The Virginity Monologues

There moments in life that I want to always remember.

1. Riding home in the taxi from JFK with my BFF after our trip to Barcelona. We'd just spent 3 of the loveliest days of our lives, and were the picture of complete contentment, as we sat in the back of that cab, the sun shining, the windows down and the wind blowing in our faces. Remembering the completely amazing experiences we had just had, the 2 very best of friends. As happy as 2 people could possibly be.

2. Sitting under a tent at a wedding yesterday. The wedding of 2 people who are completely deserving of all the joy and happiness that life could possibly offer. Lightly buzzed on wine and the glow of being surrounded by people that I love. One such person, whom I adore and admire tremendously, stood next to me, running her fingers across my face and down my arm. I smiled up at her and she smiled down at me.

"Your eyebrows are perfect," she said.

"Pinky's on 6th and 39th. $6 for the best eyebrow threading in the city."

And I closed my eyes again. Content.

3. Harnessed into one of the fastest and tallest roller coasters in the world. Scared out of my mind. I reach my hand out to my friend in the seat next to me. While we wait to be "launched", she squeezes my hand tight. She didn't want to go on this roller caoster, but it the one roller coaster that I had wanted to do the most. Off we went. Faster than I was expecting (turns out, it goes 128 mph) and we screamed our way through the next 30 seconds. So much so that by the time we pulled into the building where we got off the car, my eyes were bloodshot! She turned to me, and gasped, "honey, are you ok?"

I nodded. Still reeling from the adrenaline thrill that we had just experienced.

And I knew I was sitting next to one of the truest friends I will ever have.

Life..... is great.

Today's title from: Wonderful World by James Morrison

I type in the words- gucci, fendi, miu miu. I'm working on shoes and handbags. I'm wishing that all I had to think about is shoes and handbags. But instead, I think about the friend that just asked me what i would do.

I would leave. I tell her. I feel strongly about abuse. And I have promised myself that I would never stay with a man that hit me.

Its an issue that is way beyond my maturity level. I want to make jokes. I want to escape to handbags and shoes.

I say the wrong things. I'm awkward and uncomfortable. With no real relationship experience under my belt, everything that i think and feel and say feels trite and cliche.

I want to make her happy, for even an hour or a minute. I want to do anything i can to lessen her burden. To make things easier for her. No amount of money seems too big, no effort too insurmountable. Just to make her laugh.

Everything comes out wrong.

Last night, after I flipped the guy off that was honking at me while I retrieved my coat from the cab, he called me a "fat cunt."

Then I came inside to an email from someone who is not my friend anymore, telling me that she can't be my friend because i'm too mean.

I've got no crush. No one in my black book. No one on the back burner. Even Mr. 11 won't return my text messages for reasons completely unknown.

Life... isn't great.

"You don't write in your blog anymore," she said to me.

I know. I don't have the heart for it anymore. I've been at this for 5 years and although I may have lost my virginity, I haven't ever even come close to finding love. All I have to show for my years of self-discovery is a very long list of douchebags. Everytime I write about another one, it increases my cynicism and lack of hope. I'm tired of meeting someone new, and getting excited about it, then 2 weeks later have to figure out what I did wrong to ruin it.

I'm still here. I'm still alive. I'm still struggling with my weight. I'm still meeting douchebags, although I'd like to think that I'm weeding them out sooner and with less drama.

I knew you were there before I arrived, as my friend texted me to inform me she had purposefully placed herself at the bar, since my 'boy toy' was bartending that night. So, I bustled through the door in a hurry prepared to flirt with you unsuccessfully.

Imagine my surprise, when you said to me as I bellied up to the bar, "hey! you been running in the park lately?"

See, we talked once before on a quiet sunday morning, while I waited for my perpetually late friend for brunch. In my senses guided exclusively by low self-esteem, I figured you had only talked so much to me that morning because I was the only person at the bar, and I look like I tip well (I do. Its one of my things).

