tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-80307714074071431052011-07-08T10:15:53.700-04:00The daily life of a NYC girl in her 20s. Sometimes mundane, sometimes silly. A place for thoughts. Take 'em or leave 'em.Stephnoreply@blogger.comBlogger291100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030771407407143105.post-70269251744557553652009-10-14T21:06:00.003-04:002009-10-14T21:26:45.742-04:00

That sentence is what tells most NYers that the season has changed. Yup. Pumpkin Spice Latte. Soon it will be the Gingerbread Latte (indicating we should start behaving our selves because Santa is checking his list). Time flies and soon we will start all over with the iced lattes again (summer - you get it).Yes, time flies. Obviously I haven't been on this thing is quite sometime, but life was

Stephnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030771407407143105.post-625300303608429832009-06-10T22:06:00.002-04:002009-06-15T16:33:55.952-04:00

This is what I know:1. my dog is a lazy bitch2. ben and jerry's has the best ice cream3. drunk homeless people usually say very funny things4. girls are catty bitches5. that no matter where you are in the country - "Raising Helen" is on somewhere6. that smell your pee gets when you eat asparagus? it's a dominant trait - most people have it but not all7. white tigers are NOT Siberian like everyone

Stephnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030771407407143105.post-78701188088974212092008-10-09T16:35:00.003-04:002008-10-09T16:39:40.988-04:00

I've been blocked.  At least 3 people commented on why I haven't updated in a while and the best thing I can say is - I've been blocked.  Not that there's nothing going on in my life.  It's just that sometimes I'm just waiting for something to happen, sometimes I've got a bit on my mind and I'm not able to write it down until I know how it pans out.  Like I can't jinx it or make it real or

Stephnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030771407407143105.post-49997385664571780672008-09-17T23:30:00.004-04:002008-09-17T23:44:20.612-04:00

Facebook is an essential tool for stalking.  Duh.  I'm sure this wasn't the most groundbreaking sentence since Shakespeare asked us "To be or not to be... blah blah blah some other stuff".  Which reminds me - "Hamlet 2" was hysterical.  See it.  I swear you won't burn in hell. Anyway, back to Facebook.  Last night, while enduring the longest night at work in ages, I decided to poke around on the

Stephnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030771407407143105.post-20450827983424910402008-09-16T15:44:00.004-04:002008-09-16T15:55:22.502-04:00

The makers of Yaz promise PMS side effects will affect me no more. They promise less bloating, less hunger, less oh-my-god-the-world-is-ending anxiety attacks. They promise all of this PLUS shorter periods. "Sign me up", I said.Well, it's been and a month and I see no change. Here I am, in the midst of PMS. I want to eat chocolate, I want to cry, I want it to rain so I can justify this

Stephnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030771407407143105.post-75803308899862113202008-09-10T04:29:00.003-04:002008-09-10T04:51:04.851-04:00

They make diapers for dogs. I know this because, this past weekend, I bought them. It was probably one of the most embarrassing purchases I've made in the past year or so. Even more embarrassing than when I bought "Fun Betty" which is a cleverly packaged box of hair dye for your "down there hair". It wasn't that much fun - in case you're wondering. I bought hot pink and the entire process took an

Stephnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030771407407143105.post-31693465784261385952008-09-02T17:20:00.004-04:002008-09-02T17:38:00.063-04:00

Four.  I have taken four pregnancy tests in the past week.  And my period isn't even late.Why so obsessive? you ask?  There are a couple of reasons.  The number 1 reason being that I've been unbearably nauseated every single day.  And in the seconds in between not being about to lose my cookies, I am ravenously hungry.  For weird things.  For the past 2 nights, I've made myself cucumber

Stephnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030771407407143105.post-86886322211269774632008-08-31T19:52:00.004-04:002008-08-31T20:17:42.693-04:00

With The Boy away for a week, I've had lots of thinking to be done.  To be honest, my experiences in the past with boyfriends going away have not yielded positive results.It started with my high school boyfriend who was bipolar and didn't take his meds.  He went away on vacation and cheated.  Not 1 summer but 2 in a row.  I think he adhered to that rule about not being in the same time zone, so

Stephnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030771407407143105.post-87805938727842832322008-08-30T05:40:00.003-04:002008-08-30T06:14:51.660-04:00

I was wandering around the Internet tonight (work was a slow and steady influx of drunks and stomach aches) where I came across a news story (OK it was on "Yahoo! Shine" - but still it was news) about a girl who started a controversial blog called "What to Expect When You're Aborting".  I read the blog (all the while I was very conscientious about the fact that I was at work and the word "

Stephnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030771407407143105.post-1865680444923418882008-08-29T18:50:00.003-04:002008-08-29T19:00:35.425-04:00

