I haven't gotten very far in the list. Thank goodness I had no deadline.
Here are the details:
1. Learn to Surf: Not done. There are many obstacles to getting this done (No waves, no surfboard, no skilled handsome surfing teacher). However, Liz and I may or may not be going to Costa Rica sometime soon so then I will learn how to surf.
2. Grow a plant before killing it. This one I am happy to report is complete. I did indeed grow plants. Then I killed them. Yup, I killed the plants. But at least they sprouted this time versus times 0 and negative 1. So number 2, done. No overachieving required, my days of an apartment gardener are currently suspended.
3. Learn to play electric guitar and/or drums. Ha. Ha ha ha ha. Yeah, not even started.
4. Learn to draw again (and keep drawing). I haven't kept drawing, but I am going to draw some more tomorrow. Maybe. Hopefully. Probably not.
5. Go one month without buying shoes. Complete! I haven't bought shoes in ages. Aces. (I tried to buy shoes today with no avail).
6. Experiment with sugar art. Still looking for silicone gloves. Once I have those I will be golden and the sugar art experimentation will be under way. Also, right now our kitchen is otherwise occupied with Lauren's wedding cake preparations.
7. Write something and get it published somewhere. I am going to pat myself on the back for this one. Yes, I did indeed get a freelance job to write an article for an online magazine. It is an unpaid gig but it is for real editors (not fake ones) so I think this can count for number 7 once I do it. Smartly, they are not giving me a deadline so I haven't started yet. I have been busy, what can I say. I have to call one of the editors tomorrow to discuss details. Consider this one a work in progress.
8. Run a 5k in less than 30 minutes. After work tomorrow I am going to go for a run. We will see how that goes.
9. Get crafty and profit from it. I have an Etsy website with nothing on it. I am going to start making stuff soon, then I will share the website with you and hopefully all of you will buy something. Or better, you can all just pay me money and I will say it is because I am crafty. What- you want something in exchange for your money? No that's not how this works. We will call it a crafty tax that you are required to pay me because I am crafty. Right.
Completed items on the to-do list: 2, 5, and half of 4. I think I am doing well, considering. (Considering what, I am sure I don't know).
Sunday 23 September 2007
Saturday 22 September 2007
Jenns
Today I made the mistake of going shopping for some new fall clothes. I wanted a new pair of jeans because I realized I have 3 pairs that I wear and 2 of those were actually really ratty and at any moment could become not wearable and then what would I do on casual Fridays?
So, I went to my normal stores and all of the short/ankle length jeans just seemed a lot longer than normal. Like, so long that when I stood on my tippy toes I still had at least 2 inches that were dragging on the ground. Yes, I know I can get things tailored, but I always feel that once jeans get hemmed they lose a little something. I mean, anyone can tell that they have been tailored, plus the proportions are all wrong.
Anyway, I decided that if I ever become wealthy enough, I will put some money to work with somebody who knows something about designing jeans and will get them to design a line of jeans that has sizes in measurements instead of arbitrary numbers. I mean, men's jeans are measured out by waist and inseam, why can't women's? My line of jeans will also include thigh measurements because we all know some women don't have thighs and some of us do. But that doesn't mean if we have large thighs we have large waistlines and are tall and vice versa.
Last, I have come up with a name for my new denim pant (or trousers, Diane) line: Jenns.
Yup, that's right, I am so self-absorbed I have to name them after myself. Also, I think it will be really easy for people to switch over from Jeans to Jenns. "I need to go pick up a new pair of Jenns." "How does my butt look in these Jenns?" Etc.
Brilliant.
So, I went to my normal stores and all of the short/ankle length jeans just seemed a lot longer than normal. Like, so long that when I stood on my tippy toes I still had at least 2 inches that were dragging on the ground. Yes, I know I can get things tailored, but I always feel that once jeans get hemmed they lose a little something. I mean, anyone can tell that they have been tailored, plus the proportions are all wrong.
Anyway, I decided that if I ever become wealthy enough, I will put some money to work with somebody who knows something about designing jeans and will get them to design a line of jeans that has sizes in measurements instead of arbitrary numbers. I mean, men's jeans are measured out by waist and inseam, why can't women's? My line of jeans will also include thigh measurements because we all know some women don't have thighs and some of us do. But that doesn't mean if we have large thighs we have large waistlines and are tall and vice versa.
Last, I have come up with a name for my new denim pant (or trousers, Diane) line: Jenns.
Yup, that's right, I am so self-absorbed I have to name them after myself. Also, I think it will be really easy for people to switch over from Jeans to Jenns. "I need to go pick up a new pair of Jenns." "How does my butt look in these Jenns?" Etc.
Brilliant.
