Standard Tuesday Break-up Post

So apparently, I post about my upcoming break-up on Tuesdays. I don't know why, until when I realized that today, I thought I hated Wednesdays.

A LOT.

But now that I'm thinking about it, maybe it's ok, cause I'm actually doing alright with the whole thing, so maybe this posting-about-this-ridic-sad-thing-on-a-Tuesday-and-not-on-the-shitasticiest-day-of-the-week-ish is like an omen of good juju coming my way. (Or maybe, it's cause I haven't been posting on Mondays so Tuesdays are when y'all get shit on.)

Yes that was the most absurd paragraph ever.

Anyway, other than the "I am TOTES IN CONTROL OF MY LIFE" feelings you guys got from LAST Tuesday's post (which... I hope you did!!) there are a bunch of other things I'm actually looking forward to post split from Grad School BF. I had begun listing them in the hopes that they would bring peace (one of those sad blogs on the internets told me to do it, and I'm pretty sure it actually worked for the Evil Corp Ex break-up), and they ended up being kind of funny, so I thought I'd share. Of course, have to mitigate the funny with the reality, so what I also came up with was the shit I'm really sad about in the break-up. Slash am afraid of? Anyway, that comes first so you can laugh (with me) at the end.

Things that 100% blow about the break-up
-no one to rub my back when i have cramps that make me unable to do anything.
-my best friend in dc going poof. like, one day there, next day nonexistent.
-worrying about Grad School BF when he's Grad School Ex. like, is he eating right, is his job ok, is he sleeping. and knowing that he probably isn't worrying about me the same way.
-eating TOO right, all the time, because "fuck it, i'm sad".
-not being able to watch a romantic movie without crying. oh wait...
-no sex. at least with another person.
-no date on national holidays
-loneliness. pitch-black, pillow-clutching, cold core of the moon loneliness that comes from having not been lonely for a very, very long time.

Things I am excited for in the break-up
-red toenail polish. GSBF hates it, i love it, and ima have it BACK.
-being able to abuse my friendships and familialships because "but i'm HEARTBROKEN so you have to see this really shitty movie/bake me something wonderful/sleep over and rub my back real slow with only a little bit of nail, no not there, yes THERE ahhhhhhh."
-eating food in bed again. it has been almost a YEAR since mama ordered in a pizza and ate it under the covers while watching Friends. think it's gross? well i think YOU'RE gross.
-seran wrap. i know, GSBF is strange, but he hates it. but how am i supposed to fucking cover shit??
-flip flops, all the time. well, probably not at work. but all the OTHER times when GSBF was all "i hate flip flops, but i guess i can tolerate them... but only on the beach." WTF! WHY DO I OWN HAVAIANAS?! which is probably spelled incorrectly, but whatevs, go Holland (eep don't hate me Joey, it's just about time).
-qualifying for a security clearance! middle eastern boyfriend who i happen to live with? why NO i do NOT have one of those.
-being able to go up to the city/the jerz/out with just the girls ANY FUCKING TIME I WANT TO.
-being able to stay in on saturday nights any fucking time i want to.
-not needing a brazilian every month.
-if i forget a BCP, i won't freak i'm pregnant.
-knowing that, though i'm ridiculously sad and cry a lot, it was my choice. i took back my life, dudes.

it felt (feels!) damn good.

CRANK... and not in the crazy way

So.

I don't have a lot of time, because I started my new job yesterday and apparently this meant waking up at 5am and not going to sleep until 11pm and waking up at 5am again (a few sidenotes: the not going to sleep again was um, my fault, but I NEEDED TO RELAX SLASH CATCH UP ON SVU. Also, ... Nope. I lost it. So not awake), and while this will not be the normal course of my work life, I'm REEEEEEEEEEALLY not adjusting well. For example, right now I'm sitting in my towel on my couch, back straight up, and it's all I can do to NOT fall back asleep.

S'no good friends.

Anyway, the annoying thing is I have a few really good posts lined up (if I do say so myself) that just need to be FINISHED and then they could POST but I'm pretty sure I don't really speaka the Engleezy right now, and also, I have to go get on the metro in 5 minutes.

Did I mention I'm still naked?

Anyway, I should be posting fo' REALZ, yo tonight so check back post 8pm or so. And for now, wish me a ridiculous amount of luck staying awake today.

Cause I'd like to make it to week 2 before falling asleep at the desk.

Well now

I suppose my crafty reworking of our national anthem wasn't enough for the soccer gods. SCREW YOU SOCCER GODS! USA 2012!!!

