Facebook is Fun

I miss Old New York. 

Well - my Old New York.  Before Facebook.  Before Twitter.  When hipsters didn't really have a name - they were just hip (pun intended kind of).  People didn't really sit around blogging or vlogging about the world and the things we did we just did.  We didn't have to update our status from our phones.  I'm pretty sure most of our phones didn't have that option. 

OK this was all of, like, 5 years ago.  But still...

The other day the Boy said something about me being his "future wife".  And, as in Stephanie fashion - before I could think I said "Oh God".  Sometimes my frontal lobes stall for a second.  Of course he was a little - uh - taken aback. 

I didn't mean it like "Oh God I'm marrying you".  More like "Oh God I'm getting married"!  Me.  The same girl who, for the greater part of a year, spent convincing close friends and family that there are actually benefits to the idea of a life of singledom.  I'm 28 youngish.  I think of married like I do of taxes and owning property - old people do that stuff.  I'm still trying to figure out how I can skip things like Jury Duty and dusting and I am supposed to be a grown up who picks out China patterns?? * For the record - we are NOT registering for stupid crap like China and the like.  I'm currently trying to figure out how to convince him that we SHOULD register for things like shoes, boots and handbags.  I'll let ya know how that goes.

I'm not that responsible.  Yes - at work I keep people from dying and make sure to chart their vital signs at reasonable times.  But that's just my job.  At home, sometimes I forget to take my make-up off.  SOMETIMES I wear the same socks 2 days in a row.  Maybe t.m.i but you get my drift.

Anyway, all of this deep "what am I doing with my life" thinking prompted me to stalk old friends on Facebook.  Because that can either make me feel really good about myself or really really bad.

In this case - both. 

Let's start with the good - obviously there are the girls from high school on Facebook who like to post the "I'm so drunk everynight" photos.  Those make me feel GOOD.  Good because my friends love me enough to keep THOSE photos OFF of Facebook (thank you Diana).  Also anyone who has gained a significant amount of weight/talks about their cats/has like 5 kids - all make me feel GOOD.

THEN there are the overachievers.  The kids in class - who by grade 3 - knew they were going to climb the Ivy Towers and be all smart and shit.  You can tell these people by their very cerebral, usually politically driven status updates.  They make my updates about the Starbucks man seem childish in comparison.  (But he is SO nice - he noticed my haicut and he ALWAYS remembers how I like my coffee).  Besides, I'm sorry if I don't think Facebook is the place to take political stands.  I'm like the Swiss.  I like neutral grounds. 

Anyway, those  smartasses make me feel BAD.  Their smug "Law School Graduation" photo albums - make me sick.  I knew them when they still picked their noses.  I bet their law school buddies would love to see those pictures - 80's hair, scrunchie socks and fingers just digging away.  In fact - said Law School Graduate Girl used to eat her boogers during assembly.  So THERE!!

Last but not least - there are the wildcards.  The kids you thought would end up either social outcasts or institutionalized for the rest of their lives but they do something crazy like go to school for Astronomy or marry one of the prettiest girls in class.  Or PROCREATE.  One such example is the ADD kid who used to sell me his Ritalin in the 8th grade.  He was sent to the principal's office repeatedly for things such as: masturbation in the boys room or drug deals in homeroom.  He is now married with child. 
Crazy.

Anyway, I am not really sure where I was going with this - but Facebook is kind of fun. 

Babies aren't always bundles of joy...

I am going to preface this by saying - I don't wish ill on babies.  In a perfect world - all babies would be home snuggling with their mom and dads.  Healthy.

Unfortunately, some babies aren't always that healthy.  Some babies end up in the Neonatal ICU.  Some of them end up at the very Neonatal ICU at the very hospital in which I work as a pediatric float nurse.  And when these babies end up in that Neonatal ICU as my patients I prefer them to be heavily sedated.  Because non-sedated babies cry all night.  They require feedings and they require me to stick their little feet for blood (which is never fun for either parties) and they require diaper changes round the clock.  Some of them, I truly believe are spiteful little creatures.