Thursday 20 September 2007
Fafarazzi
Have I ever mentioned I like reading about celebrities? I get a weird sense of joy when I open up The Superficial pages every day when I am bored at work. I love to see who did what stupid thing and how they are going to be made fun of that day. Since I am not the only one with this ridiculous obsession, some friends and I joined a Celebrity Fantasy League. We each have teams of celebrities and the celebrities earn points for the team by getting publicity (good or bad). I would love to take the rest of this post space bragging about what amazingly terrible celebrities I got and how they are going to lead me to victory but the truth is my team has been bouncing around in the bottom half of the rankings. I am lucky enough to be currently number 5 (out of 9) but I have slipped as low as 8th and in 5 minutes I could drop down to last depending on what happens.
The reality of the situation is that my celebrities are underachievers. They do not have their eye on the game. I don't know what they are thinking, but none of them have managed to get an ounce of publicity on their own this past week. Here's who I am stuck with:
Jessica Simpson. Here I thought she would be my golden star, my quarterback if you will and if I knew a thing about football. But no. The only publicity she has managed to get is by dragging on the coattails or should I say hair extensions of Britney Spears. Apparently, Ms. Simspon allowed Ms. Spears to borrow her personal hairstylist and extension wizard Ken Paves before the VMAs. As we all well recall Brit had an incident where she went crazy and shaved her head. It was so sweet of dear Jessie to loan Brittie her Ken-doll Paves so she could look like her old self for the performance. However, Britney, being the psycopath that she is, apparently had a tiff just before the show with Ken and thus the was the cause (or one of the many causes) of the disaster VMA perfomance. Since crazy Britney is not on my team, I am stuck collecting the leftover points whenever the Britney/Ken Paves incident is recalled and Jessica's act of kindness is mentioned. Jessica- maybe you should get pregnant with Ken Paves baby ASAP instead of waiting six months. Then I'd get all the points.
I also have Jessica's Ex Nick Lachey, whose name is only mentioned when the rumors fly about Jessica trying to have a baby with Kenneth, and apparently he is going to open some restaurant with Nicky Hilton and Wilmer Valderrama. But no one cares about that. He's earned me two points. Jokers.
My surprise rising star has been Ryan Seacrest. That's mainly because Simon Cowell criticized him in regards to the Emmy's and because he has a radio show where he interviews a lot of cooler celebrities. So, basically, all Seacrest has to do is say "Seacrest...Out" a lot and invite celebrities to come on his show and he will continue to earn me points.
I also have ex-couple Heath Ledger and Michelle Williams. Unfortunately, there haven't been any public fights or airing of dirty laundry between them. The only remotely exciting thing that has happened is that Heath was spotted making out with an older woman. Who cares. Poor Michelle Williams. All anyone ever knew her for was her attachment to Heath and the fact she played Jen Lindley on Dawson's Creek. Now what is she going to do? I always thought she had weird teeth that looked covered in vaseline so I am not sure how far she will make it in Hollywood alone.
Zac Efron (a) spells his name weird and (b) doesn't do anything except be remotely connected to Vanessa Hudgens who took naked pictures of herself for him. There are only so many ways you can rewrite that story, so 'nuff said.
I thought I would rack up quite a bit of points due to my team member Owen Wilson's depression, former drug addiction, and attempt at ending his life, but first I feel bad wishing him to continue on the downward spiral so I can earn more Fafa points, but second I really like Owen Wilson. I feel like he has got to be a really nice guy. So maybe, he will get some publicity for something really good instead of depressing sadness.
I recently added Avril Lavigne on my team because she is always saying stupid things. But apparently she has only said two stupid things lately because I have only gotten two points off of her.
My other losers are Cameron Diaz who may or may not be dating John Mayer (what?) and Gwen Stefani who only gets points because sometimes she dresses like a mannequin. Needless to say, neither of those so called famous people have done a bit of good on my team.
The only way I could foresee myself catching up in this game is if the following scenario happens:
Jessica Simpson is caught making out with with Ryan Seacrest in front of former hubby Nick Lachey at Nick's restaurant opening. It turns out Nick Lachey really doesn't care what Jessica does, because he is in turn actually Ken Paves secret lover. This though, bothers Jessica because she is planning on having Ken's beautiful blonde babies, and feels betrayed by Ken, who she thought was her loyal hair extension specialist. However, it turns out that Nick is actually bald in real life and has been using Ken to create the illusion of lovely locks years before Ken and Jessica even met. Ken has also been training Nick in ballroom dancing, so Nick can join the ranks of his brother Drew as a Dancing with the Stars champion. Meanwhile, photos of Jessica Simpson circulate, with crusty mascara running down her face, and rumors start that both she and Michelle Williams are alcoholics living in misery on the streets of Beverly Hills. Heath Ledger is caught making out with Cameron Diaz who later in the week is caught making out with Zac Efron. Also, it turns out that Gwen Stefani is in fact a mannequin that springs to life when a particular shade of magical red lipstick is applied to her plastic face. Finally, Avril Lavigne demonstrates her kind and good heart by volunteering at the very mental health center to which Owen Wilson has been committed. After Avril offers Owen worlds of advice on how to handle publicity, etc, they become fast friends and are inseparable to the point of creepy considering Owen is significantly older than Avril. Avril convinces Owen to express his personality through pink streaks in his hair and he makes a complete recovery, forgetting about Kate Hudsen as he overcomes his drug addiction once and for all.
