retaining a lot of water right now and my buhbies are on the bigger side...awesome, my arms are skinnier but my buhbies are watermelons. Fantastic (can you hear the sarcasm?)

The moral of the story is that I'm not buying it. I really and truly see and feel differences in my body. I'm more toned from running all week and there's definitely less ass to grab on! Good grief. I'm home in Jersey for the next few days and here's my plan...GTI: Gym, Tan, I'm Not Buying It because I know the scale is effed up and I'm not going to let it bring me down. I'm going to GTD: Gym, Tan, Drink all weekend with my best girly girls and impatiently wait for Wednesday to come so I can get back on the scale to see that horrible number go down. I'm also going to secretly wish I was a boy so I could eat whatever I want, but cut out soda, and lose ten pounds in an hour. Whatever, I'm not bitter or anything....

I know there's gotta be a least one of you feeling my pain and are currently trying to drop some. If that's the case then all I have to say is....godspeed, my friend, godspeed!

Currently on the "seriously get serious" playlist:

"TNT - Invasion Over Berlin" - by The Fabulous Beatmashers (AC/DC vs.
Spencer & Hill vs. Three 6 Mafia vs. Black Eyed Peas
vs. Run DMC vs. Ying Yang Twins)

So About Those Post Hook-Up Encounters: YIKES-A-BUNGA

I'm feeling Michael's pain because as soon as I decide to get outta the game, the players are stalking me. Typical. Hot men are following me wherever I go; they are in the hallways, on the streets, at work, and even in my dreams. I can't even get peace in my g.d. sleep! More specifically, previous hook-ups are haunting me. Post hook-up encounters...yikes-a-bunga! One instance was less than an encounter and more of a "pretend we don't see each other" kind of thing. Story time: I was walking down the big hill to the cafeteria and he was walking up the hill. The street is pretty wide so we were a good distance apart but we both kinda looked down or around at other things as we passed each other. My curiosity got the best of me and I wanted to turn around and look just to make sure that it was him. I thought I had waited an appropriate amount of time before glancing back (figuring that if he wanted to glance back too that he would've done it already) as you can probably guess...I was wrong. BAM! We looked at the SAME time and then both quickly turned back around. So yeah that was awkward. This post hook-up encounter happened way too close to the original hook-up date - it is still an open wound and I threw salt right on it!

The other, and most recent encounter, happened last night in the library. I've seen him a few times in the last couple of weeks but never in close enough proximity to tell if he saw me too or close enough to talk but not last night. I was looking at him as he turned the corner, hoping to finally catch his eye and at least smile or wave, do something! I don't want to ignore him I mean we exchanged saliva, people, come on! He looked at me so naturally I looked down, then felt super stoooopid for looking down, so I looked back up, he did a double take, and said, "Uhhh...OH! HEY!" I politely said hello and expected that to be the extent of it. Next thing I know he's walking towards me and pops a squat at my table. What could he possibly have to say to me?! Anyway we chatted for a few minutes and the conversation was surprisingly pleasant and lacked the usual awkwardness.

Why? Partly because the hook-up happened long enough ago that the pressure was gone and partly because he's just that kinda guy. He is a graduate student, a much older graduate student who has a boat load of life experiences that make him seem even older than he is...just take my word for it. Still, none of that changed the fact that I wish I looked a little bit hotter. I also wished that he looked a little less buff and sounded a little less smart (the smart thing is a mega turn on).

Are there unwritten rules about how the post hook-up encounter should go? Is there a certain acceptable script to follow? I think that all depends on who it is, how far ya went (oopsie), how many times you've bumped uglies, and how long ago the hook-up actually went down. For the sake of my family and friends who are undoubtedly judging me right now and for anyone born before the late 1980s or the early 90's, to "hook-up" does not always mean sex. I'm just sayin'.