But, after assessing from Betsy that she had not fore-warned you of the imminent arrival of her friend-who-goes-running-in-the-park, I realized that you remembered me and almost all of the things that we had talked about. I can't lie- my heart skipped a beat. Over the course of the evening, you came across as genuinely interested in me. Everytime you made a drink, you made some extra and poured it into a glass for me. You would laugh at my stories to Betsy about the insanity of my life and asked me about the dinner I had just come from. As Betsy and I talked about our favorite bar, you asked if you could join us sometime. Then, while I regaled Betsy with a hilarious story involving a 'buddy' incident in my boot camp class, you but in saying, "I love the way you tell stories. Its so vivid and I can imagine everything in my head."

And by the end of the night, you were calling me 'baby', which made me blush right down to my toes.

Betsy and I stayed until you closed the bar and a friend of yours came to meet you to go out for drinks and invited us along. We made our way to another bar in Harlem, and you proceeded to ignore me the rest of the night, until you hugged me when I left and asked why I was leaving so soon.

And now, I can't stop thinking about you. Betsy keeps telling me I just have to keep planting seeds.

UGH.

Today's Title from: In the Sun by Joseph Arthur

Today, I may have seen my most favorite picture ever taken of me. I'm at an engagement party, on a couch, surrounded by amazing friends. I'm laughing at something beyond the camera. And I look happy- down to my soul. And beautiful. This picture makes it very clear to me that the stupid, stupid boy who stood me up for Date 4 (4!!!) last night is missing out on something amazing (p.s. thanks to my New Waiting to Sleep With Guys philosophy, I hadn't slept with this guy yet, and I'm SOOOO fucking glad.)

And I'm not upset or depressed or feeling horrible about myself at all. I didn't waste one minute of my day pining for someone who doesn't deserve me. I went running in the park, I cleaned my apartment with my best friend in the whole wide world, then I went to a boot camp class, then I had dinner with Betsy, one of the most amazing friends I've ever had.

As I sat across from Betsy, I found myself talking about how having a relationship would really fuck up my life. How it would take away from all the things that I LOVE about my life now- the time I spend with my friends and my gym time and my nights of doing whatever the hell I want to do with whoever I want to do it with.

And I realized that it's time to stop bitching about being alone. Because really- alone is the last thing I am.

Today's Title from: So Here We Are by Bloc Party

I am finally on the mend from being stupidly sick and being really stupid about getting enough rest to recover. When I should have been home sleeping all weekend, I was running around like a crazy person to boot camp classes, brunches, parties, dinners and drinks.

I've been in a funk and I know I've been in a funk, so I've been working on keeping myself so busy I can't dwell on my funk. And hoping that surrounding myself often enough with the people that I care about will get me OUT of my funk. All of my endeavors appears to be working. I've found my smile again (shit- could I BE a worse cliche?) and I no longer derive a great deal of satisfaction from wickedly depressing music.

The best parts about the last few weeks of my life:

1. An R.E.M. tribute concert and after party, where I stalked Glen Hansard (in the band The Frames and starred in the movie Once and won an oscar for the song he wrote for it) like a crazy person until he agreed to take a picture with me. After taking the picture, realized his hand was on my boob for the picture. Best picture EVER!

2. Finishing the boot camp class on Sunday where I worked out SO hard that I almost threw up.

3. Ana's engagement party on Saturday night, where I spent a large portion of the evening cuddling with friends on a couch and kissing just about everyone who sat down next to me.

4. Talking to a gentleman one evening that I have been very minimally involved with (all involvement occured under the strong influence of alcohol and when sober, I find him to be mildly repulsive) while he texted another female in his life, whom he admitted to 'playing'. I commended him for being such a fine, upstanding man (sarcastically, of course) and he assured me he would never play this game with me.

"Oh really! Why is that?" I asked him.

"Because you'd just tell me to fuck off and then never see me again," he said.

BEST compliment I've ever been paid.

5. The news of a possible visit in 2 weeks from Mr. 11, who continues to be one of the better things that's happened to me in a long time. I heart him.

6. The realization that I have amazing, amazing friends, that I can admit really fucked up shit to and they will talk me out of my moment of pure crazy and still love me on the other side.

Today's Title from: Forest Whitaker by Brother Ali

Its been quite a week. My days swing violently from good to bad and I live in almost constant fear of losing my job as each successive person around me gets laid off. The continual praise from my boss comforts me, as does knowledge that I am almost the lowest paid person on my floor and doing 3 people's job successfully.

