Deep Thoughts...

After spending way too much bonding time with the family while preparing for my brother’s wedding, I thought I would be able to re-claim my sanity by now. Alas, it is not to be. A few days after the wedding, my mother fell, and fractured her elbow. Seeing as she is currently out of commission; I have no job; and we still have guests staying at my parent’s house, I have been called in to act as hostess, chauffeur, and all around servant.

I have come up with the following conclusions in the past week.

1. I have severe road rage. I love driving, I really do. Usually I am pretty good about avoiding drivers that are in my way, but the past few days have found me driving behind Granny in her 1972 Buick Skylark who obviously cannot tell the difference between the gas and brake pedals, which literally drives me crazy.
2. If you want to meet and have random in-depth conversations with complete strangers, go to any doctor’s office in Great Neck before 10am. These offices are filled with old couples who will talk to anyone about anything. In the orthopedic surgeons office where my mother was getting her cast and sling, I met a couple who must have been in their late 70s, Edie and Stan, and had an entire conversation about soy milk, and was given some good recipes with it. I don't even drink soy milk.
3. If I didn’t have the presence of mind to think before I speak and count to ten, I would really get myself in trouble with some of the things that come into my mind.
4. I REALLY, REALLY, REALLY need to get back to work. REALLY!

I know that this was a crappy post, but my brain is fried right now. I wish I had a better reason for why it is, but there you have it. Hopefully, I will be able to get my thoughts back together and post something that makes a bit more sense.

Slave to the Bowl

In mixed company, why is it ok for a guy to talk about random bodily functions, or a mother to talk about her, or her child’s physical and medical issues but when a single female does it, she is being nasty and inappropriate? That irritates me. So for all the single females who feel ashamed of talking about their bowel movements or gas issues look no further!

Disclaimer: If you have a weak constitution, avoid the rest of this post.

As there is no delicate way to say this, I will come right out and say that the reason that I have been out of work for the past several months is that I had chronic and persistent diarrhea. Apparently my colon became a hot-spot for some bacterial parasites I picked up while on a Caribbean vacation. Trust me, after 6+ months of peeing out of your ass, all the ladylike embarrassment made over a bowel movement is gone; not to mention the fact that I was basically confined to my house for a long time, never being able to venture too far from the toilet. The worst part of the whole thing was that I had to tell everyone; from my primary doctor, gynecologist, pharmacist, family, friends, co-workers and bosses what was going on. (An aside: Before a colonoscopy, you need to flush out all of the waste that is in your colon. When someone has chronic diarrhea, they still make you drink that nasty stuff. Why? Good question. Even the doctors at Cornell/NYPH couldn’t answer me. If you know why, please email me and let me know.)

Before my sojourn into gastrointestinal hell, I was never ashamed of talking about my bowel movements or gas issues. Talking was no problem, actually doing was an issue. I wouldn’t use a public bathroom to leave a deposit in, and when I went away on vacations and conferences, it took me a few days before I was comfortable enough to use the facilities. It took me almost 3 months to be able to use my dorm bathroom, and I lived in a suite with 3 other girls and had a PRIVATE bathroom. The issues that I had with not using a bathroom until I get comfortable or that I don’t want anyone to know what I am doing hardly affect me anymore; crapping your pants when you are 29 years old because you have not gotten to the bathroom fast enough is a just a teensy bit more embarrassing.

Bizarrely, with all of my shitting issues, I have never had an issue with passing gas. In college, my roommate or I used to “inaugurate” new places, especially if we were drunk. Silent ones only… I mean I do have some sense of decorum. I also believe in claiming your work, not to say that a big announcement with a parade is needed, but a small “that was me” gets the job done. My ex-boyfriend hated when I needed to pass gas, he used to say it was gross, although he used to fart around me all the time. He never claimed them though, but come on, how stupid could I be, especially if it was just the two of us.

Fortunately, my war against intestinal parasites has come to an end. Please accept this post in the vein that it was written; tounge in cheek, and with a lot of truth. When your friends buy you a package of Depends as a joke, you tend not to take shit seriously. (Pun Intended)

King of My Castle

The following is a short play that I wrote based on a true story. For hours of wholesome fun, get together with friends and family and act it out.

Characters:
Sloane
Telemarketer A

Scene: Early evening, around 6pm on a random weekday. Sloane is cooking dinner. The telephone rings.

Sloane: Hello

Telemarketer A (TMA): May I speak to Sloane Peterson please?

Sloane: Speaking.

TMA: We would like to offer... blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.

Sloane: No thanks, I am not interested.

TMA: Is there a Mr. Peterson or Head of Household I can speak with?

Sloane: No there isn't a Mr. Peterson, and you've just spoke with the head of household. Why would you think that speaking to another member of this household would get you a different response; considering that you asked to speak with me first because the telephone is registered under my name?

TMA: We'll try back another time.

Sloane: I don't think my answer would be different no matter when you try me back; please remove my name from your database.

TMA: We'll try back another time. (Hangs up)

End scene

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While I rarely give out my home telephone number to anyone anymore, I am always paranoid when that phone rings always thinking it is someone calling with bad news, which makes it ironic that more often than not, it is a telemarketer on the other side. I really don't mind the calls, they give me a chance to vent anger to a stranger with little to no repercussion.