In general I'd say that my library meet up was a good model for success: Keep the conversation light ("How are you?", "What are you studying?", "What are your plans for the summer") - don't bring up the wild time you had especially if there's a chance either of you are fuzzy on the details, don't over-stay your welcome and lingering is a major no-no! (keep it quick, 5 minutes or so, tops!), and stay breezy ("Hi, it's Monica. I'm just checking in because I got this message from you and I didn't know if it was old or new or what. So, I'm just checkin'. So let me know, or don't, whatever. I'm breezy!") - saying you're breezy negates the breezy! Seriously though, for guys and dolls, you want the other person to walk away still with the image of you as the cool, fun chick (or dude) he met at the bar a few weeks, months, days, hours ago....so just be nice damnit ("Good luck with your paper, it was good to see you" likewise, library man, likewise)

So while I have you here, another thing that's been on my mind recently is why do we refer to the act of making a pass at someone as "to hit on a person"? I would hope that a guy would never actually hit me, right? So que paso? Getting hit on is a funny thing because it only comes across as a positive, non-creepy thing if the person doing the hitting on is successful. Think about it - if two guys hit on you using the same line, and you're attracted to one but not the other, the one guy gets labeled as "the creeper who just hit on me won't stop staring" and the other gets labeled as "the hottie who just bought me this drink". Just food for thought.

This one time at band camp on New Year's Eve Lauren and I bought two shots of vodka. They were HUGE shots and it seems silly now to think that we couldn't finish them because we're like totally seniors now but we couldn't finish them. We had already had our eyes on two guys who were now standing just a few feet away from us - LIGHT BULB - give the rest of the shots to the guys as if we bought the shots for them! They didn't know the difference and we both ended up going on several dates with each of them. Imagine the absolute disaster if their interest wasn't mutual: "These two creepy girls bought us half shots and giggled the whole time". YIKES-A-BUNGA.

Thirsty Thursday: "Aftuuhh 500 years we're still fweends!"

Don't feel badly if you don't understand the title.

You shouldn't unless you're one of the Fab 5.

Last night at 10pm I was casually lounging in my bed (the tree house) watching Grey's Anatomy. I had given up on the notion that I would get work done but I was absolutely certain that I wasn't going out. I was successfully ignoring the warm weather, the dance music blasting outside, and Allie dancing around singing "Who Dat Girl" and "P.Y.T." (the Glee version, good god). Next thing I know a certain loud-mouthed Ecuadorian Italian brunette comes bounding into my house and declares that she will be getting in bed with me, "Move over, I'm coming up" (if you don't know, my bed is called the tree house because it is lofted up and over my entire room). Jackie, the loud-mouthed Ecuadorian Italian brunette, and I consulted Allie on her outfit, played some game on her iPhone with pigs and birds or something (who knows), but mainly just giggled for a half an hour. "You are easily one of the most, if not the most, entertaining person I've ever met in my life," I told her. Jackie doesn't even have to try to make me laugh, it just happens naturally. Of course she is hilarious but she's entertaining in the way that she doesn't even have to try. Simply the way she talks and functions as a human being is hilarious and I adore it.

Eventually Jackshmack and Allie go downstairs and I can hear them having a dance party in my kitchen. I'm still resisting until I hear Meghan come home. Well now I gotta go downstairs and at least see what's happening, right? Bad idea. The moral of the story is that Meghan, who was also not going out, and I get peer pressured into changing our clothes and going out. By 10:45 I'm dressed and ready with a glass of wine. Allie put *Nsync's "It's Tearin' Up My Heart" on the iPod and we were off, "It's a wonder we're all single...." (Jackie sarcastically pointed out as we bopped around the kitchen doing dance moves such as "the Q-Tip"). It reminded me a lot of being in high school....but with booze and better shoes. We made a good group and it felt fun and loose, oMigOsh jUSt hAvinN' fUn wiTh mY gUrLs. I asked them as we walked four across and occasionally arm-in-arm down to the bar if we were Sex & the City who would each of us be. I immediately wanted to be Carrie but realized that in this group, Jackie is Carrie. Allie is definitely Charlotte, Meghan (the level-headed one of the bunch) is Miranda and well, that leaves me as Samantha.....hmmm....I'll just leave it at that.

