Happy, happy New Year!

The new year is almost here, and it feels pregnant with promise. I'm starting a new life as well, so this may well be the most significant New Year's ever. My gut tells me it's going to be terrific, because I have the power to make it so. I have all sorts of plans -- that I WILL carry out -- and I'm grateful for all the opportunities ahead of me. I'm even more grateful for the people supporting me along the way, who will have my lifelong devotion for being here for me when I need them.

I don't usually do resolutions, but now seems to be the time. Among others, mine include:

Dance more
Worry less
Drink more champagne
Take a risk everyday
Let go of the pain

To everyone out there -- have a great New Year's Eve, and make the most of 2007.

"Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in awhile, you could miss it."

Cheers!

No need to wait

Three nights (and days) of parties and fun are all set -- in a few hours, I'll start celebrating New Year's. Why wait for the 31st? I'm too anxious to say farewell to 2006 and hello to 2007 surrounded with all my friends.

It's going to be a beautiful weekend here -- and I feel like dancing (dancing in my chair right now).

Life is good

If you must know

Okay, got tagged, so here are five things I'm pretty sure you don't know about me:

1. I was busted by the cops on the subway in Amsterdam for not paying the fare. I had to pay a 50 guilder fine.

2. I once put super glue in a guy's peanut butter. I wasn't sure if it would kill him, but I figured it would at least make him sick. He never ate it, though, so my record is clean.

3. I hate those cheesy scenes in movies when people dance around in their underwear when they're home alone to show how carefree and goofy they are. Except I do it myself all the time.

4. When I was about 10, I hated my name and tried to get people to call me Farley (like that's better?). I was a weird kid.

5. I spent $150 at Victoria's Secret and Bath & Body Works today. Hey, I'm a girl and I need a lot of girly stuff to get through the day.

PEACE

May you all have a peaceful holiday filled with love and laughter

Change of plans, pleather, and crossing one off the list

Last night was originally going to be a low-key movie night with a couple of my guy friends. We quickly changed direction, however, in search of the new. And we found it, or at least I did.

We started out in my old stomping grounds for sustenance to keep our strength up (I do eat sometimes, about once a day is good). Then we hit the road for the South End -- that mysterious land of strip malls and strippers. What I was after was some fighting -- to watch, not to participate in. But alas, we found only bad karaoke (I mean BAD), bad dancing and bad teeth. And mullets, which always brighten my day. For some reason, the South Enders were peaceful last night. Trying to be good for Santa?

Earlier in the night, I had been talking about my girlfriends and I making a collective list of experiences we wanted to have before we die. They ran the gamut from scuba diving to going to a show at The Palace to braless weekends to driving a racecar to threeways and on and on. We'd all done some of them, none of us had done all of them. The list has been sitting on my counter ever since. When I mentioned that going to a strip club was one of the items that I couldn't say I'd done, it started a long conversation. I guess that's how, after so many drinkies, we ended up in the front row. What happened there has to stay between me and the guys (yes, I make the rules), but I can now cross that off my list. I had a blast all night. Woot!

After closing the place down and staying out all night, I am about dead as a doornail.

Oh yeah -- somewhere along the line I told the story of when I went out with my husband years ago to a concert, and when we met up with the couple joining us, my girlfriend was wearing the same pants I was.

Black pleather pants. Yes, shiny, fake leather, tight black -- pleather pants. No, I do not know what I was thinking. Or, I guess I was thinking that they were hot, which they were, but more in a sweaty, sticky, suffering kind of way than an alluring way, probably. Today, I went looking for them. Couldn't remember whether I had pitched them (and half hoped that I had), but damn if I didn't find them. And the mofos fit. I've been laughing so hard, remembering myself dancing around in these things, wanting to just rip them off, they were so damned hot. Dare me to wear them on my next South End outing? I think I must.

I'm onto the plan

A cake, a pie, cookies, wine, candy, more wine, more candy. I see what people are trying to do with all these xmas gifts to me. Fatten me up. Ain't gonna happen. Don't hate me because I'm beautiful, people -- and yes, conceited. All the goodies are definitely one of the best features about this time of year, but one bite and I'm done. What I need now are gift cards to buy my new fab wardrobe (hint, hint).

My prerogative

At times, I need to get angry. Other times, I need to get furious. Then I need to punch the wall. What can I say, I've lost my mind and I'm moody as hell. I feel better now than I did a few hours ago, after spending time with people who love me and will do anything for me. It's surprising who those people turn out to be. Maybe it shouldn't be surprising at all, but again, I've lost it, so what do I know? One of the things they'll do for me is tell me how their lives are almost as fucked up as mine. I'm not taking any pleasure in that, but it does calm me...

wow, I just got a call from a friend with advice about controlling anger and a book recommendation...very appropriate...and now I must collapse. At least being pissed off all day tires me out.