I have two weeks for the above to happen. Then, you can all congratulate me on my champion team in the world of fantasy leagues.
The reality of the situation is that my celebrities are underachievers. They do not have their eye on the game. I don't know what they are thinking, but none of them have managed to get an ounce of publicity on their own this past week. Here's who I am stuck with:
Jessica Simpson. Here I thought she would be my golden star, my quarterback if you will and if I knew a thing about football. But no. The only publicity she has managed to get is by dragging on the coattails or should I say hair extensions of Britney Spears. Apparently, Ms. Simspon allowed Ms. Spears to borrow her personal hairstylist and extension wizard Ken Paves before the VMAs. As we all well recall Brit had an incident where she went crazy and shaved her head. It was so sweet of dear Jessie to loan Brittie her Ken-doll Paves so she could look like her old self for the performance. However, Britney, being the psycopath that she is, apparently had a tiff just before the show with Ken and thus the was the cause (or one of the many causes) of the disaster VMA perfomance. Since crazy Britney is not on my team, I am stuck collecting the leftover points whenever the Britney/Ken Paves incident is recalled and Jessica's act of kindness is mentioned. Jessica- maybe you should get pregnant with Ken Paves baby ASAP instead of waiting six months. Then I'd get all the points.
I also have Jessica's Ex Nick Lachey, whose name is only mentioned when the rumors fly about Jessica trying to have a baby with Kenneth, and apparently he is going to open some restaurant with Nicky Hilton and Wilmer Valderrama. But no one cares about that. He's earned me two points. Jokers.
My surprise rising star has been Ryan Seacrest. That's mainly because Simon Cowell criticized him in regards to the Emmy's and because he has a radio show where he interviews a lot of cooler celebrities. So, basically, all Seacrest has to do is say "Seacrest...Out" a lot and invite celebrities to come on his show and he will continue to earn me points.
I also have ex-couple Heath Ledger and Michelle Williams. Unfortunately, there haven't been any public fights or airing of dirty laundry between them. The only remotely exciting thing that has happened is that Heath was spotted making out with an older woman. Who cares. Poor Michelle Williams. All anyone ever knew her for was her attachment to Heath and the fact she played Jen Lindley on Dawson's Creek. Now what is she going to do? I always thought she had weird teeth that looked covered in vaseline so I am not sure how far she will make it in Hollywood alone.
Zac Efron (a) spells his name weird and (b) doesn't do anything except be remotely connected to Vanessa Hudgens who took naked pictures of herself for him. There are only so many ways you can rewrite that story, so 'nuff said.
I thought I would rack up quite a bit of points due to my team member Owen Wilson's depression, former drug addiction, and attempt at ending his life, but first I feel bad wishing him to continue on the downward spiral so I can earn more Fafa points, but second I really like Owen Wilson. I feel like he has got to be a really nice guy. So maybe, he will get some publicity for something really good instead of depressing sadness.
I recently added Avril Lavigne on my team because she is always saying stupid things. But apparently she has only said two stupid things lately because I have only gotten two points off of her.
My other losers are Cameron Diaz who may or may not be dating John Mayer (what?) and Gwen Stefani who only gets points because sometimes she dresses like a mannequin. Needless to say, neither of those so called famous people have done a bit of good on my team.
The only way I could foresee myself catching up in this game is if the following scenario happens:
Jessica Simpson is caught making out with with Ryan Seacrest in front of former hubby Nick Lachey at Nick's restaurant opening. It turns out Nick Lachey really doesn't care what Jessica does, because he is in turn actually Ken Paves secret lover. This though, bothers Jessica because she is planning on having Ken's beautiful blonde babies, and feels betrayed by Ken, who she thought was her loyal hair extension specialist. However, it turns out that Nick is actually bald in real life and has been using Ken to create the illusion of lovely locks years before Ken and Jessica even met. Ken has also been training Nick in ballroom dancing, so Nick can join the ranks of his brother Drew as a Dancing with the Stars champion. Meanwhile, photos of Jessica Simpson circulate, with crusty mascara running down her face, and rumors start that both she and Michelle Williams are alcoholics living in misery on the streets of Beverly Hills. Heath Ledger is caught making out with Cameron Diaz who later in the week is caught making out with Zac Efron. Also, it turns out that Gwen Stefani is in fact a mannequin that springs to life when a particular shade of magical red lipstick is applied to her plastic face. Finally, Avril Lavigne demonstrates her kind and good heart by volunteering at the very mental health center to which Owen Wilson has been committed. After Avril offers Owen worlds of advice on how to handle publicity, etc, they become fast friends and are inseparable to the point of creepy considering Owen is significantly older than Avril. Avril convinces Owen to express his personality through pink streaks in his hair and he makes a complete recovery, forgetting about Kate Hudsen as he overcomes his drug addiction once and for all.