Some people would think playing with babies all day would be an ideal job.  Some people.  I was one of those people.  Which is why I left my crazy, hectic, busy job in the ER (where I saw many a trauma, homeless person, neighborhood crazy what have you) because I thought babies were calmer.  I wanted to work in an ICU - a controlled setting where they are all neat and cozy on their bed.  Hooked up to monitors and not peeing in the garbage cans.

So I left.

I can't say I regret the move completely.  I outgrew the ER.  I stopped learning.  And when I work in the ICU, I do learn a lot more.  But the nights that I get the "non-sick" babies - I can't help but feel like a glorified, overpaid, baby feeder.  Plus I got breast milk on my scrubs.  Which is gross.

Anyway, I will end this by saying - I don't wish babies to be sick, but if they must be sick, then I would rather THEM be my patients.  Because there is nothing cuter than a sleeping, WELL SEDATED bundle of premature adorableness.  It also helps when they don't have overbearing parents who visit all the time.  I'm just saying.

On that note, I must head out to work now.

How many more seasons do you have in you ABC??

Dear "Bachelor" Producers,

Kudos to you guys.  Not only have you managed to find the stupidest women in America, you've managed to keep them all out of that nasty little "over 30" age bracket.  Oh - and the RV idea?  How very "Rock of Love" of you.  I thoroughly enjoy watching dip-shit 23 year-olds teeter around in Christian Louboutin heels on a CAMPGROUND!!!  Thank you.  A special thank you to the girl from New York - the swimsuit model with the so obviously Resatylane enhanced lips and the over-exaggerated Long Island accent who, by the way, looks suspiciously closer to 35 than she is to 25.  She makes all New York women shine by example.  No wonder the rest of the country thinks less of us.  She didn't even know how to start a FIRE.  Hello???  Cavemen were able to figure out that if you rub 2 sticks together, something might spark up.  I'm sure those fancy pants producers of the show were able to provide lighter fluid for you.  Did a chef make those s'mores?

To the women pining for this man, whom you met a mere month ago; I really admire how you all managed to muster the tears and shock for the women who are lucky enough to get the boot.  Are you all that stupid or are you just really really good actors?  Newsflash - these women are your COMPETITION.  Do you think David Beckham cries a little inside when the other team loses a game? 


And last but not least - Jake.  I am slow clapping for you man.  The tears, the drama.  Having 8 typically and conventionally (and kind of in a boring way) beautiful women are "falling in love with you" and you act as though you have been given the job of bringing peace to the world.  Is the choice that hard?  Seriously - at least 3 of them all kind of look the same and I'm sure you have trouble keeping their names straight.  Most of them are in marketing (a very vague and broad term synonymous with "expendable job at which I will leave as soon as I make the cover of People").  Does it really matter in the end?  No.  


Anyway, a sincere thank you to the producers, the staff and all of you who make my Monday night so much more exciting.  Because nothing beats making fun of hot messes and watching grown women act like sorority girls.


Love,


Stephanie 

Sundays...

Sundays always have a way of sneaking up on me.  For some reason, ever since I was little, I've hated Sundays.  Even now, though I don't have a normal 9-5, Monday- Friday job, Sundays, if not handled right, can be awful.  Unless they are rainy Sundays.  Rainy Sundays are like a free pass to wear sweats and watch bad TV.

This morning was a rainy Sunday.  I woke up ready to break all my plans and watch some bad TV and maybe cook dinner.  I was expecting the Boy to go visit his friends in Long Island for some football and I was really looking forward to a day alone.  Like when I used to live by myself.  It's nice to be alone sometimes.  Especially when you know someone will eventually come home.
  

Rather than bore you (and myself) recapping details, basically the gist is - he wishes I cared about football and I wish he could be happy with the fact that we have different interests.  He starts naming all the girls that love football, I point out that most of the time girls only love the social aspect of football (I'd be down for going to a bar, ordering some wings and some cherry wheat beer - NOT for sitting at his friends' house with not much else to distract myself - we NEVER go to the bar to eat wings and watch football).