Peeved, or worse

You know how when you hear people saying the same thing to you over and over, you want to rip their heads off???

I am going to take a moment to be a bitch here.

Stop asking me, "how are you?"

Stop it.

You freaking know that I'm doing terrible. You know I have better moments but in general my life is in the shitter. You know there's not much, if anything, you can do about it. Some of you are better at following through with real action and listening than others, and I do appreciate it, and I've told you so. But the off-hand, I-don't-expect-an-answer-other-than-I'm-fine questions have to stop or I am going to lose it -- and possibly beat you to a pulp.

I am trying my hardest to keep it together, but I can only take so much. If you are going to give me chocolate and keep your mouth shut, that's great. Now, you're helping me.

Otherwise, leave me alone and stop asking me that!

Thank you.

Too much worry

My mom is worried about me, but I'm worried about her. It sure gives us something to talk about. We spend quite a bit of time trying to get each other to relax, already. Too bad worry can't have any effect on her situation. She needs to have a surgery for one of the serious ailments that's been plaguing her for years. And afterwards, find out if the situation is also cancerous. On top of all that, she's terrified that she'll stop breathing during the surgery due to her severe asthma and they won't be able to help her. Almost anything could start an asthma attack, and she's completely stopped breathing and barely made it back before. And on top of THAT, the surgery keeps getting postponed because she's too anemic for it be performed. When people say that if you don't have your health, you don't have anything, they're absolutely right. She doesn't need the worry compounding her problems. The good news making the family rounds is that my brother and his wife found out that they're having a boy and everything is going as it should. That could just be the thought that keeps my mom going -- she's been so anxious for a grandchild for so long and it looks like she'll get one bouncing baby boy very soon. She better be here to hold him, damn it. If I get anything for Christmas, that's what I want.

Pages

I have 98 books on my "to read" shelf. Does this strike anyone else as ridiculous? Some have been waiting there for years. Some are half-read, completely forgotten, so I'll need to start at the beginning again. At some point, I just had to have each of them, except the ones that were gifts, and then I laid them aside for other, probably lesser, pursuits. The longest is 1493 pages. The shortest is 95. I feel I owe it to each of them to take them in. I better get to work. Good thing I don't sleep anymore.

555-SEXY

Okay, you who wanted more details, here's part of what I've recently learned. It has to do with answering the question, "who you gonna call?"

T: Okay, let's say it's late on a Saturday night, and you've been out with friends, but things are winding down. You're thinking you're gonna call someone to come over and play.

Me: I'm picturing it....okay, got it.

T: And let's say that you have two prospects. Jason is an old boyfriend from ages ago, and Claudio is a coworker that you've hooked up with a couple of times, but that's all. You are not emotionally invested with either of them, so they do not have the capacity to hurt you. This is key. Don't forget it.

Me: I won't. Which one's hotter?

T: Claudio is way hotter. Dark eyes, lashes and hair, great body.

I'll call him.

Not so fast. Claudio is hot, but he's short and not at all well-endowed. He's too small. Jason, on the other hand, swings a big unit and knows how to use it.

Hmm. He's a good lover?

Yes, very aggressive. The only thing is that he's so tall -- 6'4" -- and skinny that he'll bruise the hell out of you with his hipbones.

Oooooooh. I'll call Jason.

Maybe...but think about this. Jason's not much of a giver. Claudio, however, has mastered the oral arts and loves it. Very determined.

Damn, this is getting complicated. Now I want to call Claudio right away.

I know, but you also have to think about the fact that Claudio is going to be plowed on Saturday night, and he's gonna come over, but he's gonna have whiskey dick. He'll make up for it with his other skills, but he won't be able to keep it up and you may end up giving him a 40-minute BJ, because you're goal-oriented, and then you'll spend the next day with swollen lips that merit having a picture taken, like I did that one time, remember?

You told me that was from making out too long!!!

I lied.

You bitch. Does Jason drink?

No, he doesn't. He'll be sober and ready to go.

Excellent. So, I'll call Jason and invite him over.

And...

And a few days later, during the week, I'll call Claudio and let him give me what he's good for.

Good girl.

A lot to learn

Yesterday, I met up with an old friend I haven't seen in far too long. Isn't it the best when you can pick up where you left off without missing a beat? We always had the best time together; he's a truly great guy and we had a lot of laughs while catching up on everything and everyone. And he gave me some male insight on what's been going on with me. A guy who actually has insights -- go figure.