Throw back :-)

I ended up being very happy that I went out. The weather was fantastic and I didn't even need to drink all that much because we were holding down the dance floor. These three girls are three of the best friends that I have in this city so the combination of us all together was fun with or without the alcohol. No hang over for me today :-)

So in the spirit of feeling like a kid, yesterday I heard a little boy outside the elementary school across the street from my house say to his friend (in all seriousness), "Uh huh, I wanna be Super Man." It was preshhhious. I started to wonder what super power I would want to have if I could choose anything. I initially narrowed it down to flying, mind reading, and invisibility. Of course there are times when I'd love to know what is on someone's mind, hell I wish we could Google what someone is thinking, I mean we can Google everything else! I also thought about the amount of times I think to myself, "Wow, I'd love to be a fly on the wall for that conversation" hence the invisibility thing. However, after much thought and consideration I have concluded that I completely agree with the little chubby cheeks kid, I would want the ability to fly. Reading minds and being invisible would be helpful in a lot of situations but that's messing around with fate. I know better than to toy with the f-word.

I have a feeling that I would get greedy and want to know too much. Although I'm also pretty certain that I really wouldn't want to be privy to the dark and twisted thoughts, I have enough of those on my own thank you! And finally, then there would be 0.0 fun in getting to know someone.

Now flying, on the other hand, would be AWESOME. Of course since this is my super power, I would make it that flying burns 10 times as many calories as working out. That way I could fly around all the time and be skinny and in shape for my entire life. Naturally. Think of the possibilities though - I'd rarely ever be late because it's not like I can get stuck in traffic, I could see the world at little cost because it's not like I'd have to buy plane tickets, and I'd get the top down, wind in my face, hair flowing in the breeze feeling ALL THE TIME. Yup, it's decided, my super power would be to fly.

"Louder Than Words" by David Guetta ft. Afrojack

So fly away into the weekend my chick-a-dees! Catch ya on the flip side.

 I'm sorry but I just couldn't resist one more....

Dream Diary: Babies, Hit Men, Hair Cuts! Oh my!

This entire week I've really struggled to come up with a decent post. I hate forcing a post because they never turn out as effective or entertaining as I'd like them to be and just sound blah, ya know? I forced myself to be patient because all it takes is one moment to stir up an entire dialogue in my head to create a post. My brain is like a spunge and while I enjoy writing this blog it consumes my thoughts all the time. Everything I hear, I read, or I watch I try to incorporate into a post and have notebooks and phone memos all over the place to document quotes I like, songs I hear, or clips to go back and watch because it just might be perfect for an upcoming post! Good grief! The pieces finally came together this morning. I woke up having had the same dream two nights in a row and judging by the content of the dream, my interpretation of it seems to sum up my life quite well.

So my dream begins with little Asian babies running around my house in New Jersey. I'm chasing them around and finally catch one. I'm not sure what happens to the others after I catch him but this little Asian baby has long black hair that I cut into a mohawk. I also give him a toothbrush and clean clothes.

My Asian baby didn't look like the Ally McBeal Ugachaka baby

but I can't help but picture it dancing around my house every time I edit this post

Suddenly I'm standing in the doorway to my garage and I see two thirty something Asian men in dirty clothes with long black hair. In conversation with my mother, we realize that our house is now known as the house that cuts the long hair; which is apparently a necessary ritual for Asian men. My mom and I fear these men and before I can fully close the garage door, they slip under the garage door and run into my house. I chase them upstairs but need help.

[Enter two hot, strong, hit men looking guys]

One hit man immediately takes down the first Asian man and I have to ask the other one to take care of the other intruder. After they are removed from my house, the two hot hit men hang out for a bit while my mom and I put the original Asian baby to sleep.

Ooookaaaaay so if it wasn't known already, I'm a lunatic. Asian babies, hot hit men, hair cuts? Wtf.

Interpretation: Well last week before I turned in half of my thesis I was having dreams that I was being chased aka I was having anxiety over my workload. Now this week, I am the one doing the chasing. As I see it, and as unofficial dream interpreting websites see it, when you are the person doing the chasing it can be an indication of chasing dreams, ambitions, and wanting more from life. Obviously this is an expression of my readiness to graduate and move on from college. The hair cut thing could be interpreted in a simple way or in a deeper way. Simply put, I'm in desperate need of a hair cut. These locks are weighing me down. On a deeper note, cleaning up the Asian baby and cutting his hair could be a symbol of re-birth and starting fresh. I'm finally back on a healthier eating, exercising, and sleeping schedule this week...starting fresh. I'm also going to start a whole new life this summer...re-birth. The two Asian men desperately want their hair cut and to be given fresh clothes and risk their lives in the process. Maybe the hit men stopping them from getting what they want is my fear that I won't get what I want.

