Lying in bed, just like Brian Wilson did

"So I'm lying here, just staring at the ceiling tiles, And I'm thinking about, Oh what to think about."

Oh, Barenaked Ladies, I still love thee!

I am feeling like a recluse, a little Brian Wilson-esque if you will, since my self-imposed isolation started Friday afternoon. During my bout of bronchitis I've made several attempts to do "normal" things. For example, on Saturday I attempted to mow the front lawn. I live in the city, my front lawn is tiny. The lawn mower won that round. I barely finished and was drenched in sweat afterward (and it was only like 76 degrees out). You would think I would have learned a lesson but no. On Sunday, once again feeling very Brian Wilson-esque (meaning like a fat ass) I decided I would attempt to run two miles. What a joke. At the one mile mark I nearly passed out and had to walk the rest of the way home.

So today I decided I would really take care of myself.

After waking up and taking my temperature and realizing I still had a fever, I decided I would work from home. When it came time for my morning medications, I made a big mistake. I ran out of name brand Mucinex yesterday and moved on to the leftovers of a generic version from the last time I had bronchitis. In my feverish haze, thinking generic Mucinex is a "lesser" Mucinex, I popped two of them and thought nothing of it.

Until about 20 minutes later.

When I felt like I was going to vomit. And then I felt stoned. And then I felt like vomiting again.

During my Mucinex high I decided to drive to Walgreen's (horrible idea) to buy a Coke to settle my stomach and orange juice because I had polished off an entire carton of OJ this weekend.

Thankfully I managed to drive to Walgreen's and back without incident (that I can remember anyway) but upon my return got to deal with my very "special" next door neighbors.

In previous blog posts I've referred to them as Cranky Old Man and Crabby Old Woman. They watch me like teenage boys watch anything featuring Megan Fox.

Cranky Old Man was mowing his lawn when I returned from Walgreen's. I used the "avoid eye contact" technique as a scurried in the house. However, I could feel him staring me down as I ran in - making efforts to cough extra loud in the hopes he would get that I am sick.

Pathetic, yes. But here's the deal. I took a week off work around Memorial Day. Then, after two days back to work I got sick. Cranky and Crabby are old school, and believe people have to go to an office (or factory or who knows what) and work from 9-5 to "work." I have a laptop and a cell phone - I can pretty much work anywhere. Not to mention the fact I travel a lot for work and work weekends several times per year, so there are plenty of times I am home on a random Tuesday or Wednesday to make up for it. One time I was home on a random week day and he stopped me and said, "Don't you work?"

On week days when I am home sick, working from home or on a "staycation" I feel like a prisoner in my own home because they are watching, wondering and judging.

Why do I care what Cranky and Crabby think about me? I can't answer that.

All I know is that after five days of hiding away like Brian Wilson, I am ready to return to the land of the living, and away from the prying eyes of Cranky and Crabby!

Sick...and not as in "That Lady GaGa concert was totally sick" either; or, I have reached an all time low

I love that line. A co-worker who is at least  three years older than me (meaning mid 30s) said something to that effect, referring to Lady GaGa as "sick" and for a moment I was taken aback. I thought, "Is Lady GaGa ill?" Then I realized this co-worker was trying to be like those hipster kids by using their newfangled terminology.

Anyway, I am the other kind of sick. As in "ill." Bronchitis to be exact.

You know when it sucks to live alone? When you're sick. In other words, living alone is not sick (cool) when you're sick.

Seriously, tonight I have hit an all time low and I am not afraid to share it with you. I am laying in my bed, drinking orange juice, popping antibiotics, using two inhalers and sharing said bed with two cats and a dog while watching QVC.

Yes, you read that correctly. QVC.

I am feeling less than fabulous right now.

In QVC's defense, I do occasionally purchase Philosophy and Bare Escentuals from QVC because their prices on these things are much better than in stores or on the company web sites. So sue me. At least it's not the Home Shopping Network. I feel the Home Shopping Network is the Wal-Mart of television shopping. QVC is, on the other hand, the Macy's.

However, in bed at 8 p.m. on a Friday night with pets watching QVC? I feel like I have crossed a line that can never be uncrossed.

Off to make some night time TheraFlu and put myself out of my misery. At least for tonight.

TheraFlu? That stuff is totally sick!

The second to last single girl

How could I forget about "Wiggy?"

I received a BlackBerry message from her last night that said, "We'll be the last single girls together. You know me I'm a Samantha to the core. I just want a ring with diamonds and not a diamond ring!"

Then she went on to say how a guy just sent her some flowers and chocolate covered strawberries (her fave). "Wiggy" always has men chasing her down - she loves being chased but I pity the fool who thinks he is going to catch her. Anyway she went on to say, in regard to the strawberries, "I wolfed those things down like my last meal. I am such a freakin pig."