I have two weeks for the above to happen. Then, you can all congratulate me on my champion team in the world of fantasy leagues.
Monday 17 September 2007
Jokers
Brooke (my roommate) has recently decided she is going to use the term "Aces" to mean something good happened or to describe something good ("like aces"). This all came about because a friend of hers uses the word "chocolate" for that same purpose. I have decided if people are going to start making up new slang words for good things, I also wanted a trademark word.
My word is going to be "jokers" (keeping with the card theme) and it is going to mean (a) crazy (b) wild and (c) terrible. I thought of this while I was waiting for the bus this AM and would have texted Brooke my brilliant new slang word, however, her phone doesn't accept text messages because it is not actually a cell phone but it is a cordless phone she happens to carry around in her purse. So Brooke, I hope you read this.
Here are a few scenarios of when "jokers" would be appropriate to use:
When the Red Sox are winning and then the Yankees sneak attack them in the last two innings with lots of runs all of a sudden (as per Friday's game):
"Jokers! What happened?"
When your roommate comes home and tells you a crazy story about a tan old man wearing orange short shorts and no shirt on the bus:
"That's jokers!"
When a colleague asks you how your Saturday night was and it consisted of you waiting in line at a way too cool bar, never end up getting in and finding yourself at another bar that is less cool but in a bad way where the end of a pub crawl is happening and so there are way too many people in matching t-shirts falling all over each other:
"It was like jokers. I am not even kidding you."
So you'll hear me using the word "jokers" now. You can use it too but remember I started it.
My word is going to be "jokers" (keeping with the card theme) and it is going to mean (a) crazy (b) wild and (c) terrible. I thought of this while I was waiting for the bus this AM and would have texted Brooke my brilliant new slang word, however, her phone doesn't accept text messages because it is not actually a cell phone but it is a cordless phone she happens to carry around in her purse. So Brooke, I hope you read this.
Here are a few scenarios of when "jokers" would be appropriate to use:
When the Red Sox are winning and then the Yankees sneak attack them in the last two innings with lots of runs all of a sudden (as per Friday's game):
"Jokers! What happened?"
When your roommate comes home and tells you a crazy story about a tan old man wearing orange short shorts and no shirt on the bus:
"That's jokers!"
When a colleague asks you how your Saturday night was and it consisted of you waiting in line at a way too cool bar, never end up getting in and finding yourself at another bar that is less cool but in a bad way where the end of a pub crawl is happening and so there are way too many people in matching t-shirts falling all over each other:
"It was like jokers. I am not even kidding you."
So you'll hear me using the word "jokers" now. You can use it too but remember I started it.
Sunday 16 September 2007
Why I haven't posted in a week
I know that being a blogger means posting, but sometimes it is hard. There are quite a few reasons why I haven't posted in a while and I will outline them below:
Number 1 reason I haven't updated my blog: I have become a Facebook junkie. Okay, so I know I am borderline too old for Facebook, but I recently quit MySpace (it was kind of a spontaneous decision) and I needed a way to stalk people online (Mom, do not try this at home). So anyway, Facebook has been blowing up with these things called applications. For those of you who are not familiar with Facebook, it is basically a networking website for friends. To make it more interesting you can add surveys, games, polls, etc onto your page. I recently added Scrabulous because I caught my roommate Brooke playing it with her friends. So now I can play scrabble with my friends online through Facebook! Or so I thought. So I looked at my list of friends and thought, "Who will play with me?" And invited a few people. Then waited. The two people I invited accepted my invitations but didn't take their turns. So I start sending harassing emails to them, trying to trash talk them into putting their words down. Turns out they aren't stupid, just Scrabulous had been acting up. So anyway, today I say to my roommate Brooke, "I just want to play Scrabble!" She says, "Well, if you want we can play real scrabble right now." I said to her, "Maybe later, I have to go update my blog."