I get about ten telemarketing calls a week. I have joined the Do Not Call Registry, and always ask to be removed from databases so I suppose it could be worse. Besides, my dad and I have a competition on who can make up the most outlandish stories tell the telemarketers or engage them in a conversation having nothing to do with their actual reason for calling. He usually wins; he is very creative. The last call he received from a chimney cleaning company, he told them that his house did not have a chimney because he removed it when his kids were young. The telemarketer asked him why (taking him seriously), and he said it was because when his kids were bad, to punish them he took the chimney away so Santa Claus couldn't leave gifts at Christmas. True story. Now do you see where I get it from?

Does This Look Like The Face of a Criminal?

Apparently, the NYPD thinks so. I was stopped twice yesterday by the police while going about my non-criminal business.

The first time I was stopped was at a checkpoint near Kennedy Airport. I was there to pick up some family when I was stopped and questioned if I was carrying any chemicals into the airport or had knowledge of anyone carrying chemicals. Obviously, since I always carry extra plutonium so when my Delorean hits 88 miles per hour so I can break the space/time continuum and go back in time like Marty McFly, I had to let the officers know.

The second time I was stopped was for speeding and running a red light. The officer that pulled me over asked me if I knew why he stopped me. Of course I knew why, but I played it dumb, and mentioned that I knew an officer from the same precinct , and was let go with a warning. It was too bad that I forgot to be all flirty, the officer was cute. Oh well, at least I got out of a ticket.

Hopefully, I am able to stay under the radar gun for the next three days, I can't show up to my brother's wedding in handcuffs, although they would look fabulous with my bridesmaid's dress!


P.S.: That's me at 5 years old.

Silence is Golden…So SHUT UP Already!

There are some days where I crave silence. No talking, no listening... just me alone with my thoughts. Usually when I have decisions to make, I close myself off from everyone and don't speak. I know, I sound like a freak, but it is one of my secret single behaviors. Yesterday and today have been those types of days; however with the wedding of the year at the end of the week, my days of silence are not to be. It seems that nobody in my circle of trust appreciates silence as much as I do.

Yesterday, I was offered a director's position at a small upstart social service agency in Brooklyn. The salary is a bit lower than what I was expecting, but the agency has less than 50 clients, so their budget reflects that. I would be developing an educational curriculum for incorporation into their treatment plans. While the job sounds interesting, and I would be given a lot of autonomy to do it, there is something about the job that just doesn’t feel right. I have a meeting tomorrow with the President and CEO to talk about what my decision is.

In trying to organize my thoughts to making this decision, I have been inundated with calls from friends and family, asking if I’m ready for the “big day”, taking care of visitors from out-of-state, and listening to everyone’s opinion on my job situation. I haven’t had a moment to formulate my own thoughts on the position and how I would benefit by accepting the job.

The more I try to withdraw and begin thinking about making a decision, the more people find me to talk to me about nonsense. Short of being blatantly rude, which I have been to a degree, and telling people to shut the fuck up; I have tried to convey the importance of silence for me at this time. Nobody gets it. They are in party mode after all…and how do you party in silence?


ADDENDUM: This is my horoscope for today. I think it says it all.

Wednesday, August 2, 2006

Sometimes you can choose to take the easy way out of a difficult situation, but this isn't the case now. Your current drive to do what's right makes your life more complicated than you prefer, but you won't have much of a choice. You must do what matches your deepest convictions if you're to hold favor with those people who are most important to you.

Daughter of the Year

Can anyone tell me how I got roped into being the official chauffeur, secretary, and personal shopper the week before my brother's wedding? Apparently, I am just too nice for my own good, and with Oct otherwise indisposed, it all fell on me.

My future sister-in law does not drive, so in the past two weeks I must have driven over 100 miles all over NYC running errands for the wedding. Doing these tedious "behind the scenes" jobs are stressful and for someone who is not a wedding fan, pure torture. I've spent more time looking for the perfect beaded handbag for my mother than I spent on deciding which college to go to.

All of the little details have been adding up, no thanks to my brother and his fiancee; who left the seating arrangements up to my mother, who then delegated that assignment to me. Between the stupid asses that RSVP'ed no, then decide at the last minute that they would be coming, to the special seating requests that people sent in with their response cards, I was able to organize the tables. I know some people are still not going to be happy, but in that case, they can kiss my ass.

This past week I have spent so much "bonding time" with my family that I should be the one leaving for Aruba next week. Considering that I gave up my summer vacation for this fiasco, I should be a lock to win the Daughter/Sister of the Year Award.

Love At First Sight

It's true when "they" say love hits you when you least expect it. Who would have thought that shopping with my mother would turn out this way? In the tradition of love stories, we saw each other across a crowded room and I felt an unseen force guiding my path to them. Yes, there were two, and yes I was smitten from the start. Threesomes aren't a bad thing. Anyway, don't you think they are handsome?

For more pictures, click here.

The shoes were originally $99.00, marked down to $49.99. I thought it was a good deal, so I looked for a size 7. When I see shoes that I like, I try not to get too attached, they usually don't have my size. They did, and I decided to buy them expecting to pay about $55.00 with tax and everything. Imagine my surprise when I went to the cashier, and they rang up as $20.08. Twenty dollars for a pair of BCBG shoes!! Someone from up above was looking down and smiling on me today. I tried to then go and get them in another color, but couldn't find my size and I also didn't want to push my luck.

I feel so tall in these shoes... I think I hit about 5'3". Ha Ha!

The Best Kind of Guy To Have

Need I say anymore?

