Monday, May 21, 2007

What is the 'good' in goodbye?

This is documentation of Sean leaving for SoCal today. Notice my face looks ten times sadder. Sean just looks like I said, "It's sexy face time". Which wouldn't have looked sexy face anyway. Although I'll cut him a break because he did have his Queer as Folk DVD set potentially confiscated.
Why can't we get all the people together in the world that we really like and then just stay together? I guess that wouldn't work. Someone would leave. Someone always leaves and then we have to say good-bye. I hate good-byes. I know what I need. I need more hellos.

"No distance of place or lapse of time can lessen the friendship of those who are thoroughly persuaded of each other's worth."

God; anyone wanna little bit?

i'm not going to post about graduation. 1, because Sean's rant is overwhelming and mind numbing and everything i managed to avoid that weekend. Mostly because it included friends and 20 minutes of family time. And all I'm feeling is overwhelmed and anxious and sad because everything is changing and i FUCKING HATE TRANSITION.

however, on a 'lighter' note, let's talk about Part 1 of my sister's graduation (oh yes, there was more than one part) this weekend...

Villanova is a lovely school. It's academically acceptable, it's on the Main Line, there are always plenty of WASPy boys wearing salmon colored Dockers with Ralph Lauren polos (collar POP!) and complimentary matching pastel colored cashmere sweaters wrapped "casually" around said WASPy shoulders, an exceedingly large amount of New Yorkers in their SUVs who drive like get the picture.

Villanova is also Catholic. Not just like affiliated with Catholicism, but like hardcore brothers are walking around campus. Like, for graduation they have a mass on the football field for 1000 people. And I had to go. Which not only made me seethe with discomfort and hate for organized religion, but also ruined my opportunity to see Sean before he left for SoCal for good.

Listen, I went to a religious college undergrad. Worst four years of my life. Religion, boondocks of PA, and football players wearing Old Navy jeans and shirts that say 'COLLEGE' and me don't really mix. I was hiding most of the time. Literally. I've also clearly been experiencing Posttraumatic Stress Disorder as I have managed to completely block out this experience therefore causing an averse, anxiety inducing exposure moment when on the Villanova football field.

Some highlights:

1. The wind was making the speakers pound with reverberation.
Thank you, the god fearing effect was noted.

2. The priest (minister? rabbi? reverend? who?) with arms outstretched and robe flapping in the wind.
It was like a scene out of Jesus Camp. i'm not kidding. i was scared. and uncomfortable. and getting dirty looks from the 24 year old guy behind me b/c i didn't cross myself at the signaled times. But shit, no one else was giving me a hug. I was trying to protect myself from the demons!

3. The Communion procession for 1000 people.
I kid you not. I was one of two people who did not take the wafer communion. The other person was my sister. And so, this really does beg the question, "What the fuck were we doing there??", considering the only time I set foot in a church is during Xmas and the only reason that happens is because I do it for my grandfather whose conditional love I'm afraid of along with the guilt trip he would bestow upon on me while on his deathbed.

4. There were 21 year old graduates standing in the aisle with their eyes closed and arms outstretched.
Listen. Let me do you a favor and schedule an appointment at the Evangelical church for you and your respective craziness. This is bad enough. Do we really need to take it to that level?

5. This is what a Catholic church service sounds like on a football field:
And the lord answered..swered, swered, swered....
lord the almighty, mighty, mighty...
you are a bad person, son, son, son...
the power of christ compells you, you, you...

6. Also, did you know that at these large organized masses you have to shake hands and make friends with your neighbors? Read: neighbors = people you don't know and don't really want to know b/c you know all these fuckers have a W sticker on the back of their car and are voting Republican in '08 and don't give a fuck whether or not I want to choose to get an abortion if necessary.

7. And in closing, I would like to include a direct quote from the last five minutes of the mass given by the priest/rabbi/minister/reverend:
"I know it's raining and windy. I ask you, don't leave. (Notice that's not a question). If you walk away now, you will never know what it is you missed at the end of this mass."
That Catholic guilt .. they do it to you right.