This is my vuvuzuela

Oh say can you see

By the dawn's early light

What so proudly we hailed

At the Algerian team's last gleaming

Whose broad kicks and bright shots

Through the perilous fight

O'er the TVs we watched

Were so cleverly scheming

And the ref'rees red glare

Goals that burst through the air

Gave proof through the night

That our team is STILL THERE!!!

Oh say does Tim Howard have yet another save

For the land of the free! and the home of the brave

USA! USA!! USA!!!

People Who Rock. People Who Suck.

People Who Rock:

1. My sister Grace, for sitting next to me on her bed. Rather, for letting ME sit next to HER on her bed. Trust me. I'm cuddler, and a holder, and a snuggler, and a stealer of blankets. She rocks for this;
2. My mom for being literally the best mother in the world and in a completely (no seriously!!) unrelated way, restocked my entire wardrobe with work approps clothing;
3. The friends (and strangers) who have reached out over the past two weeks to check in and see how I'm doing. I'm good!! But I appreciate it;
4. Special shout out to those who have offered places to live. Just wait until I take you up on it. See number 1, above;
5. Becca for introducing me to Modern Family;
6. General Petraeus in a "I hope you rock" way because we could really use a win about now; and
7. THE USA SOCCER TEAM!!!! ESPECIALLY LANDON DONOVAN!!!!! BECAUSE YOU ARE LE SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIZZLE!!!! USA!! USA!! USA!!

People Who Suck:

1. Referees in this World Cup;
2. My terrible recruiter for my new job. LADY. I HAVE LEFT YOU FIVE MESSAGES JUST GET BACK TO ME;
3. BP. Duh;
4. Boltbus internet. I had some funny lines on the way up to the city I wanted to share, but noooooooooooooo;
5. Chris Christie. In fact, I think we're just going to reserve this spot for him from now on. Either until he fucking stops hating on cops and teachers (the very people who you know, MAKE SOCIETY RUN IN A CIVIL WAY), he is number five on the people who suck list. Because he sucks, times five.;
6. Grad School BF's parents, for having their son 4 years too late; and
7. The Italian soccer team. Ciao ciao. Cry cry.

Clearly I'm currently in the Jerz for some famiglia time which actually coincides quite nicely with my need to see my family. Also possibly on the list: Maggie, Arielle, Emilia. Anyone else around? I'm in the ville!

A little lezione

So.

When I was a little girl, in 1990 I believe, both Italy and Ireland were in the World Cup and ended up playing each other. I remember being a gleeful 7 year old in my old house in Somerset county, jumping around knowing that "either way, I WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEN!!"

I liked love to win.

A girl from down the street was over, and she was like "but you're Americaaaaaan. Neither of these teams are Ameeeeeeeeerica." And I was like, bish plz, the US sucks at soccer.

Ok that's not what I said.

But if I HAD said it (and I'm sure I did in some way, but more like "nu-uh, I'm totally 95% Italian and 5% Irish" (math wasn't my strong point) "and America is already OUT") I wouldn't have been wrong. In 1990 my country of birth had finally made it to a World Cup (their first since, oh wait, 1950. Yeah. Five-oh.) only to be eliminated in the first round by, oh wait, Italy (and some other teams).

How many parentheticals were IN that paragraph?!

Anyway, as a 7-year-old avid soccer player and fan I had already learned that it was luckily I had an immigrant for a parent, so I could have a "real" team to cheer for. More disheartening than my country's lack of skill was their lack of caring. Sure, everyone I knew played soccer but no one gave a shit that we sucked. Rather, I was mocked MERCILESSLY for caring.

So forza Italia, forza Azzurri became my mantra.

In 1994 I went to the US World Cup to cheer for Italy, and wrapped in an Italian flag during the final, I cried in despair for the first time ever in a sporting match as Baggio kicked the ball high. In 2006, I cried for the second time, but now tears of ecstaticness, when in penalty shots again, gli Italiani won their most recent World Cup.

I cried again today, but in a complicated mixture of both emotions.

Twenty years later I am no longer a player (of... anything other than mind games?) but still the biggest fan I know in my group of American friends (and by American, I mean not naturalized, ehem, you know who you are). My family has season tickets to the New York MLS team, I watch Bundesliga and Serie A (and occasionally the Premier League, when forced) on the weekends, and I cut class and probably will cut work to watch Champions League. Every four years between then and now, I have donned a color blue the shade of azure, and kicked aside the pain I felt that the United States sucked it up repeatedly.

This year that all changed.