Speaking of the hit men, those hot and steamy hit men.

Oh the directions I could take this. Well, to start I could interpret them as part of my man struggle. Hit men in movies, while they do often kill, they are stereotypically loyal and strong protectors of whoever they are working for......and of course, they're always hot. I want one! One that is all kinds of loyal and passionate, ya know, that fight to the death kinda person. Then there is the thought that maybe because they put an end to the hopes and dreams of the Asian men (and sometimes in movies, they turn out to be traitors) that they are actually....hmm no, I'm going to stop there and leave it as they are hot and hunky hit men who are on my side.

And what the feck is up with these Asian babies? The other interpretation of being the person doing the chasing is that I've fallen behind and need to catch up. Honestly this is so silly but it's the only thing I can think of to explain the Asians: I'm supposed to be reading Battle Royale for my pulp fiction English class and I'm VERY behind on the readings. If you don't know, Battle Royale is a gory novel by Koushun Takami (and a movie) about a group of Japanese teenagers who are captured by the government and forced to kill each other. So yeah, there's that...I'm really hoping that is the reason for the Asian thing.

This dream might lead one to believe that I have something against Georgetown but despite the stress of school work, the construction that wakes me up every g.d. morning, and the overwhelming feeling that I'm so ready to be done, I can't help but love this place. It's that time of year on campus when I start to fall in love. The warm weather, the crowds of people on the front lawn, and the tour groups of prospective students gives me that warm and fuzzy feeling.

I had to drop off some documents this morning and got a little lost in the medical school. The inside of the med school building looks like a high school with dull blue metal lockers and dark blue and grey bulldogs painted on the walls and as I walked through the halls I questioned why anyone would want to come to a med school that looked like a dingy high school. [Side note: this is an assumption based on ONE building]. But then it hit me why: We are Georgetown. Plain and simple. We're all so friggen smart. Yes, I said "we" because I often forget that I'm pretty smart. I'm so used to comparing myself to the brainiacs at Oak Knoll and the Harvard rejects here that I underestimate myself. It's not until I'm out in the world, at various jobs, or on some dates that I realize that I have pretty intelligent noggin.

Don't get me wrong, there are plenty of fantastic schools out there and I know for a fact that some of my good friends in other places are smarter than I am but We are Georgetown and we rock. I'm warning my followers that in the next couple of weeks there will be various posts that will undoubtedly be in tribute to GU, DC, and the various aspects of my life here that make it awesome. And by awesome I mean better than wherever you are ;-) I mean, seriously, I go to school with people who will change the world and apparently I'm here because someone along the way had a feeling that I'll be able to change it too. I don't care if this was your reach school, your safety, or whatever, if you're here you're doing the work and you're a changing the world kinda smarty pants person!

So status update: I'm ready to move on and find out what it is I'm going to do with my life, I need a hair cut, babies with mohawks are adorable, I need to read Battle Royale so I can stop dreaming about chasing Asians, I love Georgetown and hot men haunt my dreams. Pretty much sums it up, no?

By the way, BAM! Mumford & Sons tickets for June 9th at the Merriweather Post Pavilion. Purchased. See what I mean when I say things just work out for me?

Go ahead and say it: "Mozel, Sassarella, mozel!"

Weekend Warrior: "This is a place where I feel at home" -C.O.

These are the three options the typical college student is faced with daily.

There aren't enough hours in a day or even a week to accomplish all three. For the last two weeks I chose "good grades" and "social life" which is evident by the dark circles under my eyes, the cough, and the headaches. By the time Friday night came around, Sassarella was running on empty. I woke up Saturday morning and headed home to New Jersey for a much needed break and a good night's sleep. On the train ride home I got to thinking about how I could not wait to be in the front seat of my mom's car. The front seat of my mom's car, it doesn't matter which car just as long as she is driving and we are the only two in the car is a sanctuary. I can only assume that after college the need to choose two will remain but the options might change from "school work" to "go to work" so it is essential for us all to have a sanctuary. The front seat of Lu Lu Belle's car is a safe zone. I don't have the responsibility of driving (first of all), I do my best talking and thinking the car, and whenever I'm in the car with my mom it usually means I'm headed home to Flo Po.

