This past Friday I hopped on 3:30PM NYC bound bus to see Thurston Moore in Brooklyn. Ideally I would have been able to leave earlier but adult responsibilities (aka my job) made leaving earlier impossible. My bus trip should have taken about two hours but with an amazing amount NJ turnpike and Lincoln tunnel traffic to contend with, I didn’t actually arrive in NYC until just after 7:30. I hustled as best I could, manning my way through midtown foot traffic to the first F train  I could catch, so I could meet up with Tony, Andrew and Jacquie in Brooklyn and to scarf down a mound of tacos and what I can only describe as a VERY tall shot glass of house Merlot. Usually this kind of wine holder comes is accompanied by an actual wine glass but I didn’t care enough at the time and basically downed it with a mighty college try. The last time I had the great pleasure of seeing Thurston live was back in 2007 and it was an excellent show made even better by excellent company so despite all the hiccups with my journey to NYC, my mood was hardly fouled.

I’ve been a bit more active over here: The Sweaty Beast: http://sweatybeast.tumblr.com/

Why? Simply because it’s easier right now. But no need to worry, I will eventually pick up my posting OVA here! (I swear!)

After weight training on Wednesday night, I headed to the pool for some drills. I swam for about 2o minutes, when out of no where an elderly woman HI-JACKED my lane. I was tired and in no mood to fight, so I decided to call it a day and head to the shower. On my way out of the pool, I noticed a guy one a lane over starring out the window. He seemed dumb struck. Eventually he caught my glance and said, “I’m such and idiot” and motioned to the window. “See that car right there, with the bag on the hood? Well that’s my car and that’s my bag and in that bag is my pool towel.” We both busted out laughing. “Well, it’s not gonna help you out, out there!” I blurted in between laughs. “Yeah I know right? Oh well!” And with that he shook his head and pushed off into his first lap.

This past weekend,  in a gym locker woman, a lady walked up to me and said “I love your arms! They’re amazing! Was it a lot of work to get them to look like that?” Before I could answer, she added on to her question – “…or were you one of those people who has always been active and just born with good genes?” I went on to explain to her that anything could be further from the truth and that just 5 or 6 years ago I was 130lbs heavier then I am now. The look on her face was priceless – she as aghast with both amazement and hope. “Wow, that is so amazing, I would have never thought in a million years. I’ve seen you here a few times and thought, wow I wish I could look like her. You are my new inspiration! I’ll think of you any time I feel hopeless.” By the end of her sentence she was basically tearing up. I swear to you, you can’t put a price on moments like this. They mean more to me than life itself.

If I could do it all over again, when selecting a major in college I would have responded with ‘Specifically, whatever overtly expensive ass piece of paper (aka diploma) that gets me this job’: Man Shops Globe

I know 30 is supposed to be the new 20, but screw all that.  In my eyes the 30 is WAY better then 20. Here are some highlights:

• Ten years later, I get carded, which I didn’t at 20 (Partial blame can be attributed to the sketchy stores (HEY COP SHOP) I bought my economy liquors from back then.)
• On a related note, I don’t look 30 nor <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/letsgetdecadent/332686148/”>do I act it</a> (I seriously still use crayons and play with dinosaur figurines)
• Per Wikipedia, “30 is a sexy number” – http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/30_%28number%29
• With the standard five year trend, my car insurance will go down next payment! Nothing beats watching those rates plummet, ya greedy bastards!
• I no longer live pay check, to pay check and have a savings account that is very impressive for someone my age. Not having  a need to dig in your couch to scrounge change for a cup of coffee? Priceless!
• With my most recent infection (f u hospital!) as a mighty exception, I am in the absolute best shape of my life. I am stronger, leaner and more athletic then I was at 20. Hell I’m in better shape then I was at 15.
• Again, per wikipedia 30 is: “Slang for pornography due to its representation as Roman numeral XXX.”
• When I was 20, I had little self esteem and as a result I let other people treat me poorly. Ten years later, I have self esteem at the ying-yang and will go toe-to-toe with anyone who wants to act a fool.
• If you attended college right out of high school like I did, 20 is a tricky age. You’re at a point where you’re almost done with college and truly feel as if you’re a small leap away from starting your career when in reality your YEARS away from it – well unless you’re looking to become a professional lettuce washer or something. Even if you have a job RIGHT out of school it takes 3, 4 or 5 years to actually ground yourself anywhere and the doom that comes with realizing this 6-12 months after you graduate is daunting!

Dear dogs – I know it’s raining out, but this does not give you a free pass to run in the house and “mistake” my green kitchen rug for your own personal green grass crap patch. Next chihuahua to lay a log, gets it!

Because my medical insurance deductible rolled over on Nov 1st, I just paid $381.87 for 12 anti-botic pills. That means each pill is worth $32, or basically a FULL tank of gas. This is why I hate the health-care industry.

I know a lot of people of wondering why I am in the hospital or rather, how I wound up back in the hospital so I decided to write this whole ordeal up.

I had surgery on 11/12 to have an old scar on my back revised ( As mentioned here: http://bit.ly/fH32PF .) The surgery went fairly well, with a few hiccups (small fever, I bled more the normal so I was slightly anemic post surgery and a hematoma developed when a stitch came loose – this was later removed and I was stitched back up) I was discharged as planned but a week and a half into my recovery, part of the incision got reallllly red and very painful ( I could barely put weight on that side of my body, so even walking was a challenge ) so I went to the ER because by my own assessment I knew I had cellulitis.

Good thing I did, because I did in fact have cellulitis which developed because of some fluid build-up beneath the surgical site. Because of this, I was readmitted to the hospital and went back into surgery the next day so they could open up some of the stitching and let the fluid out. By all accounts, an abscess had started to form and I had caught it JUST in time. This surgery went well, but when my skin cultures came back they found I had a bacterial infection (Pseudomona) which meant I would need to stay in the hospital much, much longer than expected because the only treatment for this is IV anti-botics. The ironic part is the bacteria I have is one is the usually obtained in the hospital which means, I most likely got infected at some point of my original surgery.

I was in a store yesterday and spotted a purse I liked. In my best effort to be a responsible adult, I told my boyfriend Jason I’d come back in a few weeks and buy it after I saved for it. Then, I went to the bathroom. In the time I was in the bathroom, Jason ran back to the store, bought the purse and was waiting for me outside the bathroom with it all smilely like.

He referred to it as me winning the “potty lottery.”