Even my life outside of work seems high on the drama with great dates and subsequent disappointment when he doesn't call, ubiqutious arguments over dinners, therapy, OA meetings and an almost complete inability to make sense of anything, or enough time to spend time with the people that I want to spend time with and an overwhelming desire to just be home on my couch, eating pizza and drinking wine.

I'm not depressed. I'm in a funk. I feel less than hopeful about my romantic future. With each successive disappointment, its hard to believe that anything real will ever happen for me or that I will ever actually be in love.

The good news is, BFF and I have booked tickets to go to Barcelona for memorial day weekend. We'll be there for 3 full days and it feels amazing to have to something so exciting to look forward to. Its over 2 months away and I've already got the basic geography of the city figured out, cause I'm a nutjob like that. If anyone has traveled there and has suggestions, please feel free to let me know!

Today's Title from: You Can't Always Get What You Want by The Rolling Stones

There's still too many men. And not enough interest on my part. I want to be alone, so I head home after work. I put on my best face that demands to be left alone, my earphones in and do my best not to meet anyone's eyes.

I think about the very sweet and kind boy with waist length dreads, who I've been on enough dates to sleep with, but who doesn't seem to have any friends or much passion for life and is terrible in bed.

I think about the boy I recently met with the finest pair of abs I've ever seen a picture of, who shares my sexual excitement for the gentle purr of a Porsche engine, with a meaningful, selfless career and a continued desire for higher education and I can't seem to summon a great deal of enthusiasm for our sharpied-in date for next Wednesday.

I reflect on the date I had last Saturday night with a beautiful pair of biceps, attached to a pretty face, not much of a brain and a staggeringly inept ability to kiss.

Then, I think about the text message that came in this afternoon from the Mr. 11, who's still in Miami, but each week brings us closer to May, the time when he moves back to New York. I don't love him. I like him. He's smart, smarter than me and ambitious. He's always there at the other end of the phone, ready to assure me that he misses me or indulge me in a round of spectacularly dirty texting and has been known to count down the hours until we see each other again. He's always been good to me and he's someone beautiful who has no qualms in telling me over and over again how beautiful he thinks I am. And I wonder why this can't be enough for me long term. Are my expectations too high? Do I want too much???

Does my ideal combination of hot, funny, smart, clever, witty, tender and loving exist? If not, what can I compromise on? I'm okay without tender. I don't actually need tender. In fact, sometimes, I find tender to be nauseating and silly. And okay, so Mr. 11 isn't exactly gut-bustingly funny. But that's what my martini nights with Email Boy are for. Nights when we get falling-down drunk, draw graphs on napkins about our levels of drunkeness, then consider taking home chairs in large trash piles on the street that may or may not have been covered in poo then make the other person smell our hand to make sure it's doesn't smell like poo.

Maybe one man isn't enough on his own. Maybe I will need Email Boy to be a part of my life forever, to fill in the cracks. :)

Today's Title from: Cigarettes and Coffee by Otis Redding

Labels: Email Boy, Mr. 11

Okay, gentlemen of this world. I want to convey a piece of advice to all of you that is becoming increasingly clear to me that all of you desperately need.

When you are newly involved with a female in any sort of non-platonic situation- whether it be romantic or sexual or any sort of mixture of the two, DO NOT talk about other women. Do not constantly refer to your ex and her weird habits. Do not talk about how you have an asian fetish and how you previously wanted to date the girl's very good friend who happens to be asian. Don't tell her about the girl that is in love with you and wants to have your babies. Do not tell your fuck buddy about the girl that you've always been in love with. Don't mention the lunch that you just had with the belly dancer.

Regardless of how serious or not-serious the nature of your relationship is, is disrespectful and inappropriate. I don't understand why this is such a difficult concept and why it is becoming more and more prevalent.

Got it???

Today's Title from: Do Me a Favour by Artic Monkeys

I got a comment- wondering what's going on, where have I been?

I'm still here. Still in the exact same place that I always have been and always will be. Alone. My taste in men may be improving, but I am still repelling them with the same expediency. I'm tired of writing about the false starts and the constant over-analysis. I want to start handling my relationships like a woman instead of a 13 year old girl.