Later, I got together with a couple of my girls to drink champagne and get schooled. My head is still spinning from both. I haven't been single for 20 years, so I have catching up to do there, too. It was hilarious and scary at the same time. They filled me in on where and when to go for a young piece, where and when to look for a more mature, perhaps decent longer-term thing, setting up a stable of booty calls (and the criteria for who you call first), how to effectively shoot down the unwanted pick-up attempts, wingmen and wingwomen, all about rebounds, and on and on. These girls are smart -- and experienced. I filled them in on a couple of possible developments and they said I'm going to be just fine. We'll see, we'll see.

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times

I was at a party last night, and a friend said, "I know you're going to do something fabulous now, and I can't wait to find out what it is."

It's true. I am.

Things always work out for me. Even knowing that, I still can't completely let go of my glass-half-empty stance, and I worry for a bit, but part of me knows that better times are around the corner. I've been hesitant about telling people about the change* that's going to create so much more change in my life. But 99 percent of the people I've told have been so supportive, it's getting easier every time. One of the silver linings of hard times is that you find out who your true friends are. I know I can do anything with them behind me. Even those who don't know me all that well have come through with the most heartfelt thoughts -- and interesting invitations. I never would have received them if I weren't where I am now. So, I'm saying yes to all of them. To all these opportunities for new experiences and for meeting new people and going places I've never been before and expanding my life. How can I not?



*[I'm getting divorced.]

Only me

Leave it to me to have a body that Ambien doesn't work on. Seems like half the world is getting all this fabulous sleep with the little pills, and they don't do anything at all for me. Tylenol PM does more and it's a heck of a lot cheaper. What a waste of money. Maybe I should just have someone konk me on the head with a brick. That might do the trick for a few hours.

Go, baby, go

I was driving through Butchertown, outside downtown, on my way to work this morning. It's snowing, so I was simultaneously trying to watch the flakes hitting the windshield and melt, and watch the road. The car in front of me suddenly slowed way down, but I couldn't see any reason for it. "What is this goofball doing," I thought, and pulled into the other lane to pass.

I looked over to see what the problem was.

What I saw: A fat pig, running down the center of the lane, with a big piggy smile on its face. Yes, I'm talking about a real, pink pig, with a curly tail. I guess he didn't know the right lane is for slower traffic. I slowed down to watch him -- he was making his move for freedom and doing a pretty darned good job of it. I was laughing like a maniac all the way on down the road. I looked in the rearview mirror to see him turn off onto a side street.

I hope he's enjoying his adventure. I'm still laughing. Thanks, pig.

Not buying it

When I was visiting my grandmother awhile back, she said, "I hope this won't offend you," which of course means I'm about to be offended. Then she launched into god talk. She's always been religious, and she's always been worried to death that I and my brother are heathens (and going to hell, of course). But I listened to her describe how her faith had helped her through difficult times because I knew how important it was to her and that she was worried about me. "If you invite HIM in, HE will come." Hmmmm. That sentence kind of cycled through my head as she went on and on. What a simple, simplistic idea. But I don't like simple, I like complexity. She even handed me a Max Lucado book, "Next Door Savior." I just picked it up, thinking I should mail it back to her, because I'll never read it. I flipped through -- apparently god loves losers and you can give him all your heartache, worry and struggles. Now that would really be something: Could I tell him that I'm a loser? That in the last few weeks I've lost the people in my life that I cared about and needed the most, that I'm aching, worrying and struggling? And then I'll be hunky dory? I know the desperate, scared (and imprisoned) are big recruiting grounds for god, but I guess I've never been that desperate because it never made sense to me before and it doesn't now. It would be lovely if life were that simple, but it's simply not.

I'm old

Going out to celebrate Pinkie T's 30th seemed like a good idea, but it was filled with too many reminders that I AM OLD. When your 25-30 year old girlfriends keep complaining about how old they are, that hurts. And going along after dinner to the club, with the rap music that I am not at all familiar with and all those kids ... I'm probably their mothers' age. Jesus. So I hung in to the final three of a much larger group. I was out til 4 a.m. I'm a rock star, right? Except I was useless all Sunday recovering. OLD.

At least the people watching was excellent. K-Fed may get a ribbing in the press, but apparently all the kids want to dress and style (if that is the right word) their facial hair like him. I tried not to smirk directly in their direction because I'm so polite. And for the final three of us, there were two booty calls -- not bad numbers. Okay, okay, they were both for the birthday girl. Now, that's turning 30 with a bang.

Advice (good and bad) I've received in the last few days

Have another drink
Dye your hair a lighter brown
Eat more
Exercise more
Wear a super-hot outfit
Take your time
No men for 60 days
Don't isolate yourself
Take it one day at a time
Don't get upset when I tell you this
Get a boob reduction