Yesterday as I emerged into the sunlight from the depths of Buffalo Billiards, in shock and full of joy, I witnessed a scene never before seen in the United States of America. Throughout Dupont Circle, people were streaming out of bars and businesses, talking about what had just happened. "So who do we play next?" a guy walking out of the SEIU in a suit asked his companion. "I hope not Germany!" was the response. Seriously. Americans (who weren't watching the game, because those people probably know enough about soccer to know to not go to work) not only were TALKING about soccer, but actually had some knowledge about what was next! This had NEVER happened to be before!!

And I used to live in NEW YORK!

It was crazy. I was elated, and as the day went on and facebook and twitter messages stacked up, and Yahoo! news went down, and ESPN replayed the goal over and over (and over and over, saying at some point "we're probably wearing this out, but why not?!"), my elation only grew. FINALLY people gave a shit. FINALLY people cared. Sure, we probably don't have much of a shot at the final, but WHO CARES. Oh wait.... WE DO!!!!

It was awesome.

Today, of course (of course for me at least), gli Azzurri failed to make it to the second round. It's sad, because the game had 2 different goals that as far as I can tell, were disallowed on bunk calls, and if we had had even one of them we would have moved on. But in all honesty, except for the last 30 or so minutes Andrea Pirlo was in the game, the Italians looked like utter crap.

Merda, if you will.

And yet, as I watched some of my faves - Fabio Cannavaro, who at 37 can't possibly be coming back, Gennaro Gattuso, who has stated he won't, and Gianluigi Buffon, whose injury I blame for 3/4 goals that were scored against us - leave, and my eyes filled again, I thought to myself that sucks, but. Well?

Forza USA!!!!!!

Hail a cab? Hail a MARY!

BEFORE we get to the "ha, remember yesterday when I was all sad and now I'm going to talk about things as though I didn't post that at all" entry, FIRST I wanted to encourage you most wholeheartedly check out Lilu's quest to become the first MTV TJ (see right) and to vote for her when you get the chance. Click here for more deets. GO LILU!!

So.

Restaurant Refugee's recent (terrible) experience reminded me of my recent (hilarious) one that I shared with Grad School BF and my very good friend Emilia. Emilia had come down to DC for my not-so-awesome birthday celebration, which turned into QUITE a lovely birthday (due in large part to her presence), and we were out celebrating my (and Leah's) birthdays at Local 16. After boobie-filled debauchery (seriously, the ladies were OUT that night) we three hailed a cab to take us home, and promptly did the drunk-slump.

Well I did. They seemed ok.

Anyway, we were about halfway through the ride when the cabbie missed a left turn, and decided that the best idea would be to continue on to the next indent in the road and make an illegal u-turn.

In front of a cop.

Well of COURSE we got pulled over, and then sat there as this douchey member of DC's finest proceeded to break into a litany of violations our driver was engaged in. You know. Like having his visor up so we couldn't see one posting (of three) of his full name.

It was nighttime. From what was he supposed to be shielding his eyes?!

Anyway, jerkface police officer aside (and AS an aside, I really like DCPD. They are almost always, until this one time, considerate, polite, and have other people's safety as their utmost concern. Having worked with them on events and you know, also just crossing the street, I have to say they are the shit) my favorite part of the entire ordeal was when Fratty Fratastic and his band of merry (drunk.) men walked by and were like "DOOOOOOOOOOOOOD. There are PEOPLE in that car!!"

Yeah, cause USUALLY cars are pulled over by themSELVES.

It all worked out, the cab driver was like "whatevs, I can claim most of this on my policy" and we got the rest of the ride home in silence to think about why we're glad we're not frat boys (and girls).

Which I think is a valuable lesson any day of the week.

When a heart breaks no it don't break even

So last night I ended things with Grad School BF.

Sorta.

At this point a little background is probably necessary, so let's see what I can do. In short, we've had a couple of really rough months, which I was prepared to work through and he, apparently, was not. This sounds like a condemnation, but I suppose a little MORE context is necessary. I've talked about the GSBF's age before (and its relative youth compared to mine) and in the end, asking an almost 23 year old to move past months of in-fighting and sadness is a little too much.

Which I probably would have felt 4 years ago as well.

Anyway, at this point, I kept pushing back the inevitable in the hopes that he'd remember why we're so great together, but when I went to my (new, awesome, I love her) therapist yesterday she was like "uh... why are you doing this to yourself?" And for the next 45 minutes, as I BARELY contained some serious sobbing, she took me through the things we've all said or thought to girlfriends before. "You've given him all the power" and "why are you holding onto this so tight" and "you won't be alone, that's ridiculous, you're a great person and there are lots of people out there for you."