I still run. I still work out. I still hate myself because I can't seem to get a handle on my eating. I've been battling the same 10 pounds for about 6 months now and it infuriates me endlessly. Food is winning in this battle, despite reading book after book and delving about as deep into my psyche as I can. I need something greater than myself and I'm not 100% sure where to find it.

Work has become a source of constant stress for me. Layoffs have been plentiful and although somehow managing to dodge that bullet, my workload has increased 1o times over and there is always the threat of losing my job looming over my head. I'm overwhelmed before I ever walk in the door in the morning and I hate that feeling.

How are all of you? Surviving?

Today's Title from: Karma Police by Radiohead

Well, my 31st birthday may go down in my personal history as one of my best birthdays of my entire life.

There was dinner on my actual birthday with my favorite people.

There was the weekend in Miami, which left me sexually satisfied for 2 full weeks.

There was a night at the symphony with Spatch, where she introduced me to something else to be passionate about.

There was a night at a spa with Ana, where we were scrubbed raw by funny little women then massaged, then she introduced me to her favorite korean restaurant.

There's been drinks with co-workers.

And the best part is, I haven't been at all upset about getting another year older. I'm so much happier with my life and where I'm at now than I was at 30, that I don't care that I have to add another year to my age.
_______________________________________________________________

Betsy and I walked into our favorite bar to hang out at on Friday night, planning to get a few drinks before we finished the night out. Cory was at the bar. And he saw us before we could turn around and leave. We said hi briefly then went to join our other friends at the bar. After our friends left, Cory came and sat down next to me and we talked for a few hours.

After he left, he texted me telling me its always good to see me. We went back and forth a little when he sent me a text that made it VERY clear that he was interested in me. I was confused, but decided to see where this was going to go. We made plans to hang out Saturday night at my place.

He showed up at 8:30 with a bottle of wine. We ordered take out and talked for hours. I asked him if he still wanted to date Betsy. No, he didn't. Did he like me? Yes, he did. I told him I wasn't going to have sex with him that night and that I wasn't interested in a purely physical relationship, so if this was going to be a problem, then maybe we shouldn't keep seeing each other.

I've never had a man be more respectful of me, in my life. He stayed until around 2:30 am, not kissing me until the last 5 minutes that he was there.

Where is this going to go? I don't know. But I'm pretty excited to find out.

Today's Title from: So Far To Go by Common

Labels: Cory

Is there anything, more painful, than sitting across a table from your crush, the man you've been talking to on the phone for hours, and thinking that maybe, just maybe, it could finally be your turn, and hearing him tell you that he has to be honest with you and tell you, that he's been hoping to date your friend?

I think not.

If only I was skinny, you think to yourself. So you go to the gym, you punish yourself. You berate yourself for being so stupid as to believe that this one could actually like you. I mean, really, have you seen Betsy? She's tiny and charming as hell. Just what the fuck were you thinking?

And then, when you're having lunch with Betsy after the gym, cause she's one of your best friends, she tells you that she think's you're smart and wonderful and beautiful and she apologizes profusely, even though its not her fault.

You feel small and silly and pathetic. And you wonder how much more its going to take for you to finally learn your lesson and just stop hoping.

Today's Title from: Something I Can Never Have by Nine Inch Nails

Labels: Cory

As we drove under the sign announcing that we had arrived at Miami International Airport, my heart broke a little. I would have to remove my flips flops and start wearing a scarf again shortly. It was unfair and it was much too soon.

The 2 days could not have been more perfect. We slept. We ate. We had incredible, off the charts sex. He showed me South Beach and what its like to have an orgasm on a pool table. He took bubble baths with me and never talked on his phone. He let me do all of the stupid shit I wanted to do (drive past Miami Ink!) and let me sleep in before attacking me in the mornings.

I remembered the reasons I had been glad that there had always been a time limit on our relationship. He has many wonderful qualitities, has never treated me badly, is unbelievably gorgeous and we obviously have a very strong physical connection, but there is something missing in what I feel for him. He bores me a little and I don't feel like jumping out of my skin with excitement when I'm sitting across from him at a table. There's a spark that's missing. A spark that I am confident that I can feel, because I feel it for someone else.