Attack of the Teenybopper

In my lifetime, I've worked with murderers and other such violent criminals, but nothing scares me more than a seemingly innocent group of 14 year old girls. I know that I am a female, and thus, have once been a 14 year old girl, but in the olden days, I don't recall acting like they do. Perhaps that was because I was a geek who wore glasses and had braces. You all saw that movie Mean Girls, right? They're real, and this weekend I was waylaid by so many groups of these girls, it made me see the need for this post. I'll give you some examples of the torture that I went through.

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1. Bed, Bath, and Beyond:
Sloane Plan: Go to bedding section. Pick up sheets and mattress cover. Go to cashier. Pay and leave.

Girls in Sloane's Way Plan: Pick out Spongebob or other dumb cartoon item. Look at all the gadgets by the cashier and don't pay attention to the line formation. Talk loudly to your 8 other friends while you are waiting to pay. Ignore dirty looks given by bitchy woman with mattress cover and sheets behind you. Before leaving the store, congregate in front of the door looking at an infomercial for the Magic Bullet. Get in the way of all other customers trying to leave the store.

2. Victoria's Secret:
Sloane Plan: Pick out new bras and underwear. Go to cashier. Pay and leave.

Girls in Sloane's Way Plan: Pick up every single piece of lingerie on display in the store and joke to your friends that Johnny Youngballs would love to see you in this. Ask your friends random questions about how women wear certain items. Spray every perfume sample into the air while applying every lotion sample to your hands. Hold up the entire line to allow your friends to cut in and pay altogether.

3. CVS:
Sloane Plan: Pick up contact lens solution, shampoo and conditioner, and other related items. Go to cashier. Pay and leave.

Girls in Sloane's Way Plan: Enter store loudly and stand by magazine rack blocking entire aisle. Move onto makeup section and try all free samples available. Block entire aisle in front of picture development desk because there is a cute boy behind it. Rifle through the entire candy/gum selection in front of cashier without excusing yourself to the people you are disrupting. Upon leaving the store, stand outside and whine about how hot the photo guy is.

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The list goes on and on. Every store that I went into had gangs of girls on the loose. These girls travel in packs, in groups of 5 or more. They all wear the same clothing, have vapid conversations with each other and do not understand the concepts of common courtesy and manners. It must be the sociologist in me that wants to study these girls and their behaviors in their natural habitats; and try to instill some sense into them. I guarantee that the next time you see a group of girls like that, you'll look a little closer and know exactly what I am talking about.

Feedback and Follow-Up

Since I have been busy this whole week with random errands and knee-deep in wedding preparation hell, I decided that today I was going to have some "ME" time and stay in tonight. This is the perfect time to respond to some emails and comments that have been posted here.

Minnie: There are so many of us that if you tagged along, I don't think anyone would notice that you don't "belong" to us. :)

PG: The lithograph was given to me as a gift, I found out all of the information about the Mourlot Lithograph history after the fact.

Yara, Signgirl, Janie and Minnie: 3 more weeks and then I can banish the dress and shoes to the bridesmaid graveyard in the back of my closet. For the record: You CANNOT wear those dresses ever again, except on Halloween, and then only if you are going as a pageant girl... Or so I hear. :)

Sean wanted to know what kind of music I like to listen to when I am "getting some" since my musical taste varies so much. It's been so long that the last time I "got some" I had to get up to change the 8-track* ;). To answer your question; it really doesn't matter. I'll listen to anything with a good beat.

Jordan: I don't think I'll be posting a picture of me here. It's too public, I'm enjoying my anonymity. Check your email, it's not my picture, but I think you'll like it. By the way, the dubious behavior referred to in a previous post may get an explanation at a later date.


I think I got everything that needed a response. If you have a question for me, email me or ask it in the comments and I will try to answer it. Have a great weekend everyone!


*That was a joke, I'm not that old, but it has been that long.

Grow Up

As someone who has done a few dubious things in her lifetime, I'm not judgmental towards things that could be written off as youthful indiscretions. The only thing that I expect is for someone to take responsibility for their actions and the consequences from them.

Some of you may recall Oct and I speaking of an out-of-state cousin that stayed with us for a few days around Mother's Day. He came here looking at colleges and was basically handed a brand new life on a silver platter; with the full support of some 50 adults that were able to facilitate his success. He was given free reign of a rent-free apartment on the Upper East Side, one cousin got him a part time job at his firm, and another cousin and I used our connections in the education world to get him enrolled into college classes without going through a tedious admissions process. I could continue with all of the options and opportunities that were available to this kid, but I think you get the idea.

To make a extremely long story short, within 2 months of moving to NYC, he managed to get fired from his job (which he never went to) and he never showed up for one summer class or any other school related appointment. He went back home for 4th of July weekend without telling anyone and hasn't been back to NY since. Yesterday, my cousin and I went to the apartment and found it totally trashed with a hole in the wall, the toilet was cracked (I don't even want to know how that happened), and the window was broken, with garbage everywhere.

My family is usually pretty understanding when it comes to reckless behavior and wrongdoing; as long as you take responsibility for your part, and recognize your error, it will be forgiven and forgotten. Leaving under the cover of darkness and not telling anyone is a bitch move, that shows how immature and ungrateful he was towards everything that was done for him.

A Few Random Thoughts

Since my last rant about my job search, I have been on numerous interviews, and made many more connections in my field. Three of the agencies that I met with have made tentative offers after my first contact with them. I think that these agencies will offer me the best combination of administrative responsibilities and direct client care. Along with competitive salaries and benefits, these three agencies all fit into my vision of how I see my career progressing in the future; there is room for growth within each of the organizations, and opportunities for self advancement within the scope of the field.