He denies the fact that girls only like football for the social fun of it all.

Anyway, I do not expect him to love Gossip Girl or Sex and the City.  Nor do I think it's the end of us or that "we aren't on the same page" when we don't share those interests.  He acts like it's dooming to our relationship if we can't love football together.  It's so frustrating.  I can't change.  I can't act like I care.  The first thing I was told as a little girl was to never fake who you are for a guy.  I'm being true to myself and wind up feeling like I'm in the wrong.  Like I'm not living up to his standards.  Which is bullshit, of course.  

Anyway, he left and I suppose things were good.  I told him I'd make dinner and I settled in for a nice afternoon of nails, TV and the couch.  When his beloved team lost (yes - I checked the score so I could at least be in the know) I texted him that I was sorry for his loss and that I would make a nice dinner to cheer him up.  He responds with "I already ate.  Let's make it a late dinner"!

WTF?

Seriously, sometimes when my hormones are all over the place (and they are), I will be the first to admit that I get pretty angry at irrational things.  But what part of "I'll make you dinner" made him think it would be a good idea to already eat?

This is the kind of stupid shit men and women have been fighting about for ages.  I hate to be part of that cliche.  

Stay-Cation/Vacation

There's nothing like an 11 day long STAY-cation to bring out the anxiety in me.  I had big plans for this week.  Mostly to start planning our wedding - which is - according to the "Plan My Wedding" iPhone app - only 8 months and 8 days away!!!  What???  I keep thinking I have like 10 months at least.

So yesterday, in an effort to be proactive we did go to the church.  We had high hopes of meeting with a priest, getting our day approved and setting up all those classes thingies (pre-canter?).  It would have been a huge achievement in our wedding planning.  Instead we were met with a very unfriendly Church Lady (she had the hair and distasteful look on her face down to a T) who made us fill out some form and told us "The priest will be getting in touch with you".

Very anti-climatic.  I mean - it wasn't like we were interviewing for a job.

Anyway, that was the extent of our wedding planning.  Yet, whenever anyone asked me what I was going to do with a whole 11 days off - my stock answer was "Plan my wedding".  I failed to mention that I would also be going out and drinking heavily, getting hungover, having multiple birthday celebrations in my honor, catching up on reality TV and buying a magazine holder for our bathroom.

Now, with only 4 days left (out of those 11), I must come up with exciting ways to spend them.  I am starting with cleaning the house.

Boring Crap

I feel so uninspired lately.  Maybe it's reality TV.  Maybe it's my recent birthday.  Or the movie High Fidelity.  Maybe I should blame John Cusack for the rut I'm in.  He's like the king of the uninspired.  I blame him.  It would be a lot easier than looking inward.  


I'm 28.  I live in NYC.  Which some would consider to be a pretty inspiring city.  I'm jaded.


In the past year I've - moved in with my boyfriend, left my old city apartment, changed my job TWICE, changed my haircolor 3 times, got engaged, thought about changing my job again, met new friends, lost old friends... basically I did a lot of things.  And yet, I feel so UNDER-achieved.  


I know I have something in me to write about.  It's what I do.  But maybe I need to write a lot of crap before the good stuff can be unleashed.  


I have this theory that we may have a carbon dioxide leak in my apartment.  Obviously it must be a very slooooow leak because we aren't even close to dead yet.  But it's enough of a leak to make us completely lazy and couch bound.  Which I have been for the past few days.  Even my dog is moping around the apartment like she's Hamlet or something and she has the weight of Denmark on her shoulders.  Lately, it has been a lazy household, let me tell you.  The thing is, we wouldn't even know if there was a carbon dioxide leak because I pulled the detector out of the ceiling a few weeks ago during a cooking mishap.   


OK, I must go now.  The Millionaire Matchmaker is on.


Stay tuned.  It gets better.