You're never safe in Fargo, ND...

So, vacation is over, my relationship with Michael is over, and apparently, so is my good rapor with the crew scheduling guys.

I've been back to working reserve five days, and I have been stuck flying all five of those days! But I ran into my buddy Enrique and he's been on reserve all month and hasn't flown once...

Damn that island monkey!

Ok, I'm not racist, I'm just a little sad I have to go to Fargo today. Fargo is cold, and cold, and did I mention cold? Because it is very very cold. Plus, I still have to blog to you all about my fantastic vacation, meeting Heather Armstrong, and "the Break up". Did you know men don't like it when you tell them to man up on your blog? Well they don't, and I just don't give a damn!

I hope those Levees hold, I don't want to get stuck there like my baby sister was last month!

Anyways, I "should" be back tomorrow, at which time I "will" get around to posting lots of silly pictures of me and other various drunk people.


Conversation of the week...

My sister Mindy and I were drinking cocktails after a rather inappropriate boat ride where my mother proceeded to show the "old ladies gone wild" side of herself after a few too many drinks when this conversation happened...

Me: "I think mom is one drink away from doing something she will wake up in the morning and regret."

Mindy: "Or one drink away from shitting herself." (long story, but it has happened before)

At this point our drunk mother comes stumbling up to us and Mindy holds her cocktail out to her with a grin on her face and says, "Hey mom, want another drink?"


Happy birthday to me! Come on, sing along everyone...

Today is my 25Th birthday, you know what that means, right? Lower insurance premiums! So, the birthday curse has hit yet again, but I think the birthday goodness came out and kicked it's but all over the place. Things we not working as I planned, my family was giving me a migraine over everything, and I almost lost it. I came seconds away from canceling the trip and running through the streets with a machete dicing up mail boxes (isn't mental illness grand). Long story short, the BF won't be joining me in Havasu like planned, but aside from that things worked out.

And on top of it all I learned a few things. First of all, I may need to see a therapist. Second, I don't think the BF can man up when the going gets though and just enjoy it. Now I need to spend my vacation trying to decide if I have room for someone like that in my close and personal intimate life.

I'll be seeing you all in a week so I can tell you all about meeting my idol and interweb goddess Heather Armstrong of Dooce!


To call, or not to call?

In July of last year I went somewhere far away and visited that boy from my past, you know, the one I use to dream about all the time. Anyways, I won't write much about that weekend because it's something I keep very private and very close to my heart. But I will tell you this, it helped me let go. I don't know why, and I don't know how, but submerging myself in his world helped me be OK with the fact that I'm not a part of his world. Maybe it was because his world is hot and sticky and full of mean people, city of brotherly love my ass!

Anyways, I got a bit drunk some time last week and found my way to his myspace. I ended up sending him an email that I instantly regretted the second I hit send. Dude, my computer totally needs a breathalyzer on it or something. Drunk dialing is bad enough but with email they have a written account of your debauchery to hold over your head.

Jesus save my soul!

Anyways, much to my surprise, said boy responded to my email with a very prompt "Your cell isn't working, call me!"

Call him? Oh God, why? What do I have to say to him? "Hey stranger, heard you were in town a few months after I came to see you, I called while you were here, kind of felt like you went out of your way to avoid me and my calls, why? Did I do something wrong or did you just have enough of me back at your place?"

I won't lie, a small part of me does want to call him, the part of me that thinks it has something to prove. But what do I have to prove? That I can go on without him? That it's been nearly eight months since I said goodbye to him and it hasn't even phased me. Yeah I bet that's it.

So I'm sure I'll spend the end of my evening tonight doing just what I have done every evening for the last week, sitting by the phone with a cocktail in one hand, the receiver in the other, dialing the first few digits of his number, and then hanging up. The number of drinks I have consumed directly correlates to the number of digits I successfully dial before my nerves get to me. Maybe tonight I'll go for one more cocktail and finally make that call so I can stop obsessing over it. And with any luck I'll get his voicemail and leave a message that he will, no doubt, never return.

It drives me bat shit insane that I've managed to distance myself from him so well in these recent months and still he is wasting my time and running circles in my head. It's moments like these that make me wonder if I did something wrong and karma is kicking me in the ass for it, or if I'm simply paying it forward for the great things to come.

Ok, it's time for mommy to have a much needed margarita...


So, it was like three months ago that I put up a post declaring my rebirth into the blogopshere, and since then, nothing. It took the reprimands of my close loved ones to get me a little focused.

"Bad blogger, naughty blogger, now go sit in the corner with your laptop and don't turn around until you have written something witty!" my mother said as she whipped me with a newspaper.

Ok, maybe it didn't quite go like that. Truth is, I sat down two months ago to write you all about what has been going on in my life but that post got so long and list-like that I forgot what I was doing and became distracted by something shinny.

So here is what happened to me in the last few months...

Some time before December 22: I get stupid drunk and snog with Photo Mike, which leads to us becoming "Us".

December 22: Tony wrecks his dads car after picking Rose and I up from the Sports Authority where we just bought wool socks for our snowboarding trip that next day. The impact broke two bones in my face, and broke my left ring finger in about ten different places. I still have not used my new board!

December 29Th: I have surgery to put my finger back together, and spend the next week or two lying in bed popping Vicodin and watching Vin Diesel movies. The surgery forces me to miss my New Years eve in New York watching the ball drop and drinking overpriced martinis at Manhattan's trendiest.

January: I think it's wise to acquire myself a cute little urinating poop factory we call Annabell, and consequently, I fall head over heads for my little pointer mix.

February: I get a huge tax return and buy a car. I'm not any good at this driving thing so wish me luck.

March: I have more surgery to remove some of the metal placed in my finger to hold the bits in place, more vicodin follows.

April 1st: I've recovered from the accident, aside from the lack of feeling in the top left side of my mouth, or the fact that my finger only bends sixty degrees. But if you can overlook all that, I guess you could say I'm recovered.

But more importantly, it's April fools day and no one has managed to pull a prank on me yet. Granted, I am huddled here in a corner keeping close watch out the window for AJ, or any of his little minions to come sneaking along.

P.S. Has anyone seen Google's April fools prank? Autopilot gmail, I love it!

Anyways, I guess now it's time to get back to real life. I've been sitting around the last three months recovering from this accident with little no more to do than google the names of every person I know that I've gotten so accustom to a little thing called sitting on my ass. Going back to work tomorrow is going to be tough on me, and my soft ass. Want to know what the most ironic thing about this whole situation is?

Next week I start my pre scheduled vacation.