Self - Help

I was having a convo with a friend tonight about self help groups, confidence building seminars and the like and it reminded me of a seminar I went to last year. Last year wasn't the greatest year and I decided to take a self-help class - I can't remember the exact name of the class but it was about "Empowerment". Say it with me - EMPOWERMENT!

The class met for four hours one Saturday and was lead by a "self made" woman - single mom, started her own company, the whole nine yards. She had some good ideas but as I sat there I thought - shit I know all of this - I watch OPRAH for chrissakes!

Part of the class was of course to share our personal experiences. After listening to the other train wrecks in the group for four hours I was definitely feeling like a winner, these people had some serious crazy going on and there's nothing like a group of worse off disasters to make you feel like the best damn disaster EVER!!

So I vote in favor of self-help groups because you might be lucky enough to be least screwed up of the bunch and that's always good for a smile.

Hick Chicks

Time Flies

It's been just over a year since I moved to Boston - just over a year at the job, almost a year of knowing "the girls".

I just found out today that Rick Springfield is 57 years old!!!!! 57!!! I just can't quite believe it - I know we all get older (if we're lucky) but it doesn't seem possible that he's almost 60.

This post is a whole lotta nothing I know....

Subway Hell

There's a "heat wave" in Boston. It is going to get nasty hot tomorrow and it was uncomfortably hot today - but still not as hot as summer in St. Louis. As much as I find the STL heat oppressive the one thing I never had to deal with in STL was a stank filled subway filled with stanky people. We literally walked INTO an odor yesterday when boarding the T. WALKED INTO it - it was almost visible. It smelled like cooked onions - hamburger style stinky onions.

Today was yet another round of fun - I somehow made it through the hoards of pushing, sweating, stinking, Bostonians and scored a tiny plot of personal space on the train. It really wasn't all that personal though - there is literally no room to move and due to the fact that the train was so freakin' overcrowded I couldn't hold my head up straight because of all the hands reaching over my head to hold onto the bar next to me. I was the shortest person around and so I got to be right at arm pit level with a crapload of people with their arms up in the air. Love it!

To make matters worse I had a guy behind me whose backpack fit perfectly into the small of my back - forcing my back into the oh so attractive and comfortable swayback position. This pushed the top half of my body into the guy's ass in front of me. My stomach was as tall as his ass folks - and his ass was - well it was sweaty - it was warm and sweaty.

So let's recap - Booksmart has his backpack jammed into my kidneys and Miss Prada (with her pretty manicure) and Queen Granola (with her haven't washed in days manicure) and Mr. Where have those Hands Been, have their fists clenched tightly around the pole above my head which means that the only thing I can do (remember I can't lift my head up) is stare at what's in front of me, Sweaty Crack's crack.

The only thing that could have made it any better would have been if someone with their Deluxe Hummer stroller had shoved their way in, ran over my toes (manicured with Revlon Malibu Sun), slammed into my shins and let their child projectile vomit all over me - oh wait - that was Monday.

I'm fine thanks for asking - how are you all doing? :-)