Within the next few weeks, after more research and thought, I hope to enter into negotiations with one of the agencies; I think that if a job is offered, I would be employed by the end of September (conveniently coinciding with my birthday). It seems like a long way off, but social service agencies are notoriously known to take forever when hiring a new employee. For example, at my last job, I was offered the position in March, and didn’t actually start working until May. Wish me luck.

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At the post office this morning, there were 3 kids playing around with the stamp machine. As the mother was leaving she called their names: Destiny, Kobe and Beyonce. Is this how we are naming kids now? I am of the opinion that if the name would be inappropriate on a legal document or resume, you shouldn’t name your child that unless you want them to go through life unemployed. A child named Destiny has few employment options; would you trust your health to Destiny Parker, MD?

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I made a new friend. Go here to meet him. His name is Guy, and he is a really great writer. The name of his blog is This Place is Dead Anyway, and I've added him to my links.

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Find out what Oct and I think about bridesmaid mishaps, farmer tans, and who is # 1 on the drop kick list this week on our new podcast here .

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Currently, I am obsessed with the song Ridin' Dirty by Chamillionaire. I have it on repeat on my MP3 player. Don't ask. He fits right in with the Smiths, the Cure, the Foo Fighters and Jay-Z.

Calgon, Take Me Away!

Is there anything worse than being tied to a chair and being forced to watch 30 Minute Meals with Rachael Ray on a constant loop? Yes my friends, there is. Try sitting in a bridal salon in midtown Manhattan with my mother, future sister in law and her mother going through the most horrific experience called dress fittings with only a Treo for moral support. According to my mother, I was invited to partake in this torture because my future SIL likes my style, and wanted my opinion. Before you think I am some kind of fashion plate, I prefer comfort over trends anyday; however, compared to someone who still wears bicycle shorts and Keds, I am the reincarnation of Coco Chanel.

Their appointments were at 10am, 12pm, and 2pm. I was there for the ENTIRE day, just sitting there trying to email anyone that would respond so I could share my despair with them. 6 hours spend listening to the three of them discuss different hem lengths, undergarment options and other related bullshit while I sat there trying not to pull my hair out strand by strand. This compounded by the fact that I had to listen to the seamstress go on and on about how I need to find a man because I am "too old and beautiful to still be single", and "what if you want kids?" Uh, yeah, thanks lady, I will run right out and do that...just because YOU said so.

The only bright spot to my day was that I was meeting friends for at Scopa for drinks after the trauma I faced today. Nothing soothes my soul like good food (grilled pizza with braised duck and shrimp ceviche), alcohol and scandalous gossip about acquaintances. Now I am home, about to go take a nice long bath and go to sleep. I also turned the ringer on the phone off for tomorrow. I've learned my lesson the hard way.

*By the way, the previous entry was posted while hiding in an empty dressing room after escaping to go to the bathroom.

help me retain my sanity in the midst of chaos!!

How Do I Love My Family...Let Me Count the Ways

Ever wonder if you were switched at birth? I do, every time my family gets together to "celebrate" a holiday. Why, you ask? Well, grab a lawn chair and a Heineken; this could take a while.

Those of you that heard the podcast from Mother's Day know that I come from a large Italian family. (Those that didn't hear the podcast, you missed out, it was funny.) This leads to very large family gatherings at certain points of the year. The 4th of July is usually the largest. This year, however, our numbers have increased exponentially due to engagements, marriages and births. I would say that there were about 60 people at my aunt's house today. The following incidents occurred, leaving me to wonder if I should finally look into those hospital records once and for all. (I know the bulleted lists are getting old, but they are the only way I can think of to organize my thoughts after a long day spent with family. Forgive me.)

1. My aunts and uncles work on two volumes: loud and louder. Loud when speaking amongst themselves, louder when they speak to their children. You can then imagine that the decibel levels in that backyard reach astronomical heights. I am surprised the only hearing loss is of the selective version utilized by myself and my cousins towards our parents.
2. My uncle didn't have time to install a toilet paper holder or a towel rack in the bathroom that was remodeled almost 5 years ago, but he found the time to splice cable wires to set up a big screen TV in his garage so that the guys could watch the World Cup game.
3. Telling one person about the condition of my resignation from work turned into a game of telephone gone horribly wrong; I was interrogated about my future plans, my financial situation and given countless names and telephone numbers of strangers that I could call for a job, none having to do with my actual career or what I went to school for.
4. The main topic for the day was my brother's upcoming wedding. My future sister-in-law is not friendly. My mother thinks she is shy, my sister and I call it bitchiness. She spent the entire day going over all of her plans down to the last sequin on her shoes with anyone who would listen. That was my cue to go smoke cigars and drink with the guys in the garage.
5. If all the kids can play their PSP's and listen to their I-Pods to keep them quiet, why can't I read my book in peace? Getting interrupted every 13.8 seconds to see if I want something to eat or drink is very irritating. I can get whatever I want for my self. I'm a big girl, I'm allowed to pour my own juice now. (TM my cousin's 5 year old daughter)

I could go on for days on this topic, maybe Oct and I will do a podcast about it when she's done working on her movie.

Today is also my Grandmother's 95 birthday. She is coming from Italy in a few weeks for my brother's wedding. Before I get all sappy, I'll just say that she is the one person in this world that I trust and respect without question.