Usually you don't charge your girlfriends though, ha.

In the end, as I stumbled, sunglasses hiding my super hot swollen eyes, into the Trader Joe's to pick up some eggs for... GSBF... I knew she was right. Postponing someone else making a decision about my life in the hopes that I will be able to convince them that really, I'm totes worth it! just doesn't seem fun (other than, you know, an employer or a university I guess). Not only that, it doesn't seem like something a strong awesome human being would allow to happen, and since I am a strong awesome human being, I decided to take control of my life.

Which explains the "ended things" but not the "sorta".

The thing is, as many many people who read this blog (aka, the ones who know me in real life) know, I don't DEAL with break-ups in a rational, adult manner. This isn't to say I deal with them in an UNUSUAL way, but you know. I cry a lot. And I don't eat, and then eat too much. I definitely don't want to see GSBF. And unfortunately, in the next month or so there are a lot of situations in which I HAVE to see him, between farewell parties for friends who are moving on from the District, Fourth of July stuff, an engagement party or two, and just in general, a heavy concentration of birthdays and things like that. In a month, he leaves the country for a month, giving me a month to find a new apartment, move my stuff out of ours, see friends, eat and not eat, all the while never ONCE having to see or speak to him. This is ideal for me.

So we're breaking up in a month.

Sure, it doesn't seem like the most brilliant idea on paper, but it works for me and since I am currently woman, hear me roar, that's the way we're doing things. Does it suck? Yes. But break-ups always suck, and this one was always going to hurt a little more because of the living situation and the being besties beforehand. But you know, on July 16 (the day after he leaves the country) I'm still me. I still have terrible taste in clothing, a penchant for wine and chocolate that is not healthy and am still obsessed with all things Harry Potter. At the same time, I'm still a funny, smart, considerate (if not kind) person who has lots of awesome opportunities and even more awesome people in her life.

In short - I'm gonna be ok.

For now, I'm going to go read some Harry Potter, and clean the apartment that is mine for another 1.5 months, and hope that this particular month is fun because I have the feeling the one after will not be so much. And that's just fine.

I'm so happy and not at all jealous

So.

Two of my very closest friends in DC got engaged last night. Well, I supposed they've been engaged for two days now but I found out last night. The point is, they met our first week of grad school, have been dating ever since, and are now going to be married.

And I am just so thrilled for them.

No sarcasm, for real! They are a really great couple, two of my favorite people in the world (and definitely DC) and the bride, when telling me, threw her arms around my neck and whispered "I'm not allowed to do this yet but you're coming to my wedding!"

It was ridiculously sweet.

But as I stood there with my friends Chelsea (married), Julie (married), and of course the newly engaged Becky I couldn't help but think - what the hell am I doing wrong? Not to um, make this about me (I mean it's my blog and I'll do what I to) but my relationship may or may not be in the pooper, while my closest friends are starting to hitch up permanently. I can barely manage to put on my clothes correctly, and some of my friends are putting clothes on their CHILDREN.

Luckily, this morning I spoke with my friend Laura.

(DC) Laura is just an amazing, extroverted, lovely person from northern NJ (woooooohooo!!) who is smart and adorable. And she has a boyfriend who she loves very much, but for various reasons, with whom she does not see a future.

Sound familiar?

She starts off with "Wow." I'm thinking - what? Nigeria's massive let down of me? Her new job? Some salacious northern NJ gossip? Or of course - the engagement. We danced around how happy we were for about five minutes, when suddenly she was like I mean I'm happy, but also a little jealous.

Which of course I felt too.

And then our conversation went like Phoebe and Rachel's from friends. You know. When they say they are 98% happy and only 2% jealous (and so on and so forth). We talked about how they really are perfect together, but we're pretty awesome too, and how we're so lucky we have each other (and our other friends) because we'll never end up sad ladies in our 80s. In the end, we settled on incredibly happy, maybe 5% jealous, and that we get to be semi-single together.

It was actually quite a nice result.

Every four years

So.

To turn a complete 180 (or as my former band director would say, a full 360. You know. Coming back to where you are. The man was an idiot) from yesterday, did you all know that the World Cup is going on right now?!

Ok, weakest first paragraph ever.

But whatever, I LOVE the beautiful game. It's my favorite sport in the world (and I'm all about sweaty angsty competition, whether its the Lakers-Celtics or the Yankees-anyone), and this is my favorite time quandranni.