[Note: There are no exaggerations in these examples.]
All this when I could have been having drinks with Sean (who, like every other male in my life, abandoned me at 6am today) and then attended Madonnarama at Pure. And if God wasn't completely proud of me for doing those two things, he would have at least been a hell of a lot more entertained.

Saturday, May 19, 2007

Graduation = Overrated

So we're done! And it feels...exactly the same? Being the third graduation for both Mel and myself (high school, "college," and grad school [I put college in quotes because I was so wasted that I'm not even really sure I was there]), I feel that we've both come to the same (2) conclusions:

1.) Graduation blows. Its lame, takes too long, and clearly is NOT geared towards the students, but is a giant, blow-hardy cluster-fuck engineered solely as a money-making craptastic shit-fest for the parents, and;

b.) NEVER again.

I used to joke and think "wow, I *never* want to leave school!" ...Who the fuck was I kidding? Lets go over it one more time. 2 of the hardest, shittiest and most stress-filled years of my life at Penn, and what do I walk away with? A $100,000 debt and herpes. I'm kidding, my debt is actually $107,000.

Maybe Mel will be able to post something to the alternative, but here was MY graduation in a nutshell:

1.) Friends, family and boyfriend all fly in at different times (read: 4 trips to the fucking airport).
b.) Friends want to party every night; boyfriend demands cuddling every night; mother demands sight-seeing every morning @ the crack of dawn; thus, Sean demands knife for wrist-slitting.
III.) Forced nightly "casual" dinners with boyfrend, mother, aunt and friends EVERY night at different, "trendy" Philadelphia restaurant, which resulted in abnormally stressful situations where I sat clutching the tablecloth, praying to jesus christ that nobody mentions scandalous events from my past in front of my god-fearing, republican family.

On a high point, I'll leave Penn with an amazing education and friendships with some of the most fantastic people I'll ever maybe it wasn't all bad. :-)

Monday, May 14, 2007


Sean and I are graduating today from our respective programs at Penn. Masters, baby! That's right...we are masters...of many, many things. So we'll be rocking out the hot, black polyester capes today with colored hoods (that's right..because we're masters) while wearing our shades and acting like we know something.

Congratulations are in order...present(s) are expected. I'm partial to Veuve Cliquote. Sean'll take anything.

Saturday, May 12, 2007

Really? Seriously? Cry about it.

In my support of Sean's first post, I bring you:

That Kathy and her fucking designer sunglasses. And her affectionate-less patting of Paris' arm as a pseudo attempt of good mothering. This almost makes you feel sorry for the privileged little girl who is entitled to what she wants, when she wants, how she wants. Not feeling so pantie dropping, "sex" tape making, backstabbing, ignorant tough, are we now?
If we could make Paris' jail time a reality series, I would fucking buy a 48 inch plasma flat screen and a DVR.
And by the way, are they really listening to Xtina's "Candyman"?? Because I think that's so something Paris and Kathy would do in times of desperation. It would make a lot of things a lot clearer.

Friday, May 11, 2007

Why Paris Hilton Getting Arrested = Gift From God

So as my first official post, I'd like to discuss a topic near and dear to all of our hears: Paris Hilton. I know, I the bitch doesn't get enough media attention already. But, thanks to a very wise and possibly intelligent California judge, our favorite valtrex spokeswoman will be heading off to the slammer for 45 days. Isn't it about TIME that someone finally said "hey, not only do you lack talent but you're going to jail for being a stupid, spoiled whore?" Methinks yes. And the icing on the cake? The fact that LAST MONTH Paris was caught on camera at some party hating on queers, dykes, jews, blacks, and pretty every possible racial mix that currently resides in California state penitentiaries. I mean, yeah, it sucks that they are basically making an example out of her (for public entertainment), but in the end, I think it'll be worth it. I mean, look at lil kim?! A year in the slammer, and shes fucking found Jesus. I can't WAIT for Paris to find God. And by 'God,' i mean "an angry mexican bull dyke post-op transvestite named 'Pat' who shares Paris' affinity for serious deep dicking."