P.S. Should you move out of your neighborhood when you can't tell the difference between fireworks and gunshots? Happy 4th of July!

The Greatest Show on Earth

I have been told on more than one occasion that I have the mentality of a 12 year old boy, which, now that I have typed that seems a bit inappropriate, so it should come as no surprise when I reveal my most favorite show on television: Most Extreme Challenge on SpikeTV.

Before all the pointing and laughing starts, please read the 3 reasons why this show is hilarious.

1. There is nothing funnier than watching people wipe out while trying to avoid some dudes in a weird costumes over a pit of dirty, disease infested water. (see attached video on link)
2. I lied, there is something funnier, and that is the commentary that is dubbed into English, by these two Japanese guys wearing aforementioned costumes. These two guys are all about the double entendre, which pleases my 12 year old brain immensely.
3. Japanese imports are cool. (If you need proof of this, email me at sloanesdayoff at gmail dot com. Some of their *ahem* better products are not for the faint of heart. ;) )

Alas, no one I know shares the same enjoyment I get out of watching this show; so I am stuck watching it alone on my couch nursing a bottle of some sort of cheap alcohol while laughing my ass off and lamenting on what my life has become.

Morning People are Evil

Let me preface this post by saying that I am NOT a morning person. My family and friends all know not to speak to me in the morning, whatever it is can wait until at least 10am. I need at least 2 hours after I wake up to be able to formulate a complete and coherent sentence; just because I am out of bed and walking around does not mean that I am awake. Therefore, you can imagine my surprise when the following incident occurred.

7 AM. All is quite in my house. I was all comfortable and relaxed sleeping in my bed, dreaming of airplanes and luggage, when the telephone rang, waking me up. Now, normally I wouldn't get out of bed to answer it; I would let it go to voicemail, but for some reason I got up, and answered the phone. It was my mother, asking if I wanted to go with her to visit some family today. I asked her if she realized the time, that it was 7AM, and why was she calling so early. She said that she's been awake for hours and wanted to get an early start. I told her I would call her back in a few hours and then we could discuss plans for the day. This is the main reason why I don't have a phone in my bedroom; crazy incoherent conversations with my mother. I went back to sleep.

Less than an hour later I feel a tap on my shoulder. I open my eyes to look at the clock (7:38 AM) and see my mother standing at the side of my bed all dressed and raring to go. I ask her what she is doing here (damn emergency keys!), and that I remember telling her I would call her later to decide if I wanted to go with her. She tells me that she was in the neighborhood and thought she would come pick me up. Translation for all you that do not speak MamaSloane: You ARE coming with me, get your ass out of bed and get ready!

Usually I pride myself on being a mellow, laid back adult, but today, still half asleep, I threw a temper tantrum that would make my best friend's 2 year old proud. I won't get into the gory details, but it wasn't pretty. To add insult to injury, my mother said quite calmly after my tirade "If you didn't want to go, all you had to do was tell me. I could have been there by now." Then she left in a huff; like I told her to come pick me up, and then told her I didn't want to go.

The thing is, if she would have called me at a decent hour and waited until I was awake and able to kickstart my brain into functioning, I would have gone with her. So now I have to wait until she gets home, call her and apologize for being a nasty hag this morning. I mean, I gotta to keep my name in the will :p .

WTF!?! the sequel

Perhaps Blogger does not like Sad Sack Sloane, which is why this page looks wonky today. I'm trying to fix it, but have had no luck so far. If anyone knows why this happened, let me know.

Geez, even my computer doesn't like me.


Update #1: I had to re-load the template, so of course I lost all of the comments. AGAIN.

Update #2: If this doesn't work now, I will go back to a more sedate template. Blogger is trying to hold me down!!

WARNING- Maudlin Post Below!

My cousin's son, who is 14, graduated from the 8th grade today. I remember when he was born, and felt really old at that point. His class sang the "Graduation Song" by Vitamin C. It was cute, to see the graduates all excited to be off to high school with so much promise and expectations for their futures.

I'll give you all a minute to read the words here .

Yes, I know the song is corny, but listening to the words of the song, I started thinking about all that I have done in my life and if I am where I thought I would be. Everyone has a scary age; mine is 33. I made a list when I was a freshman in high school about the things that I wanted to accomplish before I turned 33. Looking back when I was 14, 33 seemed really far off. Now being 29, turning 30, 33 is just a blink away. I went looking for this list to see if I was really on the right tract with the decisions that I have made in my life. After finding it in an old shoe box at the top of my closet, (the ladies know what I am talking about), I read it and what struck me was that subconsciously I have been checking things off this list without realizing it.

Most of the things on my list I have accomplished, like graduating from college and getting an advanced degree, buying a car, and moving out. Some of the items are still doable in the next few years; travel to Portugal and Greece, buy some real estate (house or apartment), and learn to knit. It is weird to see that my 14 year old self was pretty accurate on how my life would turn out. The only things on that list that may not be accomplished before 33 are getting married and having children, although I can't say that those things are something that I want to still do, based on my history.

Boy, between this post and the last one, I sound like a sad sack. Never fear, snarky Sloane will be back as soon as NYC gets rid of this effing rain.

Back on the Grind

This is one of my better rants...

I have officially begun my employment search. I am quite disheartened to know that despite my stellar resume and experience, most of the agencies I have my eye on cannot afford me. This has been a dilemma of mine since I made the decision to formally resign while on medical leave. Most of the reputable social service agencies in NYC are somehow subsidized by the city, state, and federal governments which in turn leads these agencies to be frugal when offering a salary due to budget cuts and fiscal mismanagement by the government. It becomes a vicious cycle, and the people that suffer are those in need of assistive aid.