Number 2 reason: Work sucks. I have been at work way too much this past week (including today and Saturday) because I have had to get stuff ready for a business trip to Denver, on top of the fact we are short-staffed and that it is the busiest time of year. I have been so work-oriented that I haven't been able to think of anything remotely creative or funny to add to this blog. Why is that you ask? Oh, because work sucks the creative and funny out of me and I turn into a miserable sad not funny person.
Number 3: I haven't been able to post because I have been in the midst of working on some fake news stories. I know all of you out there think that fake news just comes out of my head like ear wax, but the truth is they take time and research. I mean, I have to first find the fake story. That's not even the toughest part. Then, I have to do some fake interviews (and let me tell you, it is really hard sometimes to contact the fake people you are trying to interview and fit into their fake schedule.) Then, I have to fact check all of the fake facts and submit the story to my fake editor. Who then fake edits it, which means quite a few fake revisions, until finally it is a fake news story I can post on this blog. It's a lot of hard work, fake news writing. I am not even kidding. It's tough. And time consuming. Right now I am working on a human interest story about a pair of socks that I think you will enjoy, but it is only in the fake story idea stage at this point.
And 4: I have better things to do than post on this blog! For instance, last Sunday, Liz and I went apple picking and it was really funny and I thought to myself "Now this is something I should post about." But then, Liz and I were really busy drinking beers and eating Guinness soup and I had no time to write. The next day I was at work late, and the day after that I went to see Tim and Amy and celebrate the fact they actually have new jobs that they liked, which involved more beers. Thursday I saw Wicked, and Friday I watched the Red Sox game. So all in all, it has been a busy week, and so I couldn't write about the apple picking adventure, or the fact that Liz came up with my future career as a professional third wheel. One day, maybe, I will write about all of those things. As you can see, right now I just don't have the time.
Number 1 reason I haven't updated my blog: I have become a Facebook junkie. Okay, so I know I am borderline too old for Facebook, but I recently quit MySpace (it was kind of a spontaneous decision) and I needed a way to stalk people online (Mom, do not try this at home). So anyway, Facebook has been blowing up with these things called applications. For those of you who are not familiar with Facebook, it is basically a networking website for friends. To make it more interesting you can add surveys, games, polls, etc onto your page. I recently added Scrabulous because I caught my roommate Brooke playing it with her friends. So now I can play scrabble with my friends online through Facebook! Or so I thought. So I looked at my list of friends and thought, "Who will play with me?" And invited a few people. Then waited. The two people I invited accepted my invitations but didn't take their turns. So I start sending harassing emails to them, trying to trash talk them into putting their words down. Turns out they aren't stupid, just Scrabulous had been acting up. So anyway, today I say to my roommate Brooke, "I just want to play Scrabble!" She says, "Well, if you want we can play real scrabble right now." I said to her, "Maybe later, I have to go update my blog."
Number 2 reason: Work sucks. I have been at work way too much this past week (including today and Saturday) because I have had to get stuff ready for a business trip to Denver, on top of the fact we are short-staffed and that it is the busiest time of year. I have been so work-oriented that I haven't been able to think of anything remotely creative or funny to add to this blog. Why is that you ask? Oh, because work sucks the creative and funny out of me and I turn into a miserable sad not funny person.
Number 3: I haven't been able to post because I have been in the midst of working on some fake news stories. I know all of you out there think that fake news just comes out of my head like ear wax, but the truth is they take time and research. I mean, I have to first find the fake story. That's not even the toughest part. Then, I have to do some fake interviews (and let me tell you, it is really hard sometimes to contact the fake people you are trying to interview and fit into their fake schedule.) Then, I have to fact check all of the fake facts and submit the story to my fake editor. Who then fake edits it, which means quite a few fake revisions, until finally it is a fake news story I can post on this blog. It's a lot of hard work, fake news writing. I am not even kidding. It's tough. And time consuming. Right now I am working on a human interest story about a pair of socks that I think you will enjoy, but it is only in the fake story idea stage at this point.
And 4: I have better things to do than post on this blog! For instance, last Sunday, Liz and I went apple picking and it was really funny and I thought to myself "Now this is something I should post about." But then, Liz and I were really busy drinking beers and eating Guinness soup and I had no time to write. The next day I was at work late, and the day after that I went to see Tim and Amy and celebrate the fact they actually have new jobs that they liked, which involved more beers. Thursday I saw Wicked, and Friday I watched the Red Sox game. So all in all, it has been a busy week, and so I couldn't write about the apple picking adventure, or the fact that Liz came up with my future career as a professional third wheel. One day, maybe, I will write about all of those things. As you can see, right now I just don't have the time.
Saturday 8 September 2007
Happy Birthday, Marmie!
It's my mom's birthday today, and since she is my number one fan, I wanted to make sure to note that fact.