I still have 2 more nights of work, off Sunday and back for 3 in a row.  I love nights because I can get things done during the day and because I am so not a morning person.  But sometimes I miss the curling up on the couch with a glass of wine and some trashy tv midweek feeling.It's been a week.Last night at work a man peed in his applesauce container.  When I asked him why he said "It was there

Stephnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030771407407143105.post-43488561556582233282008-08-28T02:51:00.003-04:002008-08-28T03:06:16.565-04:00

I have to try and keep a positive outlook. Because I know positive thoughts make positive things or some shit like that. But I'm watching your dog and you can't call? What's that about?I like to think it's because you're all in 1 tiny room and they might laugh at the pathetic way you miss me.I miss you too. I miss the sex. I miss the grabbing and I miss you and me against the door of my old

Stephnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030771407407143105.post-2053054826739059782008-08-26T18:31:00.002-04:002008-08-26T18:42:16.013-04:00

Those marketing geniuses at MTV have created yet another reality show based on totally unrealistic lives of supposedly "real" people.  Remember "My Super Sweet Sixteen"?  The show about spoiled brats that spend more on their 16th birthdays than most people do on their college educations??  Well, "Exiled" is a spin off of that show.  The premise is - they take those spoiled fuckers and "exile"

Stephnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030771407407143105.post-8181894897514257112008-08-23T15:26:00.004-04:002008-08-23T15:48:15.692-04:00

I am old.  Old in the way that "hangover" takes a new meaning.  Meaning if I get shitfaced on a Friday, I won't feel better until a Monday.  Maybe not even this Monday.  Maybe next.  Last night we started at the Boat Basin.  Which I assumed would be a low key night for me since everyone was ordering pitchers of beer and I don't really love beer.  I thought this will be a sober night.  Ha.We wound

Stephnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030771407407143105.post-72738605985426327082008-08-22T04:43:00.001-04:002008-08-22T04:45:38.992-04:00

Oh. My. Goddness. Peanut Butter and Twix??? Who said this world wasn't a place filled with joy and love??Maybe I'll allow myself to have one one day.

Stephnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030771407407143105.post-14840810184693688192008-08-21T18:21:00.004-04:002008-08-21T18:41:32.171-04:00

I hate the fact that I still get a bit anxious from time to time.  For no logical reasons.  When I was a teenager, I used to get anxiety attacks all the time.  I was incapable of eating due to the fact that my stomach was in knots all the time and as a result my mom presented me with pamphlets about eating disorders.  These days, my anxiety attacks aren't as dramatic.  I still get the knots in

Stephnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030771407407143105.post-75491154629090181652008-08-20T18:31:00.002-04:002008-08-20T18:47:16.990-04:00

I was just taking my dog for her afternoon walk before I have to go to work and I recognized a woman on the street.She was the new mother of a baby who was a patient of mine a few weeks ago.  I remember it so vividly because her brand new baby tragically died, no real cause of death found.  It hit us all very hard in the ER.  Most of the staff that morning left in tears.  The hardest part was the

Stephnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030771407407143105.post-43127946597278104492008-08-20T07:36:00.004-04:002008-08-20T17:33:05.900-04:00

I am so f*ing nosey.  I guess it comes from being an only child.  I was excellent at pretending I wasn't paying any attention while the adults would talk.  But my ears were perked up to everything.  I took it all in, memorized it and used it to my advantage later on.  Sometimes only for entertainment.  Sometimes for prophet.  Maybe my nosiness is the reason I was drawn to working in the ER.  I

Stephnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030771407407143105.post-85442917446224733232008-08-14T17:46:00.003-04:002008-08-14T18:03:32.980-04:00

In true "I'm PMSing, stuck in a rut and I'm bored" fashion, I went ahead and made an appointment to color my hair auburn.  I haven't told anyone.  Simply because I don't want to be talked out of it.  The Boy is especially good at this.  He doesn't like change and whenever I mention something like cutting, coloring, lipo or boob implants (kidding about the last 2 - kinda), he manages to change my

Stephnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030771407407143105.post-58785629136025624302008-08-12T23:47:00.009-04:002008-08-19T14:53:21.090-04:00

I just got finished watching the chick flick Definitely Maybe.  The one with Ryan Reynolds and some other not-so-famous cast members.  I came away with 2 thoughts.  Number 1 - I want to dye my hair red a la Isla Fisher.  Number 2 - I'm terrified of falling in love, getting married and having a kid only to find myself divorced, my ex husband running off to Brooklyn (or in The Boy's case Australia)

Stephnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030771407407143105.post-23729571425481751812008-08-12T16:28:00.005-04:002008-08-19T14:39:44.346-04:00