In college, I chose sociology to major in, thinking that I would like to continue on in some sort of law career. After graduation I went to work at a drug rehab, dealing clients from the NYS Drug Treatment Courts, figuring that I could be in a legal environment testing it out, to help me decide if law school was my next step. It wasn't. I began working closely with the Vocational Counselor there (most of the DTC clients were also mandated to a training program or work release as well). I saw that there was more opportunity to be creative with her job, so in lieu of law school I went back for my Master's in Education. I've mentioned before that I love the work that I do, and wouldn't change it at all. Except for the salary.

My asking salary is by no means astronomical, but only about 5 thousand more than what I left. For a social service position however it is quite high. The only positions that are available to me in that salary range have been administrative or directorships. All these positions have minimal contact with clients, and that is one thing that I do not want to give up yet. I feel like I am still young, I have the rest of my career to become a program director or vice president. I still need action at work, to be able to think on my feet quickly because my client is trying to get one over on me, not sit in front of a computer balancing budgeting spreadsheets and deciding who can take a vacation when.

So it seems that I am at an impasse. Do I take a paycut and take a job I really love or take the salary that I want and then hate the job I have to do? Sometimes being an adult really sucks.

I'm Old...

I just spent the day watching re-runs of MTV Unplugged with R.E.M., the Cure, and Poison.

You say: But Sloane, why is that a bad thing?
I say: It's not so bad, except that the shows were played on Vh1 CLASSIC!!!

Vh1 Classic, people. The music of my youth is now is now being played on a classic station!


Book me a bed at the nursing home, I will be there soon.

An Open Letter to One of My Best Friends

Dear Alcohol,

First & foremost, let me tell you that I'm a huge fan of yours. As my friend, you always seem to be there when needed. The perfect post-work cocktail, a beer at the game, and you're even around in the holidays, hidden inside chocolates as you warm us when we're stuck in the midst of endless family gatherings. However, lately I've been wondering about your intentions. While I want to believe that you have my best interests at heart, I feel that your influence has led to some unwise consequences:

1. Phone calls: While I agree with you that communication is important, I question the suggestion that any conversation of substance or necessity takes place after 2 a.m. Why would you make me call those ex-boyfriends/girlfriends when I know for a fact they do not want to hear from me during the day, let alone all hours of the night?
2. Eating: Now, you know I love a good meal, but why do you suggest that I eat a taco with chili sauce, along with a big Italian meatball and some stale chips (washed down with WINE & topped off with a Kit Kat after a few cheese curls & chili cheese fries)? I'm an eclectic eater, but I think you went too far this time.
3. Clumsiness: Unless you're subtly trying to tell me that I need to do more yoga to improve my balance, I see NO need to hammer the issue home by causing me to fall down. It's completely unnecessary, and the black & blue marks that appear on my body mysteriously the next day are beyond me. Similarly, it should never take me more than 45 seconds to get the front door key into the lock.
4. Furthermore: The hangovers have GOT to stop. This is getting ridiculous. I know a little penance for our previous evening's debauchery may be in order, but the 3pm hangover immobility is completely unacceptable. My entire day is shot. I ask that, if the proper precautions are taken (water, vitamin B, bread products, aspirin) prior to going to sleep/passing out face down on the kitchen floor with a bag of popcorn, the hangover should be minimal & in no way interfere with my daily activities.

Alcohol, I have enjoyed our friendship for some years now & would like to ensure that we remain on good terms. You've been the invoker of great stories, the provocation for much laughter, and the needed companion when I just don't know what to do with the extra money in my pockets. In order to continue this friendship, I ask that you carefully review my grievances above & address them immediately. I will look for an answer no later than Thursday 3pm (pre-happy hour) on your possible solutions & hopefully we can continue this fruitful partnership.

Thank you,

Your biggest fan Sloane

P.S. These are things that are difficult to say when drunk:

1. Innovative
2. Preliminary
3. Proliferation
4. Cinnamon

Things that are very difficult to say when drunk:

1. Specificity
2. Hippopotamus
3. Passive-aggressive disorder

Things that are downright impossible to say when drunk:

1. Thanks, but I don't want to have sex.
2. Nope, no more beer for me.
3. Sorry, but you're not really my type.
4. Good evening, officer. Isn't it lovely out tonight?
5. Oh, I couldn't. No one wants to hear me sing.

**********************************************

I was sent this as an email from a friend. I wonder if this person thinks I have a drinking problem? I guess the only time we ever hang out with is at a bar, so putting two and two together makes me an alcoholic?

Also for the record, like most of you, I have participated in and/or have carnal knowledge of the consequences of drinking before dialing, eating, walking and trying to complete simple activities the next day. I will also say that the five things listed above are not only impossible to say when drunk, but sometimes I also have problems saying them when sober.

Blasts From the Past

I know that I have mentioned in the past that my friends and family have an unhealthy fixation with setting me up on blind dates, and since wedding season has been upon us for a few weeks already I am happy to say that no matchmaking has occurred as of yet. Although, now that I wrote that, my cell phone will be ringing off the hook. I am like a bear, I hibernate in the winter, so when the sun comes out I am ready to rejoin society. For this post I thought that I would elaborate on some of the past horrors that I have been subjected to.