Speaking of my mom, I am thinking of enlisting her as a guest blogger. Maybe not really a blogger per se, but my mom seems to think she has a lot of great blog ideas. It could be really fun to post them on here.
One idea she had when I was home last week was for me to write a blog about being stuck in an elevator with smelly people and babies. (I think that is what the idea was. I wrote it down but I write a lot of things down and so now that piece of paper has gone missing.) After she brought it up, I asked my mom if that situation just happened to her. Sometimes my mom likes to give half a story so you ask her the probing questions so she can say, "Well, actually, yes, that did just happen and here are a few more juicy details." And once that happens you are trapped into the mom story. Anyway, no she didn't get trapped in an elevator with a smelly person and 17 babies, but apparently she was in an elevator with a smelly person and several babies and she was thinking about how terrible it would be if she got trapped in an elevator with that crowd. Apparently she was counting the seconds between floor two and floor one. Right. (Do you see where I get it from?).
So no, Mom, I am not going to write a blog about that particular scenario, but I am going to give all of my readers a little advice inspired by you:
Do not ride elevators unless they are the only option.
In a mall, for example, you usually have both elevators and escalators. Choose the escalator! If you choose the elevator you run the risk of being stuck in it for an indefinite amount of time with unfortunate people who probably don't like you. I know some people don't like escalators, however, elevators are far worse.
If an elevator breaks, you are stuck in there for who knows how long. Has anyone seen Mixed Nuts? That is a classic example of being stuck in an elevator. It even comes with a song. If an escalator breaks, you can just walk up or down the stairs, depending which way you are more comfortable going.
People have no sense of personal space in an elevator. For most, it seems as though riding the elevator is a game of "Can I fit?" Even on the most crowded elevators, people just push their way in with no regard for other peoples' comfort levels. On an escalator, this happens sometimes when you have a close stander. (You know, those people who huff on the back of your neck with soft pretzel breath?) But, at least you always have the option of moving up a step or two. If they follow, you keep going, and think of it this way- you are at least getting some exercise, which is so hard to fit in the world of moving sidewalks, escalators, scooters, etc.
Furthermore, elevators are evil. I know, I know, I am totally stereotyping elevators. Surely they are not all the spawn of Satan. Nonetheless, it must be said- most elevators don't care about you at all. They will close the door on your arm. Oh, you are one arm short now? Who cares? Not the elevator! An escalator would never do that. If your heel gets stuck in between one of the steps, there is an emergency stop button that can be pressed. You might think the "open door" button on the elevator serves a similar purpose. You are wrong. That button can actually only be pressed a limited number of times before it decides you don't really require the door be held open and nothing will stop that door from closing on your or a friend's arm, leg, or face.
Basically, the moral of this post is- try to avoid elevators. They are not your friends. If you are on the second floor of a mall, and your only option is to take the elevator or take your chances throwing your body off the balcony of the second floor to land in a plant on the first floor, give the jump a whirl. All jokes aside, you might break a leg or two, but at least you won't lose an arm permanently which is sure to happen if you ride the elevator.
Speaking of my mom, I am thinking of enlisting her as a guest blogger. Maybe not really a blogger per se, but my mom seems to think she has a lot of great blog ideas. It could be really fun to post them on here.
One idea she had when I was home last week was for me to write a blog about being stuck in an elevator with smelly people and babies. (I think that is what the idea was. I wrote it down but I write a lot of things down and so now that piece of paper has gone missing.) After she brought it up, I asked my mom if that situation just happened to her. Sometimes my mom likes to give half a story so you ask her the probing questions so she can say, "Well, actually, yes, that did just happen and here are a few more juicy details." And once that happens you are trapped into the mom story. Anyway, no she didn't get trapped in an elevator with a smelly person and 17 babies, but apparently she was in an elevator with a smelly person and several babies and she was thinking about how terrible it would be if she got trapped in an elevator with that crowd. Apparently she was counting the seconds between floor two and floor one. Right. (Do you see where I get it from?).
So no, Mom, I am not going to write a blog about that particular scenario, but I am going to give all of my readers a little advice inspired by you:
Do not ride elevators unless they are the only option.
In a mall, for example, you usually have both elevators and escalators. Choose the escalator! If you choose the elevator you run the risk of being stuck in it for an indefinite amount of time with unfortunate people who probably don't like you. I know some people don't like escalators, however, elevators are far worse.
If an elevator breaks, you are stuck in there for who knows how long. Has anyone seen Mixed Nuts? That is a classic example of being stuck in an elevator. It even comes with a song. If an escalator breaks, you can just walk up or down the stairs, depending which way you are more comfortable going.