His name is Cory. I met him one night about a month ago when I walked into a bar with my friend, Betsy. He was sitting at the bar and it turns out, knows Betsy from when they lived on the same block. I ended up sitting next to him, and we talked for hours. We exchanged numbers at the end of the night and I was surprised to get a text from him the next morning. He very obviously has an incredibly poetic soul and is a true romantic at heart.

As I've gotten to know him better, I've discovered that Cory is the kind of guy you marry. Out of all the hours that we have talked at this point, he's never said anything even remotely inappropriate. It's been about truly learning about the other person. He asks me questions about my training and about how I feel about religion and the details that inevitably are so much more important than sexual compatibility.

We haven't gone on a date. We've only hung out with other friends a few times, and at the end of one of those nights, I got a kiss on the cheek that somehow managed to capture some lips in there too. Our whole exchange has been sweet and innocent. And I absolutely adore him. I think about him often and his smile makes my heart race.

Today's Title from: Street Lights by Kanye West

Labels: Cory, Mr. 11

Is my Birthday!

I'm not going to lie to you, I'm in a bad fucking mood.

Mostly because I DO NOT want to be in Ohio anymore. I was here in Cincinnati for 2 days last week and 3 days this week. I'm heading back to New York tomorrow (THANK GOD), but the weather forecast is snow, snow and more snow for tomorrow. And I have to make a connection in Philadelphia and chances look pretty damn good that I'm going to miss that connection. FANTASTIC. Luckily, the good news about Philly is that if I can't get out on a plane to New York? I can take a god damn train.

Normally I wouldn't be so crazy about getting back to New York. But I have a few good reasons.
1. After my experiences over Christmas, I can't think of anything worse than being stuck in an airport again.
2. Thursday is my birthday. I want to be home for my birthday.
3. Friday, I leave for Miami. I'm not particularly keen on ANYTHING jeopardizing that trip. Especially since I just endured unspeakable pain to get my legs waxed, which was actually a gigantic waste of time, because despite growing it out for over 2 weeks, I've got stubble. And my legs are not nearly as smooth as I would like them to be. FANTASTIC.

By the time I get back from Miami, I will have been on 14 different flights since Dec. 22. I'm gonna need some quality non-flying time before I will ever get on a plane again after this. The upside is that I've gotten very, very good at packing an overnight bag.

I usually don't make New Year's resolutions, as I'm generally not great at keeping them. But I feel like my resolutions this year are important and keep-able, so here goes.

New Year's Resolutions 2009

1. Run a half-marathon. Probably in April or May. I'd like to lose about 10-15 more pounds before beginning the hard-core training, so that may change depending on how well the weight loss goes over the next few months.

2. Go on at least 3 dates with someone before I sleep with someone NEW. This means that any new man that I meet will have to take me out at least 3 times before he gets any hanky panky.

3. French fries are my biggest weakness. I'm committing to going completely without them for the month of January in an attempt to wean myself off them.

4. Lose 30 more pounds.

5. Learn to love myself.

Originally written on Dec. 27th-


So, traveling this Christmas has been very possibly the worst experience of my life. Which is saying something, when you consider that I had a week long hospital stay within the last year of my life.

Getting from New York to Hometown was BAD. Here's the rundown.

Flight out of LaGuardia was delayed for 3 hours and as a result, I sprinted out of that plane in O'hare only to watch my connecting flight pull away from the gate. It was the last flight from Chicago to Hometown on all airlines for the night. AWESOME. I waited in the United Customer Service line for 3 hours and walked away at 1 am, with a hotel voucher, a confirmed flight from Denver to Hometown and a hope and a prayer that I could get on one of the flights from Chicago to Denver the next day in time to catch the flight to Hometown.

I spent 3 measly hours in that hotel room before I had to catch a shuttle back to O'Hare to fly standby on the first flight to Denver the next morning. That flight was delayed 2 hours, but I made it on. I got to Denver 6 hours before my confirmed flight, so I went and begged to get on an earlier flight and through the grace of God, made it onto that one also. I arrived in Hometown 26 hours after I had begun traveling. I had cried a lot and slept very little.

I spent 3 lovely days at home with my family. Then boarded a flight out of Hometown this morning to head back to New York. As I landed in Chicago (FUCKING Chicago!), I turned on my phone to find 3 voicemails letting my know that my flight from O'Hare to LaGuardia had been cancelled. That's right.