I have multiple sanctuaries. Where else do I feel comfortable, safe, relaxed, or even powerful and secure?

The pitcher's circle. I can remember in high school dealing with the stress of the school day, worrying about the hours of studying and tutoring sessions I had after the game, and the over-whelming stress of simply being a girl in high school. All of that seemed to go away when I stepped into "My Circle", put my feet on the white rubber, and fiddled with the ball and seams in my glove. Since I was essentially the only pitcher for four years and the first person to pitch on the school's new field, it was "My Circle". I loved pitching because I had control of the game and felt the power of that position. I also enjoyed the strategical aspect of calling pitches and assessing a batter. All of that aside, the circle was my domain and felt little to no insecurities or doubts on the mound by the end of my high school career. I know that if I stepped back into a pitcher's circle today that those feelings would come rushing back to me.

The back seat of Gabbie's car. Not in a Riding in Cars with Boys kind of way but whenever Gabbie, Lauren and I would go anywhere in Gabbie's car I always preferred the back. I liked to lie down across the entire seat and look up out the open window as we drove (usually to the beach). The music, the sun, the wind, and the sound of my two best friends making conversation in the front seat was a comfort that I'll never replace. I was the glue that held the trio together but I enjoyed "taking a back seat" every now and then. It was nice to hear them talk and get excited over a song with little input from me, the glue. We don't spend as much time together now as a trio but when we do I'm always going to "shotty" the back seat.

The post-shower cool down. Guys won't understand this but getting out of the shower and having to blow dry long hair in 80 degree summer weather is obnoxious. When I am home for the summer, I like to get out of the shower, blast the music, and lie down on the floor of my room with the windows open and the over-head fan on until I cool down. The world stands still for a few minutes. I can't really describe this feeling exactly but if ya try it, you'll know what I'm saying.

The streets of Georgetown and Washington, DC. When the weather is warm, or even scorching hot, a good healthy run on the streets is just what I need. A run in DC can last hours as opposed to a brutal session on a treadmill because I can explore areas that I have never seen before. Then again, if I'm feeling tired or in a hurry and just want to stick to the streets of Georgetown, I'm comforted by my "townie" status. It is difficult to run on M Street, Wisconsin Ave, and the side streets without waving to the many police officers, workers, and peers I see walking by or in the windows. I luuuurrrveeee it.

The final sanctuary currently in my life is the Bolt Bus. The Bolt Bus on a Monday afternoon is relatively empty so I have a full seat to myself, my iPod, my laptop, and four or five hours of zero commitment. My roommates and I always talk about how in college there is the "should be" feeling. The "should be" feeling is the guilt that consumes us when we should be doing work but we're watching The Bachelor or when we should be in the library but instead we're having that second helping of fro yo in the cafeteria. The should be feeling is miserable but when I'm on that bus there is no place else I could possibly be and nothing else I could possibly be doing. Sanctuary.

At any given time new sanctuaries are discovered. For example, during my prime at Nonna's two summer ago there was no place that made me happier than a super busy and chaotic Saturday night shift. Similar to "My Circle", the Nonna's dining room was my domain. It was my puzzle of people and tables that had to be put together in a timely and orderly fashion. If I do say so myself, I was a rockin' hostess with the mostess. Another example was phase I went through last spring when I spent every Friday at The Bean Counter doing work and drinking the amazing coffee. I felt comfortable and at ease in the usually deserted back patio. And just a few weekends ago, I felt the wonderful feeling of sanctuary at The Godfather with my parents or even coming back to Rhino late night and knowing I'm "home".  It doesn't really matter where it is as long as you get that feeling. The feeling that nothing can bother you, you have complete peace and serenity, and that your insecurities, your doubts, and your stresses are relieved and forgotten about for even just a few minutes.

This weekend accomplished just what I needed it to. I had a nice Italian dinner at Fiorino in Summit with my parents, hung out with my Luc, and got some sleep. Sanctuary, my behbies, sanctuary.

"To Build a Home"

By: The Cinematic Orchestra

See all ya'll biotches in the District!