People have no sense of personal space in an elevator. For most, it seems as though riding the elevator is a game of "Can I fit?" Even on the most crowded elevators, people just push their way in with no regard for other peoples' comfort levels. On an escalator, this happens sometimes when you have a close stander. (You know, those people who huff on the back of your neck with soft pretzel breath?) But, at least you always have the option of moving up a step or two. If they follow, you keep going, and think of it this way- you are at least getting some exercise, which is so hard to fit in the world of moving sidewalks, escalators, scooters, etc.
Furthermore, elevators are evil. I know, I know, I am totally stereotyping elevators. Surely they are not all the spawn of Satan. Nonetheless, it must be said- most elevators don't care about you at all. They will close the door on your arm. Oh, you are one arm short now? Who cares? Not the elevator! An escalator would never do that. If your heel gets stuck in between one of the steps, there is an emergency stop button that can be pressed. You might think the "open door" button on the elevator serves a similar purpose. You are wrong. That button can actually only be pressed a limited number of times before it decides you don't really require the door be held open and nothing will stop that door from closing on your or a friend's arm, leg, or face.
Basically, the moral of this post is- try to avoid elevators. They are not your friends. If you are on the second floor of a mall, and your only option is to take the elevator or take your chances throwing your body off the balcony of the second floor to land in a plant on the first floor, give the jump a whirl. All jokes aside, you might break a leg or two, but at least you won't lose an arm permanently which is sure to happen if you ride the elevator.
Wednesday 5 September 2007
Eggs, Milk, and Ice Cream
Sometimes when I have a crummy day I like to walk to the White Hen and get some Ben and Jerry's. I say Ben and Jerry's specifically because it is usually the best option in the Hen. Depending on what sort of crummy it is, I will get either Phish Food (now Surf and Turf variety for a limited time only) or Chocolate Therapy. Every once and a while I get Chubby Hubby which used to be my preference but lately has fallen out of favor.
There are a lot of odd things about the Hen. For instance, whenever I go in there for the sole purpose of buying ice cream, I always end up leaving with ice cream, a quart of milk, and half a dozen eggs. I can't really explain it, except maybe I am embarrassed to be buying just ice cream. Usually I am dressed the part of the depressed female who just has got to have the ice cream, so I think I subconsciously try to cover it up by picking up the eggs and the milk as well. Once you add eggs and milk to the ice cream purchase, you aren't saying "Oh I really needed some ice cream because my day was crummy" you are now saying "Gosh, I need eggs and milk desperately for my breakfast/that quiche I am making for Brunch in the AM/the cake I have to bake for my friends birthday.... oh this ice cream? I thought I'd just grab that while I was here. You know, for the kids. Watching my girlish figure of course." It's almost that the ice cream is a treat for being responsible by buying two responsible items (egg and milk). I mean, doesn't everyone always have eggs and milk on hand? If they don't they should. I mean, really.
Other weird things happen at the Hen, too. Once I was in there minding my own business (i.e. eavesdropping on an old man reading ingredients off of boxes) when all of a sudden these two people start speaking German. I turn the corner and then this one man says to the old man, "Do you speak German, too?" I thought that was sort of odd, because why would an old man be singled out for speaking German when clearly he was reading the ingredients off in English, when I turned the corner of the Laundry Detergent/Chip and Dip/Toilet Paper aisle and saw the old man was in fact wearing something that resembled leiderhosen (sp?). I thought it was kind of odd that there were three German-phones in the White Hen but I didn't care enough to ponder it for too long and took the opportunity to purchase my pot pie (plus milk and eggs). The cashier rang it up as over $20. Now- the prices in White Hen are a little high, however, $20 for three items is pushing it in my book. So I said, "For the pot pie, milk, and eggs?" And the 20-ish Tufts student said, "And your other items." All of a sudden I noticed a pile of various items that were not mine on the counter. "Those aren't mine," I responded carefully. The poor guy seemed so confused and then he apologized, apparently he had thought I was the girl who had dropped her stuff on the counter and then ran off to get a few more items (That's how it works at the Hen, they have baskets but nobody uses them. They just drop their items off at the counter once their hands get full and then go back for more). Anyway, I turn around and there is a girl. She was wearing glasses that looked like mine, had my hair color, was my height, and was wearing the same T-shirt as me. I had run into Bizarro Jenn. At the White Hen. On German Day. (Granted, it was someone I worked with but didn't know and had just come back from a work event where we all had to wear work T-shirts. But still. It was weird nonetheless.)