I hate the last days of vacation just as much as I hate Sundays.  In fact, as a personal rule, none of my vacations end on Sundays because I'm pretty sure the results would be catastrophic.  The world actually might end.  So here I am on Tuesday.  The Boy and I did the drive in last night - where we had a front row seat to some amazing lightening shows.  It was one of those perfect romantic

Stephnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030771407407143105.post-32820827917061498262008-08-10T09:08:00.005-04:002008-08-19T14:34:47.376-04:00

The weather is beautiful, the pool is huge.  A perfect setting for doing absolutely nothing except what you want to do.  This is what Montauk is.  I'm awake by 8am every morning, but it's ok because there is plenty of time in the day for napping.  I could live in this small town by the water for ever.  I could leave the city - with it's sirens and it's crowds.  I could get used to nothing to do

Stephnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030771407407143105.post-30568966296870150442008-08-07T17:20:00.007-04:002008-08-07T17:48:30.038-04:00

I need a change so bad it's killing me.  I say that every so often - but then go back to doing the daily thing and ultimately getting stuck.I've been saying for years that if I don't leave my job soon I will never grow.  ER nursing is exciting for a while but lately I'm on autopilot.  And even the guy who had a phobia of stretchers (and an earplug stuck in his ear for three weeks) didn't make me

Stephnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030771407407143105.post-25334427293718492702008-08-06T16:24:00.007-04:002008-08-19T14:24:41.161-04:00

I read somewhere that the sense of smell is most closely related to making memories.  I think that explains why I love the smell of The Boy.  And my dog's breath.  And certain subway stations.  Each and every one of those scents brings me back to a certain time in my life."Stop smelling my armpits - you weirdo.  I told you, you can only do that when we're alone.  Not in public".That's an excerpt

Stephnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030771407407143105.post-13779441164647991992008-08-03T22:07:00.005-04:002008-08-19T14:17:44.325-04:00

I understand the fact that life is moving on and people are engaged and have boyfriends, new jobs and school is hard for you.  I, too miss the days where we would all get drunk on a Sunday and do cartwheels in the snow.  I miss the butterflies and the what-if's when we would discuss our futures.  I'm sorry he treats you like crap and I'm even sorrier that you take it.  But I am finished feeling

Stephnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030771407407143105.post-25964333052521885842008-08-02T01:10:00.003-04:002008-08-02T01:25:42.945-04:00

Sometimes it takes a sentence to put it all in perspective.  Today that sentence was "I really didn't think he was gonna do that to me". It came from a patient I had tonight who was badly injured by her boyfriend.  The father of her child.  And she was only two years older than me.I've been an ER nurse for four years and I've seen my fair share from the "oh my God" to the "God awful".  I rarely

Stephnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030771407407143105.post-55556952609135364292008-08-01T06:00:00.003-04:002008-08-01T06:07:07.277-04:00

Why is it completely acceptable to threaten, cuss out and basically spit on medical workers in NYC Emergency Rooms??  Seriously - how would it fly if I were to march myself to Duane Reed (where they are as slow as shit), cut the line and demand attention or I'll sue??  Would security not drag my ass onto the sidewalk and tell me to go to CVS for my tampons??  Yes.  So why, at a job where the

Stephnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030771407407143105.post-76158177253112244242008-07-31T17:35:00.005-04:002008-08-19T14:15:28.223-04:00

"You look skinny - but I don't know why I bother to say it - you don't believe me anyway".  That's the first thing Diana said to me yesterday after not seeing her for a week.She means well.She's right.  About the not believing her part.I'm one of those short girls (5ft) blessed with "curves" that are cute at 17 and then fast foward almost a decade and suddenly curves become muffin top.  I know

Stephnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030771407407143105.post-50279708707304074922008-07-31T05:27:00.005-04:002008-08-19T14:10:26.420-04:00

Even on my best days, there are times that my nemesis Anxious and her sister Insecure come to visit.  And while you've done wonders to placate my fears, nothing can stop them once they're inside.  When you say "forever", they whisper that "forever" is pretty vague.  They want hard proof.  A date, a limb, a shared lease at least.  I assure you they aren't who I am anymore.  But sometimes the past

Stephnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030771407407143105.post-80816052151111253092008-07-30T18:35:00.007-04:002008-08-19T14:13:36.715-04:00

I think back now to that day he moved out.  "I just need to get away for now.  I don't want this to be for good"; I didn't believe him then.  I knew it had to happen.  Hell, I moved out myself just a week before.  But I was only bluffing.  He, the well seasoned gambler he had grown to be, called my bluff.  He left with most of his stuff (the stuff I hadn't thrown out or given away to the local

Stephnoreply@blogger.com0