physical therapy sucks.

to be clear, i really do adore my physical therapist. she's professional, yet appropriately social. she's funny and likes to make fun of guys with me. i actually feel like i'm just hanging out - for like the first 5 minutes when she's massaging my knee and getting ready to kick my ass. well, ok. that's a bit of an over-exaggeration. but i will honestly say that my knee really disapproves of all this work - the bending and stretching and extending. it's exhausting! my main motivation comes from not wanting to walk like herman munster the rest of my life (although some guy recently told me he thought my limp was "cute"... really?). and also i want to run, skip, hop and play like all the other kids. actually, i really want to play soccer again (despite the insistence by my grandmother that my injury was god's way of telling me i'm too old -- at 30?? - to be playing soccer). and i really REALLY want to live out my blue crush fantasy at the all-chic's surf camp in costa rica - a bum knee just won't work. so i suppose i gotta suck it up or i will end up on an operating table and limping around like frankenstein. i think i need an attitude shift - i think this healing crap needs to be a body AND mind thing. so from now on, i will get myself into the right mindset to be poked, prodded and twisted into recovery. i will look at pt as an opportunity, not just to rehab my limbs - but to rehab my cynical, sarcastic, sassy soul. perhaps i should meditate before my pt appointments -- practice my breathing. get zen. or do a shot of patron.

gobble gobble...

ok. my family has made me swear that i will not write about any of the events that transpired at our lovely thanksgiving feast. they each asked, for their own individual reasons, that i please, please, please not blog about such things as -- turkey place cards, my brother's new person, family friends, my grandmother's behavior, or my excessive consumption of alcohol. so i shall not. i will respect the wishes of my family -- my adoring, supportive, loving family. i won't discuss at length how my grandmother, whose normally questionable behavior and judgemental commentary usually provides fodder for hours of post-holiday dr. phil therapy sessions with me and my mom, was actually with it and conversational - almost pleasant. i certainly won't go into details about the festive martha stewart-inspired holiday decor that literally took on a life of its own in my mother's house. and i absolutely won't mention anything about how i have yet to bring home a family-worthy person of my own for a holiday, which my mother thinks is b/c i am just embarrassed by all of them (i will neither deny nor confirm that...). furthermore, i will say nothing regarding my increasing need for alcohol as the day wore on and how much more entertaining the holiday can actually be when you're four glasses of pinot grigio in (to say nothing of how amusing i can actually be when i am four glasses of pinot in...). so there. i will remain respectful of my family's wishes and keep it all to myself... until my book of witty commentary and observational humor (as well as family secrets) is finally published.

ok lemme see if i can remember how to do this... it's not even that i don't have interesting things to say. to be honest, actually, i haven't felt very interesting. and yet, i am sure interesting, amusing, entertaining, blog-worthy things have been unfolding right before my very eyes. such as the following events (it should be noted that as i was recounting this amusing tale to a friend, he reminded me that my story-telling talents should be shared with the world... and i temporarily remembered that i had an audience -- of 4 people, including my mother)...

so my new fab roommate and i had a party this past weekend, celebrating her new singledom status (long story). it was a lot of family and close friends... and some random street dudes who apparently knew someone, who knew someone, who was friend-LY with my roommate. and so, here we all are - late 20 and 30 somethings, drinking lovely cocktails, engaging in sophisticated, adult conversation - listening to very sophisticated, adult music (a potpourri of 80s and 90s alterna-, indie, jammy rock music that really just served as background noise). then, in walks these... dudes. how shall i describe them? well, they were young-GER, average guys with little to no fashion sense and apparently an over-inflated sense of musical taste. so these jerzeee boyz were drinking my booze, stuffing their faces with my gourmet food, schmoozing with my peeps and basically living it up for free. and so then the self-appointed leader of the band of guids (pronounced "gweeds") sidles up to me and says, "so, ah, is this your place? your party?" it's hard for me to say, but i am fairly certainly this was not a pick up line. i got the sense that he had an another agenda (although i was looking pretty freakin cute). so i nodded and he introduced himself -- but he was so non-descript that i could not tell 5 minutes after the conversation nor now or ever again what his name was, who he knew to be at the party, or any other details that distinguished him from other guests. i was intently focused on two things -- one, his hoop earring in the top of his right ear (so jersey, so late 90s) and two, the fact that he was actually telling me that he did not enjoy our musical selection and could he change it. so, i think a good minute or two went by before i could actually verbalize any thoughts i was having... such as "are you for real?" and "who did you say you were again?" furthermore, was this dude seriously asking me to turn off u2? he said he and his friends were more "into" hip-hop and could i appease their request? i could not help but to laugh - and while smiling and laughing, i totally and without hesitation denied his request and told him to that i wasn't a dj taking request and the musical selections would remain as is. he seemed sincerely disappointed, thanked me (????) anyway and then drunkenly ambled his way back to his ck-one smelling crew of belmar-loving white boy rap fans. but the kicker -- the best part was when he reapproached me later on in the evening (when i was little more so enjoying the free flow of cocktails). first he asked me about my job (full-time teacher, part-time pole dancer -- j/k). and then he wanted to know about living in hoboken (my hood) and things like parking and the best place to get pizza.... where was this all going, i wondered? i was intrigued. and repulsed all at the same time. and then, he says -- "so would it be cool - and you can say no - but would it be cool if my dudes and i got lit in your roommate's room? i mean we'd close the door and all." being the (former) hipster that i think i am (was, actually) - i knew exactly what he was AGAIN requesting at MY party. and again could not contain my laughter. who WAS this guy? coming into a random party where he and his posse knew exactly one person and dictating music and recreational drug use?!? i have to say, i was not NEARLY as a offended by this request as i was the music -- i mean, come ON. the cure? u2? elvis costello? bob marley? the nerve! to imply that i was not somehow meeting the standards of my audience?!? impossible! unless, of course, you are THIS GUY. and then, he seriously DID proceed to hit on me anyway. he was pretty shameless. it was a little hot, i have to say (seriously - just kidding!)

ok, so it's not a riveting story, but it was enough to make my friend (who i think mostly just humors me) to laugh. so there it is. oh, yea, and also -- i am back in physical therapy for me knee, might possibly have to have surgery and this time my physical therapist ain't being as gentle as the last time (she actually told me to suck up the pain today. masochist.).