Does Debbie

Wednesday, June 29, 2005

Because I've Been Busy

Because I've been busy, I have not been able to run along the river, catching the exhaust of cars in my lungs, and the fishy stench of the warehouses in my nose.

Because I've been busy, I have not been able to surf the Web. I have no idea who has been added to Friendster or what the batting average is of my favorite baseball player.

Because I've been busy, I have no idea what shoes are on sale at Lord & Taylor, what Bobbi Brown's latest lipgloss is.

Because I've been busy, I have to write down people to call. I send emails in the middle of the night. I make lists.

Because I've been busy, I have learned to appreciate the fine cuisine that a vending machine offers.

Because I've been busy, I have no idea if my stocks are in the shitter, has my Money Market performed, how big is my overdraft.

Because I've been busy, I'm glad that it's summer and the only show that requires my attention is Six Feet Under, which is hitting the graveyard soon anyway.

Because I've been busy, I have new friends. I call them my laptop, my co-workers, the security people at the airport.

Because I've been busy, I get to the gym less. I require more "night time" activity to keep the weight off. I eat more and sleep less.

Because I've been busy, I forgot to write in my blog. I'm sorry.

Top 10 Reasons Why I Hate Tom Cruise

1. He has enough self confidence to get braces in his late thirties

2. He made Elizabeth Shue cry in Cocktail

3. Three words: Matt Lauer interview

4. He had the nerve to publicly criticize Brooke Sheilds for her support of a serious illness that affect many women

5. He hogs Steven Spielberg

6. He successfully continues to show the world he is not gay despite the years of rumors- it would be so much more fun if he finally came out!

7. He gave Katie Holmes herpes

8. He makes me want to barf with his love at first sight shit

9. His entire belief system stems from science fiction

10. He thinks drugs are bad. Man, is he missing out....

Tuesday, June 14, 2005

Work Dinner

I bet I can make you all jealous: I travel to Minneapolis about every other week for work. I know, nothing can possibly top the accumulating minutes of my life spent taking my laptop out of my backpack, placing it in the gray bin, and then putting it back into my backpack. Or getting to spend 8 hours a day with my clients. I can see you turning green with envy from here.

But in all seriousness, my trips are not that bad. I stay in swank hotels, eat amazing sushi (in the Midwest, who would think!) and keep fit by swimming laps at the YMCA.

Last night, in Minneapolis, one of the senior clients (he is an officer of the company) decided to take a few other clients, myself and a co-worker out for drinks. Fun. The place we went has the best Sauvignon Blanc I have ever had. After one glass, I was ready to hit my hotel for some room service and TV. But before I knew it, one of the clients ordered another round. Uh-oh, two glasses of wine within an hour. Yes, I said a few dumb things: Astonia is a country, NOT in Queens, NY. But I was doing my best to appear the smart, polished Marketing exec that I am. But then things took a turn for the interesting.

Within a blink of my eye, two of the clients rushed home to their families and my co-worker left to have dinner with a family member. I was left at the table, me and the VP. Yes, I have spoken with him before, but he is the boss of my day-to-day clients and a good 15 years older than me. And not only a VP, he is a VIP at the company. And I was tipsy from the wine.

Before I knew it, VIP and I decided to grab a bite at the restaurant, and another glass of wine. I was now drinking my 3rd glass of wine within an hour or so. And my ability to maintain composure was fading by the moment.

But this was my big chance to solidify my relationship with this client. I needed to sound smart. I needed to have strategic points of view on every topic initiated. I needed to act older than my 31 years. I needed to stay sober!

Dinner turned out to be fun- we chatted about travel and work and anything else I could think of that I could answer without slurring my words. Even CornNuts entered the conversation. But the entire time I was dying inside- I was drunk.

Today turned out to be proof to the success of my dinner- VIP and I chatted about the status of work issues, and he even bought me a bag of CornNuts. I survived my big work dinner with flying colors, and my atrocious hangover this morning.