I don't know how to quantify that time period otherwise.

Clearly, Italy is my faaaaaavorite team. I didn't have this blog during the last World Cup, which is probably very good because it really would have turned a lot of people off I imagine. All my posts would be drunken FORZA ITALIA and FUCK YOU (Brazil, Germany, France) and honestly, it doesn't make for very good reading.

I promise not to do this this time. Mostly.

Anyway, as the British announcers would no doubt say, it's been a lovely respite from the otherwise stress-wracked life. It's true that I watch a lot of games with the Grad School BF (because as a furner, he's a HUGE "football" fan), but it's hard to remember that we're maybe splitting and that it's only a few more days until I see the crazy doctor again when I can scream HOLY SHIT SPAIN WHY THE FUCK DO YOU ALWAYS SUCK GOOOOOOOOOO SWITZERLAND!!!

I mean, I just like screaming maybe too.

But it doesn't hurt that the players look like Cristiano Ronaldo and Didier Drogba. Or that the Italians have made my life of imagining them in their underwear easy by... posing in their underwear. And even with an ugly team like England, I get to hate on Wayne Rooney and say things like "wanker" and "WAYNE ROONEY STOMPED ON THAT PORTUGUESE PLAYER'S BALLS FOR CHRISSAKE". It's good old American (or not) fun.

Anyone with me out there??

Anyway, this is probably not the last I have to say on the topic (I would imagine a post of defeat when the US come out, alongside a derisive sneer at the idiots I watched the US-England game with last weekend who couldn't stop playing "Proud to be an American" - crappiest patriotic song, ever) and I can pretty easily see condescension in the near future towards those who drench their words in haterade because it's a "stupid sport".

Nuh-uh! YOU'RE stupid.

But for now, I just wanted to say, Forza Italia, goooooooooooo USA! And oh look - there's Cristiano and Drogba with their shirts off. Sooooo pretty.

"I'm falling to pieces" ... ish

So.

It's been forever, hasn't it? In the past month, I've celebrated my 27th birthday (a few times now), graduated from grad school, got a new beautiful computer (MAC!), gone a bagillion places (ok, on the east coast and Chicago), gotten a job (woohoo!), decided to run a half marathon (maybe), been diagnosed (wrong word?) with depression and am (probably) about to be a single woman for the first time in over a year.

Now you know why I haven't been writing.

I don't really know how much more there is to say about everything but the last one? Life is both great and not. Jobs, friends and family are AMAZING. Being depressed is pretty terrible. Lots of people have talked extensively about how widespread the condition is in our society, so I really have nothing of value to add (oh boy, that's kind of the problem). I will say, mostly for the benefit of those of you who actually know me, depression can apparently take lots of forms like not writing birthday cards or paying your bills on time, or knowing that you should be applying for jobs but really just can't bring yourself to do it, because why would anyone want a birthday card from you, why would your credit card company even care if you didn't pay (would they notice??) and WHO in GOD'S name would actually employ you?? It doesn't have to mean not getting out of bed, or massive crying spells, or not eating. Luckily, I have some amazing friends and family who have been ridiculously supportive and.. you know. Did and do all the things a person who can't help themself... does.

Side note, it always bugs me that themself is not a word.

As to Grad School BF there's not a lot to say until a post mortem is necessary, but let's just be clear that I still very much love him, and because of that should this all go down I doubt that, as opposed to past break ups, this will be the draw a line in the sand, never speak to each other again, demonizing the other party as much as possible affair (all my Evil Corps buddies just sighed in relief. Ehem!). If it goes down, it will be a massive heartbreak complicated by living together and all that entails. But I'll get through it - if there's anything I've learned in the past 27 years, it's that I'm a pretty OK person propped up by a bunch of better people, and things always seem to work out in the end. As the Dixie Chicks say, "it's just a hyphenated word, get it out I'm sure I'll be alright."

Yes. I did just quote "Let 'er Rip." Props to Becca.

Anyway, that's me, and if you guys were wondering where you figure in - I'm going to be blogging again! Fo' reals, yo! New job means LOTS of new time on my hands, and (probably) being single means LOTS of ridiculous situations to get myself in and out of. So every hurricane cloud has a silver lining, no? Alright let's be honest - between the job, computer (MAC!!), graduation and (one last time) FANFUCKINGTASTIC friends and family, it's like a sky of beautiful blue with one plump thundercloud in the middle. It'll rain itself out and we'll be back to blue skies, smiling at me, nothing but blue skies, will I see.