Bless you, "Wiggy" - you are the best!

The last single girl (and why parents shouldn't be given access to technology)

It's official.

I am the last single girl.

At least the last single girl in the 30-35 age bracket. In my city. Possibly in the state.

At least it feels that way.

Lately in my group of friends (including some former friends who are former friends because they dumped their girlfriends for boyfriends) there has been a rash of serious relationships, engagements and weddings. I am thrilled for all of these people, but it leaves the perpetually single girl (me) feeling...well, more single than ever.

What really drove home my feeling "more single" than normal was when I came home from a Memorial Day weekend visit with my parents (nothing like being the fifth wheel for my mom and dad and sister and her husband!) to find the electricity out on my block due to thunderstorms. All the neighbors on the block were hanging out on their respective porches - husbands and wives, parents and children, roommates....and Jen (me). Just Jen.

I couldn't talk on the phone because I only have a cell and worried about how long the battery would stay charged. Well, I take that back. I called my mom to ask her to look up the number for my electric company "on the computer" (huge mistake) and after 20 minutes of trying to explain how to Google search after she couldn't comprehend that the web address started with a "www" and not a "ww" I gave up. At that point, the battery on my crappy cell phone was too drained to make too many other calls.

So there I sat, just me. Eventually, I got smart and ran to the store to buy ice and some cold beer. Upon my return home I busted out one of my summer reading books and the battery operated iPod speakers I had just purchased a few weeks ago. As I sat there sipping my cold drinks, listening an all 80s playlist and reading a hilarious memoir I thought, "Ha, ha suckers, you may have company but I have cold beer on this hot summer afternoon! Take that!" And no, I did not buy a 40 (which is what most people in my neighborhood drink on their porches...or, hell, while walking/driving down the road).

Hours later, the electricity came back on and I resumed life as normal. And that afternoon I realized a couple of things:

First, I really love electricity. I mean it. I should become a fan (or "Like") electricity on Facebook. My dad/teachers in school always liked to say, "Back in the day when they didn't have electricity....blah, blah, blah..." (meaning our collective ancestors, not them personally, I am not THAT old!). Hell to the no. If I lived "back in the day" before conveniences like electricity and, even more so, indoor plumbing, I would have died. I never would have made it to see my 30s, I just know it.

Second, even if I really turn out to be the last single girl in my neigborhood, group of friends or (gulp) city, I will be ok as long as I have a few other conveniences like my iPod and cocktails!

The Spice Girls said it best..."Goodbye, my friend"

Today we packed up "Wiggy" and moved her to her new home in a new town. She got a big promotion a couple of months ago and finally made her move. While the promotion is much-deserved and we're all happy for her, it's definitely bittersweet. As we packed boxes marked "lace-front wigs," "underwear," and "sex toys" into the U-Haul, I recalled the last time we helped her move, which was only a few months ago when she escaped living in the duplex from hell and next door Jesus freaks.

Oh, "Wiggy," life here just won't be the same without her! While she is only about an hour away, it's not going to be so easy to just meet up for after work cocktails or hit the mall so she can try on House of Dereon outfits that should never have been made in plus sizes.

On "Wiggy's" last night in town, we hit the Sex and the City 2 pre-party and premier. It was fabulous. The film is, by no means, a cinematic masterpiece but we didn't care! My group of four gal pals got caught up with our four favorite fictitious gal pals and cocktails were involved.

What an appropriate way to end "Wiggy's" time here. I mean, she's most definitely the Samantha of our group, but more than that, it got me thinking about how important friendships are, especially for single women in their 30s. Let's face it, by our age mostly everyone else has paired up and procreated. Each year our numbers dwindle as friends are picked off one by one and venture into marriage and motherhood. Those of us left behind form close friendships because in our urban jungles we're all one another has. We love our lives and wouldn't trade them for the world, but it's important to have friends around who relate to what it's like to be single...and, of course, who are free to go out and shop, drink or hit a movie with you at any time!

This certainly won't be the end of my friendship with "Wiggy" but in many ways it's an end of an era.

By the way, for those who were wondering, we found no evidence that a mouse had ever inhabited "Wiggy's" home after we packed her up today. Confirming what I eventually came to believe...that the "slut mouse" and a bottle cap were one and the same!

From one surly ex-sorority girl to another....

Things have been crazy lately! A ridiculous amount of work travel in a short amount of time has kicked my butt, resulting in contracting a cold that is hanging on tighter than Joan Rivers' last facelift. I ran my second 5k with remnants of said cold, pleased my time improved from the first 5k, despite the fact I was stuck behind tons of people who felt it was appropriate to walk across the start line. (Don't worry, I wrote some strongly worded comments about those ridiculous gangs of walkers in my post -event survey). Now, just as my body is starting to catch up (and as I narrow my work email down to 60 unread emails from 600+), I am about to beat it down again by participating in the American Cancer Society Relay For Life. It's a 24 hour event to raise funds for ACS and my friends and I will be camped out and walking for the duration. Yeah, for one fighting off any sort of cold/virus this is not the best idea but neither is eating two (maybe three?) cupcakes in the course of one day when one is dieting but yeah, I did that this week too. And last week in NYC  come to think of it (I heart Magnolia Bakery). Shoot. No wonder I am not losing weight despite all this running! Anyway....