Sunday, May 6, 2007

who wouldn't love my 21 year old sister?

Tamcat 09: ummm some WEIRDO in my clinical group (shes 21) was unnecessarily forthcoming with the details of her life the other day at LUNCH and tells us she and her boyfriend have been "trying" for months now
Tamcat 09: i don't even know this girl
Tamcat 09: and i go, "WAIT trying for WHAT?"
Tamcat 09: basically they aren't married and they are 21 and they are trying to have a baby
Tamcat 09: and she is moving to nj because otherwise he would 'probably break up with her' if she didn't move to be closer to him
Tamcat 09: im like, "sounds like he likes you a lot"
Tamcat 09: good thing you are trying to have his baby before you graduate college

Tamcat 09: she is so freakin dumb
Tamcat 09: and her boyfriend also has some kind of low sperm count or something so its like a PROCESS and she was talking about freezing stuff and whatever and its like, its lunch and your clinical professor is sitting next to you, and no one cares to boot. WHY ARE YOU TELLING US THIS
Tamcat 09: im like, "i don't like you"
Tamcat 09: plus , no one asked about your life plans
Tamcat 09: i'm like honestly, GOOD LUCK in life. that is the stupidest idea i have ever heard
Tamcat 09: then i go, "funny.... i've been trying to NOT get pregnant"

Saturday, May 5, 2007


in my increasingly apparent inability to think things through which therefore leads to making extremist decisions.....i chose to ignore that running 3 miles yesterday for the first time in a year would precede a ten hour waitressing shift.

and just so you know how stupid that was, it takes a full five minutes to ease myself into the sitting position to pee.

Friday, May 4, 2007

oh mah god

it happened. it actually happened...............i worked out.
as in ran. as in sweat(sweated? whatevs.). as in couldn't breathe. as in got really unattractively red-faced.
but it's like, if i have to watch one more episode of Work Out and have suicidal ideations when my jeans don't fit week after week, it's just going to be a bad scene. it literally took me over an hour to find something to wear yesterday because i couldn't handle the muffin top action. Ew, i can't even believe i just wrote that. Seven for all Mankind doesn't make jeans that fit fat-asses and given that i've reached their biggest size, something's gotta give because i'm certainly not giving them up. and i clearly can't do the whole no eating thing, no matter how much i try. besides, been there, done that, bought the t-shirt. therapy must have worked.
anyhoo! after weeks of contemplation and pussying out, i made the run mix on my iPod, threw on the sports bra, sweatpants and sneakers (and p.s. my SNEAKERS were tight?! is that possible?) and headed out. mind you, this whole process took over an hour.
ummmm...... running outside fucking sucks. just fyi. i got about three blocks from my apartment and the pain was so intense in my chest, i literally thought i was going to die. but then there were people around and so of course i had to keep going. i had visions of ambulances and ventilators and cute boys saving me. ugh, it was awful. why is running such a good idea in theory? and then you get out there and it's like you feel like the biggest failure of life because all the 52 year olds are passing you in their spandex which displays their legs which appear frighteningly more toned than your own 24 year old ones and you're just having an inner dialogue - um, bash session - that you have to keep going if not for the weight loss, then dear god, for eliciting the hotness factor when running (read: limping, panting) past any viable male prospect.
IT'S TOO MUCH!! and now i have a perpetual cough. and feel even fatter. and work out is on. how convenient. i'm calling a friend and going to get something to eat.
but first i have to get up. i think i might be dying a little bit on my couch right now. it's like i taste blood in the back of my throat. wtf is that about? so glad i'm working at mar tonight and get to eat allllll the fro yo i want.