It turns out that something was wrong with one of my intestines (I don’t remember if it was the large one or small one) So I’m okay. It’s all fixed.
Operation Hotness Update:
This is tiring. I don’t know how hot girls do it. Next week I am getting contacts (to switch between glasses). This seems to be a great topic for debate because half of the people are like, “You look really good with glasses” whereas the other half are like “You have beautiful eyes, I want to see ’em” I think I’ll switch them on even and odd days or something.
I think I’ll forget being hot and just settle for being “funny.”
I was talking to my friend Ryan about Operation Hotness by asking him if I was attractive. He thought that I was confessing emotions or something (gah) but I told him, no, I just wanted his opinion on what sort of work I needed.
Then he said “You ask weirder and weirder questions everyday. Have you gone insane?”
When I said I didn’t think so, he said
“Oh my god. You’re turning into a girl. Where is my Sharon going?”
Hmmm..was I a man before? Further, I never thought of myself as tom-boy per se. But maybe I am and don’t know it.
I wear skirts sometimes!
In other news:
The topic of kids came up at the office.
I absolutely want no kids. For the following reasons:
1. I would like to have sex with my husband/significant other anytime I want.
2. I do not want to be too tired of sexual impulses.
3. I want to travel to Rome at a moment’s notice.
4. I want to be the most kickass parent ever. But I also want to be a film director. I don’t think I could do a kickass job at both.
5. I tend to be a workaholic
6. I am a broke ass. Kids are expensive.
However, I did say I would have kids if my man was really really really really hot and smart. I meant we’re lacking the smart people in America.
So, if the hot gene was dominant and the ugly gene was recessive, I would have a 3/4 chance at each conception to have a hot and/or smart kid. Better odds than marrying an average man with average intelligence (heh heh heh heh)
Cooper, however, severely disagrees with me and says the world is severely lacking of people of him and me (he calls us “the triple threats”…which I think you can figure out…I hope).
Dude, that was totally grammatically incorrect.
I am stuck in bed.
I woke up with a piercing pain on my right side which is bizarre.
I want to smoke a cigarette but can’t because I can’t get out of my bed because it hurts so much.
Oh god. I’m scared.
My mom’s a nurse and she came in and said that the pain was originating from my gallbladder and they might to take it out.
I am typing here because I called all of my friends and they are either sleeping or I don’t know what.
It’s times like these I actually wish I had a stupid boyfriend to take me to the hospital.
So, I went online and lo and behold I get a hold of my sister, who I am now waiting for.
I called my triage nurse at the hospital and she asked me all my symptoms and is baffled.
She says I need to come in to the urgent care.
GREAT. I can’t drive. It only doesn’t hurt when I lie flat on back, which is how I am typing this right now.
Anyway, I could be overdramatic, so hopefully it’s something stupid like gas.
I went to Wal-Mart today to buy the new Outkast cd. And I forgot about this but Walmart only sells edited versions of cds.
Sorry buddy, I want my sexual lyrics and my “parental advisory explicit” content cd if I’m going to buy it.
One of the joys of being an adult.
Further, this cd must be selling fast, there were only three copies at Walmart…and yet 8 million copies of Limp Bizkit and Jessica Simpson. (I bought my explicit cd at a the biggest computer store EVER, Frye’s, across the street).
I had to postpone my move date to the east coast momentarily. I decided to move to Boston after the winter was over because I didn’t want my brain to freeze.
However, making my shopping list for my new apartment is quite exciting. On my list so far:
George Foreman grill (I love this shit)
bake set thingy
That’s pretty much it so far. Stacy (the one who is moving with me) says there is NO IKEA IN MASSACHUSETTS…what the fuck?! Where am I going to buy my pseudo-designer bachelorette furniture NOW?!
Stacy is having second thoughts of coming out with me because of a boy. She’s leaning to come with me (She better fucking move with me, I will kill her) I need to move in manipulation mode and soothe her doubts. Plus, as a brunette and a blonde we would KILL the guys in Boston.
It will be great.
Further, I know practically nobody there and I would probably be too cold to be social.
Anyway, whilst figuring out my inventory, I find I’m missing quite a lot of things:
My chris rock dvd
My Office space dvd
My By the Way, Red Hot Chili Peppers cd
My Hall and Oates cd
My Reinhold Messner (ben folds) cd
*My high school senior yearbook.
I think I am most disturbed by my missing yearbook. I was pretty hot that year. Further, people wrote me some pretty lengthy entries. Furthermore, I was a social creature, so I’m in the yearbook 8,000 times. Here’s me eating. Here’s me taking a crap. Here’s me talking to myself. I don’t know when they took all these pictures or got these quotes from me (I am quoted saying something about O.J. Simpson and my television time) but it made me look like I was this shit. and hot damn, it’s missing.
High school is weird. I thought I was the unhottest girl in there. I was a lot taller than the girls in class (and I’m a mere 5’5) and a lot heavier. So I was constantly trying to be a size 0 with no boobs because…thats what the guys want.
If only I knew what I knew now. (I know, EVERYONE says this I would’ve kicked some major ass.