1. The guy who wouldn't leave Long Island, NY. - While I am a big fan of comfort zones and staying in them, there is something to be said for a 32 year old baby who will not venture into the big city to meet someone for a drink. Not wanting to rock the boat, I met him near his house. The only good thing about it was that I had a getaway car at my disposal. His brother dropped him off at the restaurant, He stiffed our waiter out of a tip, and he asked me for a ride home. I found out later that he doesn't drive. He never learned. He told me that his mother or brother drove him everywhere, so there was no need for him to learn. If I need to specify why I never saw him again, you obviously have not been paying attention.

2. The guy who swore he wasn't a guido. (he was) -When you wear a track suit with a wife beater, you look like an extra from the Sopranos. When you wear that on a date, don't expect to see me again. When someone specifically asks you if you are a guido, don't deny it. You know you are. Ask the gel in your hair, it will tell you the truth. By the way, if you are a guy and use self tanner in the winter, you have bigger issues than I want to deal with.

3. The guy who kept getting arrested. - I don't do criminals, I work with them. This guy had been arrested six times for charges ranging from inciting a riot to assault. Thanks but no thanks, I like my body sans bruises.

4. The guy who was engaged, but wanted to keep his options open. - If you thought enough of someone to ask them to marry you, then your options are over. As someone who has been cheated on badly, it really is not a nice feeling once it is found out. I don't judge, and I know that that type of situation works for some people, it doesn't work for me.

5. The guy who was a degenerate gambler.- This guy wanted to take me to the racetrack when we met which was fine, I like going to see the horeseraces. What was not fine with me was when he asked if he could borrow 500 dollars. Do I look like the First Municiple Bank of Sloane? I work in social service, I'm no millionaire. Needless to say, that ended quickly.

I know that there are things about me that would come out if this blog was written by a guy that I have dated, so ever the equal opportunist, in an upcoming post I will list some things about me that may have potential dates running for the hills.


DISCLAIMER: This post in no way, shape, or form should be construed as a cry for matchmaking. I can fuck up my own life very well on my own, I don't need help.

New Look

I thought that I would brighten up the place for the summer. Black is mysterious, but it's too hot in NYC to wear black at this time of year.

Happy Padre's Day

Just a note to wish my dad a Happy Father's Day.

He is coming over later to replace the sink in my bathroom, so I need to whip up something special for him to eat. If I ask him what he wants he'll tell me spaghetti with garlic and oil. He's an old school Italian guy, of course that is what he would want for a special meal.

I think he had the perfect day so far... watching some World Cup matches (Brazil vs. Australia), going to Home Depot, and installing a sink. He'll eat some pasta, drink an espresso, and take a nap on my recliner. Not bad for a simple man. That's one of the reasons why I love him. He is uncomplicated, and he has no expectations for me other than to be happy with my life. Which he is, I hope. Now if I can only find a guy like that...

Not Quite Norman Bates

Since the summer has hit NYC with a vengeance, there are some things that are a rite of passage that any female needs to go through. Along with the obligatory mani/pedi comes the dreaded hair removal decisions. Due to my dark hair, my decision is one of epic proportions.

For me, I tend to become extremely lax in the winter with shaving my legs. Even moreso when there is no-one in the picture that I would like to get "a little bit friendly" with. However, in the summer, this cannot happen because it is too hot to wear anything other than bare legs.

This leads me to my dilemma. Methods I have tried include:

1. Waxing: I usually get waxed before I go on vacation. It lasts longer than shaving, however the only problem with waxing is that you have to wait until the hair gets to a certain length before you can do it again. The spa that I go to charges $50 per leg.

2. Hair Removal Creams: Messy and smelly. They leave the skin soft, and the hair takes a long time to grow back. This is my second favorite way.

3. Shaving: The quickest and cheapest way to go. My hair grows back fairly quickly, and it is dark so I have to shave quite often. My issue with shaving is that no matter that I have been shaving my legs since I am 13, I always manage to cut myself. IN THE SAME SPOT!!! It is on my left leg, behind the ankle. I swear, the cut doesn't have a chance to heal before I slice it opened again. The last time this happened there was so much blood in the shower, I thought I was in the scene from Psycho. (The Anthony Perkins version not Vince Vaughn version, although Vince is cuter.)

With all of these options to choose from, I usually stick with shaving. I am too impatient to wait the time between waxings, and the hair removal creams are too much to fuss with. So I will continue complaining about cutting myself in the same spot and mangling my legs.

The Million Dollar Brain

I have a problem. My brain contains a treasure trove of useless information. I can't blame anyone but myself for this. Since I learned to read, I will read any and everything within my reach, and my brain for some strange reason decided to retain this information at the most inappropriate times. This trait helped me think quickly on my feet while I went through both my undergraduate and graduate educations and work related situations, but since my brain has been on hiatus for the past few months, I feel that I have to stay on top of my game.

This is the reason why I was on the internet until 4:30am trying to find out all the information I could about Michaelmas. Don't ask. I was reading a book about the different religions in the Middle Ages and came upon that reference and didn't know what it was. When I get fixated on a topic, I have this perverse need to find all of the information available and learn it.

Now that I have proven my geekiness, I will say that the book that I was reading was a research book for my novel. So I have an excuse. Someday I'll tell you the story of Eloy de Jong and what he has to do with my million dollar brain.

Fade into...Shoes?

As I have mentioned in past entries, I am extremely particular of my sleeping arrangements, which became the impetus to write this post.