Cancelled.

I stood in that damned customer service line for 2.5 more hours. Got myself on standy on a flight to Newark, which I have subsequently been assigned a seat on and has been delayed for 2 hours due to weather in Chicago. In the meantime, my bag has probably landed at LaGuardia and is circling the baggage claim. Fan-Fucking-Tastic!!!

I'm sad as I make my way home. I'm sad because I've been talking about you. I've been referring to you as The Love of My Life, which is still true.

I looked at your picture tonight. The one of you and me on my birthday a few years ago. We are happy and smiling and I remember how ecstatic I was to have you there. My friend looks at your picture and deems you 'beautiful', and I remember being in awe of your physical perfection, but knowing that the person underneath is even more beautiful. Beautifully sweet and sensitive, with a heart of gold.

I miss your friendship and our dirty, flirty text messages. I miss being in your presence and finding silly reasons to touch each other. I miss the overhwelming need I felt to take care of you, to want to do anything in my power just to make you happy. I miss the anticipation of seeing you and what part of each experience would linger in my memory, that I would later re-live in intricate detail over and over in my mind. I don't crave the underwhelming passion of the final culmination of our 2 year trajectory. But I miss loving you and all the heartache that came with it.

Labels: Marc

So, again, I've started about hundreds of posts but haven't finished any of them. Mostly, because I don't know what to talk about.

Do I talk about my 8 mile run on Sunday? The best run of my life to date and how somewhere between mile 5 and 6, I hit the highest runners high I've ever hit? Mostly I was stunned that I was going to FINISH the 8 miles and I was pretty damn proud of myself for that. The problem is that I've been training- for a race that I was planning to run on Saturday. But the weather report for Saturday is VERY cold and snow. This is.... unsettling. I may not actually run the race, which is fine, since I "train" more for the sake of having a schedule to follow and not necessarily actually running the race. Eh. We'll see.

Do I talk about how, despite getting more and more comfortable in clothes that I never would have been comfortable in 40 pounds ago (i.e. leggings), all I see when I look in the mirror these days is FAT? My body image is terrible these days and all I want to do is work out endlessly to just stop the jiggle already. Except working out endlessly doesn't work well after a classes like the one I took on Saturday that was essentially a boot camp type of workout and I couldn't life my arms for days.

There's NO men to talk about, which is fine. I went on a bowling date, but never heard from him again after I continually refused to go home to Jersey with him. I met another guy at a club, but ended communication after he asked me, before ever even going on a date with him, if I "take it in the back door". WTF? It never fails to amaze me just how douchebaggy men truly can be.

Yeah, and that's about it. I'm in a weird place lately and really just want to be alone, a lot. If I could spend my entire life holed up in my room- I wouldn't complain. I figure its the holiday blues and other hormonal things. I'll be all right.

Today's Title from: Human by The Killers

Dear Weather,

Let's talk. Now, I don't mind cold weather too much. I recently bought myself a new winter coat that is, well, its stellar. And its a size that I haven't been since I thought that beating boys at wrestling would make them like me, which is totally awesome. So, the cold weather isn't killing me on a daily basis, especially since its been mid-40's for a while. And that's bearable. But weath, you may have noticed that I run OUTSIDE. And I have already invested in lots of cold weather gear for running. Special running gloves. A running fleece. A special running hat with a slot for my pony-tail to go through- those peeps at Nike sure do think of everything, don't they? But, you've forced my hand. I'm going to have to go buy some special running pants. Why? Because it's going to be 35 degrees tomorrow. UGH! You're killing me! That's brutal! And do you know how painful that is on my tender lungs?

Now, you might be thinking that I should stop whinging (yes, that extra 'g' in there is intentional. Its a word that I stole from a british friend and I love it. If you don't like it, you can suck it) and maybe do my 7 miles required for my training on the treadmill. To which I respond- can you think of anything more unendurable than 7 miles on a treadmill? That's about an hour and a half of the most boring activity ever created. Due to rain, I did 6 miles on the treadmill a few weeks ago and that fucker ran out of time on me! I had to start it over! It pissed me off. Plus, I've gotten to the point in my training where I'll need to start consuming gu. Yes, gu. It's an energy fuel to help keep athletes from bonking. Yes, bonking. It's a technical term, look it up. And when running for longer than an hour, bonking is a danger. Can you imagine me eating a gu on a treadmill? I'll look like a moron. Seriously.