But then again, it doesn’t help if you’re AS tall as the guys in your class or taller.
This guy, Louis, was fucking hilarious and we were assigned to writing group together. He has this great sardonic thing about him and when we had to present our presentation to the class, we had this sort of inside joke between us and the teacher said “What are you guys, married?” You better believe I turned a bright red.
Later, a rumor went around how much Louis and Sharon liked each other. I was SOOOO embarrassed…which friend was the one who ratted me out? OOOH I was going to kill them.
Then, it turns out, HIS best friend started the rumor. Turns out that he confessed to his best friend that he had a thing for me.
But put two passive people together (boys were foreign to me then) and nothing happens.
And nothing did happen. I wonder what could’ve happened.
But I’m sort of relieved. I was a bit taller than him and I think he was self-conscious about it (he was 5’2) and I can’t deal with people who are not confident enough in themselves.
How the hell did this happen? I start talking about shopping a cd at Walmart to THIS.
I’m going to lose money at poker now.
I forgot my Ann Coulter book at work and I felt like reading something today.
And I have to say, Al Franken is fucking, no let me retype FUCKING FUNNY. It’s rare when I laugh out loud from reading a book…and I got a lot faster and further in his book than I did in Coulter’s.
In other news, food poisoning people. Today, I was fine. (Hooray!) Damn those mushrooms and those onions, damn them to hell.
I got a raise at my job, a 10% raise. wahoo. I feel sort of guilty because I’m doing a badass job but I’m not going to be there forever.
I have my BFA hung in my cubicle. But it’s hung with a clip and has no frame. Both of the lawyers I work for (I work for two now because they thought three was too much…hooray! It turns out, they wanted me to do more paralegal work rather than legal secretary work, which is more time consuming) looked at my degree and asked where the frame was.
My response: “I put all my money in that damn piece of paper that I cannot afford a frame.”
I think they feel sorry for me and are conspiring to get me a frame.
Oh and another secretary noticed I had a lot of people sleeping hung up in my cubicle.
I like to take pictures of people sleeping. I think it shows a secret side that nobody sees and sometimes, if I’m lucky, I get to capture a bit of that secret side.
Thus far, I have 5 pictures up of people sleeping in my cubicle. It might actually reflect what I’d rather be doing but, it lowers my stress level a bit.
Maybe if I’m feeling a bit random, I’ll throw up some of the sleepy people pictures up. Hmm…I think I’ll start an Amelie-type portfolio…but only of people sleeping.
Yeah, everyone except me, because I talk and snore in my sleep (on special nights)
I sleepwalk sometimes as well, but I haven’t done it in a couple of years.
Okay, I guess rambling entry.
I am nauseous.
For the past two hours, I have been throwing up and I have been utilizing the bathroom for the “number 3”, if you get my drift.
I had dinner at Outback Steakhouse with my friend Stacy. This is what I had (keep in mind, these are all foods that are allowed on the Atkins diet):
-salad with bleu cheese
-grilled shrimp appetizer
-medium rare steak with sauteed mushrooms and a sprinkling of onions.
Here’s a couple of things about me:
-I don’t like salad with any sort of dressing (I like ’em dry)
-I hate onions
-I have always ordered my steak medium rare.
Anyway, that mixture must of NOT agreed with me, because 5 minutes after leaving the restaurant, I felt nauseous….and I felt like coming out of both ends at the same time.
Stacy dropped me off to my car (I didn’t want to take care of my business at her apartment and embarrass myself) and I kept thinking…I just need to get home, I just need to get home.
I started to tear (not of sadness but I guess, out of uncomfortableness?), I started to sweat and I felt extremely faint/nauseous.
After a minute of driving, I hastily parked out of a starbucks (and stuffed my car odor spray in my purse for preparation) and used the bathroom.
I used the bathroom (and out of extreme courtesy, used the car odor spray, so the next customer wouldn’t die) and left. I was still feeling like I was sea-sick and asked for an Venti water.
Before I could wait for my water, I told the clerk (my friend Nina) that I would “be right back” went back to the bathroom and vomited.
Took my water and left for home.
Got home, vomited and THEN used the bathroom AGAIN!
I’m feeling nauseous just typing this.
Here are my theories:
1. I am food poisoned from my medium rare steak
2. My body is rejecting the onions (I’m allergic to onions)…onions have always made me hurl…however, the number 3 thing is new. Furthermore, I figured that a small amount would not do me no harm. I guess I was wrong.
3. My body is rejecting the salad, the meat and the mushrooms/salad.
4. My body is rejecting the Atkins diet and screaming for bread.
So, I’m going to, what was it about cookies? Blow cookies (yes, that’s it) right now and then go to bed, even though it is only 9 p.m.
For Halloween I was thinking of being a pregnant nun.
This would be good practice I guess
You know what I hate? When I go to the bathroom feeling like my bladder is going to explode, I release and I look to the toilet paper roller and all I see is…the toilet paper roller.
So I have to get up, jeans around me knees and yell out the door “HELLO!! Is anyone home? Hello! Need some tree carcasses over here.” and nobody answers my pleas.