For the past few days I have been dreaming about shoes. Now while I will admit that my closet needs a fashion makeover, my shoe situation is all above board. My theory is that shoes and bags are the two items in a woman's closet that will love her even if she has gained a pound or two or twenty. These dreams, while deceptively simple in their appearance, have led me to research the meanings behind these dreams (since I have a lot of spare time inbetween job interviews). I've recapped my findings at the end of this post, so those of you that are not interested in the minutiae of my dreams, just scroll down.

Monday's dream had me in a shoe store trying on horrendous moccasins that I would NEVER wear. They remind me of the old woman that lives next door to me, she is an old hippie who smells like patchouli all the time. The shoes I was trying on were all brown and the same exact style, which I don't understand then the point of needing to try them on. The shoes in question:



Tuesday's dream had me and some random people including some guy I had a crush on when I was in college, Morrissey, and Amy Poehler from Saturday Night Live looking through a cavernous closet looking for a pair of shoes to wear with the ballgown that I was wearing. The gown was blue and red and NOT cute. I looked like Little Bo Peep. The only shoes that were found during the seek and rescue mission were a pair of black Converse All-Stars that I wore while in college that I wrote and painted all over. These shoes are still in my closet, and I bust them out every now and again. They are like comfort food for my feet.

Wednesday's dream had me in my old apartment building collecting the shoes from my apartment, and going from door to door collecting shoes from everyone in the building and throwing them in an incinerator at some garbage dump. I don't remember what types of shoes they were, but I remember that I was barefoot.

Thursday's dream had me tying the shoelaces on a pair of new basketball sneakers as part of an even stranger dream that I won't get into here. For this one I need to see a therapist. :)

In conclusion: I need to up my meds. No, not really, but what I found was that I am a textbook case considering what I am going through right now healthwise and employment wise. I have never had dreams so similar in subject this close together. So without further ado, here is what I learned about my dreams:

I took all of the following information from here.

1. In general, shoes represent your approach to life. It suggests that you are well-grounded or that you are down to earth. It also represents your convictions about your beliefs. If you are changing your shoes, then it refers to your changing roles. You are taking a new approach to life. If you forget your shoes, then it suggests that you are leaving restraints behind you. You are refusing to conform to some idea or attitude.
   
2. To see old and worn shoes in your dream signifies that through diligence and hard work, you will find success. It may also mean that you have come to grips with accepting who you are.
   
3. To see new shoes in your dream, suggests that you are overconfident in your success. Alternatively you may be on a life path that is unfamiliar to you.
   
4. To dream that you are wearing inappropriate shoes for the activity at hand denotes that your progress and path in life will be laborious and ill-prepared. It may also indicate that you are heading in the wrong direction and need to reevaluate your goals.
   
5. To dream that you are not wearing any shoes signifies that you have a lack of confidence in yourself and low self-assurance. You may be dealing with issues concerning your self-identity. Thus if you dream that you lose your shoes, then it suggests that you may be searching for your identity and finding/exploring who you are.

It is funny looking in my closet knowing that my shoes are trying to impart some kind of wisdom on me. I also just realized that this post has been the most revealing thus far... posting about sleep habits and dreams with virtual strangers.

*Can anyone guess what song I based the title on? It's one of my favorites.

WTF?!?

I don't know what the fuck is wrong with Blogger now, but it is not posting any of my June entries, it has erased all my comments* and changed the layout. I am no computer genius, so once I figure out what happened, I will fix it back.



*Not that I had that many to begin with, but still.

Can't Knock the Hustle *

I gotta quit slacking with this blog. This is part of my gift to myself and I am still procrastinating. Bad, bad, bad.

Previously on Sloane's Day Off...

1. I OFFICIALLY resigned from my job, after "thinking it over" for a month. I just need to get there to pick up my stuff and to have the director kiss my fat ass. Yeah I said it; what? Was it wrong of me to make that place suffer for a month while I laughed and pointed at them? They offered me the month, I was minding my own B.I. business on medical leave. So now I am really unemployed instead of ill. I will start sending out resumes shortly; I mean I do need to buy my own birthday gift.

2. I've recently purchased a new bed, and I have finally broken it in. Get your mind out of the gutter you perverts. I am extremely particular of my sleeping situation, and any changes in said situation makes Sloane very unhappy. My sister bought me a set of sheets where the fitted sheet does not fully cover the mattress due to the awesomeness of the pillow-top. But they are red, and I love them, however I had to fuss with them every night before I organized myself to sleep.

3. I got my Atelier Mourlot lithograph cleaned, and ready to re-hang. This lithograph was done in 1967 by Brigitte Coudrain, and if you look closely, you will see that it is the skyline of lower Manhattan near Wall Street. Since the World Trade Center was in the process of being built at this time, Coudrain could not add it into her design because she did not know what the finished product would look like. Unfortunately, the skyline of lower Manhattan resembles this once more, and sometimes I have difficulty looking at it after what happened and knowing that I will never see 2 friends again.*

4. I started writing a novel. I am still in the beginning research and outline stages. It will be fiction, with a strong female protagonist. Hopefully, I will be able to take a page from some of the great female writers, and be able to collect all my thoughts into something that people would enjoy reading.

So that is what I have been doing since May 21st. I will be visiting this site more often now, since I really do have the days off.



*For those keeping track, this is the second Jay-Z song used as a title and it was used in memory of JQ, who would be 30 today, and PC, who used to play this song non-stop.