So. Lets get one thing clear, okay? Warm the hell up. At least 10 degrees.

Thanks-
Chloe
______________________________________________________________

Post Run Update:

Well, I ran the 7 miles. Okay, I'll be honest, around mile 6, I walked about a quarter mile cause I wanted to die, but I figure I can say I RAN 7 miles when I ran about 95% of it.

And Weather, you weren't so bad WHILE I was running, all of my special gear made the experience pretty damn bearable and sometimes I was too hot and had to take my gloves off. Oh and gu? DELICIOUS! It felt like I was eating chocolate mousse mid-run, and suddenly I felt like I should be running in gold-plated shoes.

It was the weather POST-run that practically killed me. Part of the problem is that my clothes were soaking wet with sweat. And that it was BRUTALLY cold. By the time I walked in my front door, I was cold all the way to the bone. I had to take a shower so hot that it practically melted my skin off.

So, while running in 35 degree weather isn't too horrible, I'm still going to need you to warm up so I don't die of hypothermia while getting home. Thanks.

Today's Title from: Baby It's Cold Outside- by about a million different people

Hello, hello! I'm alive! I'm well! I've been busy!

For Thanksgiving, I went down to Atlanta with BFF and had one of the best trips of my life. We stayed with a friend who is like a brother to us, and we laughed constantly and danced and shopped and even drove to Savannah for a day, just to eat at Paula Deen's restaurant. TOTALLY worth it. It was a truly spectacular weekend.

I've got way more men in my life than a person should ever have. Quite frankly, I don't even know how I keep all of them straight. I have to be honest, I actually found a 'Jason' in my phone the other day and I have absolutely NO idea who it is. I'm not super crazy about any of them, which I'm all right with. It goes along fine with my new plan to just date more, instead of seeing every guy I meet as a potential boyfriend. Tomorrow is a bowling date, which I've got $50 riding on that I will kick his ass. He clearly doesn't understand that people from boring hometowns went bowling A LOT while they were growing up. Just wait until he gets a load of my wrist action. Muahahah.

In a few weeks, I go home to the bosom of my family for Christmas. My sister told me today that her adorable children have been asking her everyday if I'll be coming for Christmas. It warms me to the depths of my bitter New York heart to hear that they are so excited to see me.

Total weight loss to date: 40 pounds. I was feeling pretty content about where I was for a while there, but I just got a uploaded the pictures from Atlanta and seeing them- I'm NOT happy about where I'm at and have some renewed motivation.

But the BEST news is- I just bought a ticket. A ticket to Miami. A ticket to Miami to to see Mr. 11 for my birthday! It's 4 weeks away, so I may DIE of impatience in the meantime. But I've already got all sorts of plans for my first ever fuck-ation. 36 hours devoted almost exclusively to naked time with the hottest man I have ever met. It helps that he's texting me things like- 'I can't wait to see you.' You're jealous. You know it. Don't even try to deny it.

Today's Title from: Naked by Marques Houston

Labels: Mr. 11

It's time for Christmas music! And I need some new stuff. I want everyone to comment and tell me your favorite Christmas songs. I love, love, love Christmas music and I will even listen to artists I regularly find distasteful (except Celine Dion- she's always out, regardless of time of year).

Some of the songs on my current heavy rotation are:

All I Want for Christmas is You: Mariah Carey (early Mariah is so much more bearable than the more recent Mariah)
Miss You Most: Mariah Carey
O Holy Night: Josh Groban
Santa Baby: Eartha Kitt
It's Christmas (Baby Please Come Home): U2
Last Christmas: Wham!
White Christmas: Otis Redding
Almost anything from the Harry Connick Jr. holiday CD's
Do They Know It's Christmas: Band-Aid
Baby It's Cold Outside: Dinah Shore
My Only Wish: Britney Spears (i know!)
Christmas Song: Dave Matthews Band
Grown-Up Christmas List: Michael Buble
And anything holiday by Stevie Wonder

Thanks!!!!

Today's Title from: Christmas All Over Again by Tom Petty