Despite my hectic schedule I took a day off work to travel across the state to meet my favorite writer. I am an avid reader, someone who reads two to three books at a time. I like biographies, historical fiction and memoirs. A few years ago, a friend told me I needed to read a memoir called "Bright Lights, Big Ass" by Jen Lancaster. The first page of that book is a (hilarious) letter from Jen Lancaster to Carrie Bradshaw...the rest, as they say, is history.

I know I've referenced her here before (many, many times). She really is my favorite writer, in part because I feel like we are kindred spirits....as I told some friends last night, we both love pearls, we were both sort of tyrants when put in leadership positions in our respective sororities, we both aspired to be Blair from "Facts of Life" as children and both love watching Blair and the gang from "Gossip Girl" now, etc. I could go on (and on) but I don't want to bore you.

Jen treated us to a reading and Q and A before the book signing. It was better than I had expected and thankfully, Jen was exactly how I hoped she would be - funny, engaging and during the book signing she took time to talk to each person individually and take photos, despite the fact that over 300 people were lined up to meet her.

Though Jen's knowledge of reality TV vastly outweighs mine (I limit my reality TV to "American Idol" auditions and "Celebrity Rehab/Sober House" on VH1 because I generally have great disdain for all those ridiculous shows...unless they involve celebrities fighting addicition hence "Celebrity Rehab/Sober House" and Paula Abdul's days on "American Idol"), and sometimes I didn't know who she was talking about when she would throw out a name (a "Real Housewife?", a "Next Top Model?", someone from "The Hills" if that's even still on?), I still heart her and was thrilled to "have a moment" with her!

P.S. In honor of Jen's new book about her efforts to break her addiction from reality TV (see, I love addiction stories so I will love this book), I looked up my Jersey Shore nickname. It's The Tan-trum. I am pretty sure my mom would wholeheartedly agree with that one!

Death at 30,000 feet

It was a self-fulfilling prophecy. You know, that mumbo-jumbo about travel trauma.

I love flying. In fact, I would prefer to fly anywhere and everywhere than ride in a car. Hop a jet to Detroit (a 3 hour drive)? Don't mind if I do! I feel much safer on a plane than in a car. After all, I've been in several car accidents over the years but despite my hundreds of thousands of air miles traveled, I've never been in a plane "accident." Yes, I know those are usually called plane "crashes" but I haven't been in one so there.

Last week I flew to Salt Lake City on a business trip. I knew there had been a lot of storms in that part of the country so I anticipated some turbulence. Generally, turbulence doesn't bother me. As I mentioned earlier, I completely believe I am safe on a plane so a few bumps are nothing to worry about.

There's turbulence and then there's TURBULENCE. I am talking, shaking back and forth, dropping what feels like thousands of feet at a time, the flight attendant says, "For those of you getting sick, remember the bag in your seat back pocket. To avoid nausea, do not look out the window and put your neck to your chest" type of turbulence.

Yes, a flight attendant said that and no, I have NEVER been on a flight where an announcement like that was made.

Sitting next to me were some way cool ladies from Elmira, NY. They are bowlers, flying to Reno for a bowling convention (and some gambling, of course) then on to El Paso for a bowling tournament.

One of them asked the nun across from us (yes, there was a nun on the plane, as well as at least four babies - yet another sign that plane would not make any unplanned contact with terra firma) to pray once the turbulence started.

The turbulence was rough, but I lost it when, during descent into Salt Lake City, the pilot suddenly pulled the plane up. In seconds we went from rapid descent to rapid ascent - and suddenly I was praying "Hail Mary" - repeatedly. When the pilot came on and told us he had to "abort" the landing because of a sudden storm over the airport I prayed faster!

The storm passed and we eventually landed safely. I was literally shaking all the way to baggage claim, in the cab and during check in at the hotel.

All is well that ends well, thankfully!

Salt Lake City is beautiful - it's surrounded by snow capped mountains, it is clean and safe and though at one point I was the only woman in a six block radius wearing jeans (as every woman I saw was a Mormon wearing a skirt), the people are very friendly. However, after a couple of days, Salt Lake City got pretty boring and I was ready to move on.

Tomorrow it's off to New York City - with it's grit, skyscrapers, traffic, noise, congestion and people who are not friendly - I believe it is the most beautiful city in the U.S. if not the entire world...and a couple of days is never enough to take it all in. I can't wait to get there!