Thursday, June 09, 2005

Crossing the Line

My mother and I are very close. At times I even consider her more of a friend than a parental figure, and she might say the same. We share stories- about work, friends, life. Even dating (when she was single.) But interestingly, and perhaps thankfully, we have never discussed sex. Today, at 31 years old, and when I was 5 reading "Where Do I Come From" at a friend's house- never once have we engaged in the birds and the bees conversation (although I doubt we would revert back to nature icons at this point in my life.)

Regardless, the strangest thing happened a short time ago: I talked to my mother about sex. No, not mine, of course. I talked about my sister's sex life. It was like a weight being lifted off my shoulders- the freedom to cross that line. I was able to talk to my mother about how important sex is in a relationship, how often it should happen, what it means when it doesn't happen- all through the guise of my sister! It was great.

But then, I realized why I never spoke to my mother about sex in the first place:

She told me that her husband has a strong sex drive for a man his age. GGRRRROOOSSSSSSSS!

: )

Tuesday, June 07, 2005

Space Cake

So this past weekend I spent in NYC rather than the beach as I wanted to "chill out" and relax. Interestingly enough, my choice in activities were anything but. Like deciding to grab drinks with a co-worker after work on Friday. And deciding that after two margaritas I should drink a double shot of tequila. Or deciding to eat pot brownies (aka Space Cake) at a friend's BBQ Saturday night. And then deciding that the amount I ate wasn't doing anything so deciding to eat more.

I normally would not share my "illegal" activities with the general public but what I went through Saturday night was too crazy not to. Before going to bed in my hallucinating phase, I decided to write down my thoughts. Perfect blog entry. Or a perfect way to get fired from my job. Just kidding. Anyway, what you'll read below was not edited. And written at 3am. But enjoy...

I am very high right now and want to write down my thoughts so tomorrow ,mornig this wont’ seem like a very weird dream. I am having a hard time typing and can’t seem to reeme ber where thje keys are. Fuck it. This is making me feel even weirder. When the red line comes on from a underlines word it looks cool. Like this. Kfdo. See?: that was supposed to be a question mark bur I couldnr’ find ir. Matt is here snoring; no he’s not. I am going to kill Stacey for letting me have ,more pot browmies/ they tasted like shit. But wow/ ok, I can’t hit the right keys and now I am getting tired. So I must go to sleep/. The screen is very brights and being this high I feel like the little girl from poltergeist. I am going to read this letter to stacehy tomorrow so she can see just how off my mind I am. If I stay this way I will be on the streets. I understand why crackheads are always high. Ok, goof night. This was fun.

Friday, June 03, 2005

The Fat Man

Preface: I am drunk. I was coerced into going out for a drink with a co-worker, which turned into 2 sweet palmogranate (how the fuck do you spell that word?) tequila drinks and a shot (which felt like a double) of straight tequila. But tequila makes me feel good. Buzzed, not tired, perhaps a drop horny. And I like to write when I'm drunk.

Anyway, I diverged. I wanted to talk about the one. You all know what I am talking about. No, not "THE one." I am talking about the one- the fat one. We've all been there. Perhaps it was too much to drink or his charm. But we've all dated one person that was just, flat out, fat. The fat one that you dated but didn't view as fat, but all your friends did.

Not that there is anything wrong with fat people. I know plenty of them. Hell, if I keep downing tequila and tortilla chips, I'll be a few ass dimples short of gastro surgery. Anyway, there is the person that you have dated that your friends referred to as fat, while you just didn't see it.

I dated my fat man a few years ago. We met on vacation and both happened to live in the same city. The warm Caribbean sun made his pale skin burn. It was cute. His hair curled in the warm sea. He said the right things. But I could squish my face into his stomach and suffocate. It was fun.

When I came back from vacation, I thought I was in love. I showed my friends pictures and they couldn't believe how happy I looked. We dated for about a month and then it died. We couldn't maintain the magic on vacation once we interjected our friends, our jobs, our exes. It ended before it even began. And then the truth came out.

My friends thought he was fat. Not just a few pounds overweight. Not phat. My friends thought he was a porker. And the more upset over our breakup I was, the fatter he became in my friends eyes. I perused the pictures, studied his physique. He wasn't fat. He was cute.

Flash forward a few months. I run into the ex at a beach in Long Island. The first thing that comes to mind when I take in his smile, his hair, his body?

Man, that guy is fat.