Then I go out, jeans and underwear around my knees and have to fucking hop into my parents bedroom (where, strangely enough, my parents store the toilet paper) and I run in with very limited motion to grab the t.p.
I hobble into the hall and see my mom going up the stairs and about to gasp “Wha…” as I slam the bathroom door.
Yeah, I hate when that happens.
So I get a phone call from my friend Kevin (fellow New Yorker) and he and my other friend Becky are moving to Red Hook, Massachusetts and they want me to be the third roommate.
First, it would be rad to have fellow New Yorkers in a town where, essentially, I know nobody and with Kevin and Becky? Radness.
However, my friend Stacey who is renting out the apartment I will be moving in to is ecstatic that she has a new tenant after her other friend moves out. Apparently, her apartment/condo is like a block away from “Drum Hill” wherever the hell that is.
Anyway, with Stacey’s apartment, I don’t have to go through a credit check, I don’t have to pay first and last months rent and my rent is considerably lower than what her managment corporation place is charging (I am going to pay $650 a month whereas they usually rent out the place for $975 a month. Wowzers)
Further, Stacey and Kevin and Becky all want me to move out east in February. However, Stacey says if I need more time, she can ask her friend to stay in her place until April or May.
So, it seems that Stacey’s condo might be the better alternative (a place ALL TO MYSELF!) although my high affinity and regard for Kevin and Becky make me rethink my decision.
Well, I have to make a decision my November. However, I am stoked though because I will have at least two friends to party with when I do make the move.
So, I live in California and amongst my friends, I am either regarded as the:
1. funny one
2. the smart/intelligent one
3. the one that is always right.
So whenever I say something, my friends here automatically take it as law because, really, who is going to argue against me and be demolished by yours truly?
However, other diary-landers have seem to come to the impression that THEY can REFUTE ME! I do not know where their collective delusions of grandeur stems from, but those poor bastards.
One of the diarylanders seems to think that Democrats are right Democrats are right Democrats are right.
Or the way he is telling me:
It’s like, he’s trying to convert me to a faulty religion! I will stand agnostic with the Democrats versus Republicans (actually I have made up my mind but I don’t want to be bombarded with notes how he is obviously right)
My new goal in life: To blatantly expose this guy in a feeble apology and to have him give me cry for forgiveness.
Yes, this is a worthy goal.
I forgot what I was going to say.
So I guess I’ll give you an update on Operation Hotness:
Thus far, I would probably on code brown, which would be low on the hot meter (Duh, RED would be the highest colour on the hot meter)
And while being on Operation Hotness, I can see why hot models on the runway are so angry.
You know what they are thinking?
“Hot damn, I am fucking hungry. I need some pie”
However, the pie would negate the hotness and they would be jobless.
And that would not be good for the economy and hence, begins a chain reaction. (ha ha ha)
I think I’m losing my sense of humour on the Operation Hotness project
But if your hot, does it matter if you’re funny or intelligent?
Anyway, so apparently, being on the Atkins diet (all protein, no carbs nor sugar) my metabolism is going too fast being I’m always exhausted…plus I’m going to step class again. Apparently, this means my body needs carbs.
I was so tired at work today, I could barely talk (and this is a shock to a bunch of people) then for lunch, my friend Jill took me to Walmart and I bought some atkins bars with 2g of carbs each= I had a total of 4g of carbs…
…and MAN did my energy go up!
So, essentially I’m losing weight TOO fast (if you can believe it) and have to slow it down.
So essentially I might die from Operation Hotness
However, if I die, at least I will be hot…maybe I should just settle for being lukewarm instead.
Dissolution of sex stages (from a relationship):
- End relationship.
- End relationship but make agreement (verbal or unverbal or under the influence) that ex-sex is fine until somebody finds another partner.
- End ex-sex because “are we” or “are we not” together argument gets frustrating.
- Masturbate like crazy
- Masturbation wanes. Cut down to a few times a week versus a few times a day.
- Masturbation to a minimum, however, sex is not missed.
- Have gone without sex for SO long, you wonder if they’ve changed it or wonder if your previous sex life was just a dream.
- Virginity grows back.
- After several years, you get horny as hell again.
- Masturbate like crazy.
End result: you either
a) have continuous one night stands
b) settle for a relationship not up to par
c) get a kick-ass relationship out of nowhere
d) develop a stable of friends-with-benefits (read: fuck buddies) and rotate them on a weekly/daily basis
e) hire a hooker/escort.
Redevelop cycle unless you get married. That’s a whole NEW cycle of dissolution.
The ultimate end result: everyone reverts back to virginity.
Celebrated my one year anniversary of chastity (YA-HOO!). Celebrated by going to the Hustler store downtown. Crazy boy proceeds to (uncharismatically) to pick me up.
But I’m at the stage where I forget what sex is like, so I have no interest in dating or in the opposite sex whatsoever.
Two of my friends didn’t have sex for three years and they were the most sexually frustrated people I’ve met. Now, they’re okay (one even resorted to hiring a hooker) but gawd, will I end up that way?