Last time I visited the Hen, I walk in, and it is completely empty. No employees, no customers. It's a family run Hen, so I assumed someone was in the back and would hear the bell on the door had rung and would come out in a minute to make sure I didn't steal anything. So, I just start shopping. After a few minutes of quiet, I start to think it is a little odd, but decided to figure it out once I got all the things I needed. I turn that laundry detergent/chip aisle corner, and then all of a sudden "BOOOOOOO!" I nearly dropped the eggs I was carrying (for show, I had no plan on purchasing) and jumped and let out a little squeal. Then, there was laughter and a "Got YOU!" I turn around and look in the corridor I like to call the secret passageway and there are two young Hen employees goofing around. The girl had hidden so she could surprise the guy when he came out of the bathroom. I am not sure if that is the most professional of behavior, but hey, we are talking about the White Hen here and at my work, which is in an office building mind you, you can run around in capes and skeleton costumes and that is called motivation. Needless to say, next time I go into White Hen I will keep one eye open, or maybe both eyes because it would be pretty bizarre if I only had one eye open, I guess, unless the other eye was covered in an eye patch or something. What I mean is, I will be on the lookout for people hiding and jumping out and surprising other employees. Whatever. I don't even know what this post is about anymore.
I think it is about the fact I had a crummy day today and might go buy some ice cream. I think I need eggs, too. And milk.
There are a lot of odd things about the Hen. For instance, whenever I go in there for the sole purpose of buying ice cream, I always end up leaving with ice cream, a quart of milk, and half a dozen eggs. I can't really explain it, except maybe I am embarrassed to be buying just ice cream. Usually I am dressed the part of the depressed female who just has got to have the ice cream, so I think I subconsciously try to cover it up by picking up the eggs and the milk as well. Once you add eggs and milk to the ice cream purchase, you aren't saying "Oh I really needed some ice cream because my day was crummy" you are now saying "Gosh, I need eggs and milk desperately for my breakfast/that quiche I am making for Brunch in the AM/the cake I have to bake for my friends birthday.... oh this ice cream? I thought I'd just grab that while I was here. You know, for the kids. Watching my girlish figure of course." It's almost that the ice cream is a treat for being responsible by buying two responsible items (egg and milk). I mean, doesn't everyone always have eggs and milk on hand? If they don't they should. I mean, really.
Other weird things happen at the Hen, too. Once I was in there minding my own business (i.e. eavesdropping on an old man reading ingredients off of boxes) when all of a sudden these two people start speaking German. I turn the corner and then this one man says to the old man, "Do you speak German, too?" I thought that was sort of odd, because why would an old man be singled out for speaking German when clearly he was reading the ingredients off in English, when I turned the corner of the Laundry Detergent/Chip and Dip/Toilet Paper aisle and saw the old man was in fact wearing something that resembled leiderhosen (sp?). I thought it was kind of odd that there were three German-phones in the White Hen but I didn't care enough to ponder it for too long and took the opportunity to purchase my pot pie (plus milk and eggs). The cashier rang it up as over $20. Now- the prices in White Hen are a little high, however, $20 for three items is pushing it in my book. So I said, "For the pot pie, milk, and eggs?" And the 20-ish Tufts student said, "And your other items." All of a sudden I noticed a pile of various items that were not mine on the counter. "Those aren't mine," I responded carefully. The poor guy seemed so confused and then he apologized, apparently he had thought I was the girl who had dropped her stuff on the counter and then ran off to get a few more items (That's how it works at the Hen, they have baskets but nobody uses them. They just drop their items off at the counter once their hands get full and then go back for more). Anyway, I turn around and there is a girl. She was wearing glasses that looked like mine, had my hair color, was my height, and was wearing the same T-shirt as me. I had run into Bizarro Jenn. At the White Hen. On German Day. (Granted, it was someone I worked with but didn't know and had just come back from a work event where we all had to wear work T-shirts. But still. It was weird nonetheless.)
Last time I visited the Hen, I walk in, and it is completely empty. No employees, no customers. It's a family run Hen, so I assumed someone was in the back and would hear the bell on the door had rung and would come out in a minute to make sure I didn't steal anything. So, I just start shopping. After a few minutes of quiet, I start to think it is a little odd, but decided to figure it out once I got all the things I needed. I turn that laundry detergent/chip aisle corner, and then all of a sudden "BOOOOOOO!" I nearly dropped the eggs I was carrying (for show, I had no plan on purchasing) and jumped and let out a little squeal. Then, there was laughter and a "Got YOU!" I turn around and look in the corridor I like to call the secret passageway and there are two young Hen employees goofing around. The girl had hidden so she could surprise the guy when he came out of the bathroom. I am not sure if that is the most professional of behavior, but hey, we are talking about the White Hen here and at my work, which is in an office building mind you, you can run around in capes and skeleton costumes and that is called motivation. Needless to say, next time I go into White Hen I will keep one eye open, or maybe both eyes because it would be pretty bizarre if I only had one eye open, I guess, unless the other eye was covered in an eye patch or something. What I mean is, I will be on the lookout for people hiding and jumping out and surprising other employees. Whatever. I don't even know what this post is about anymore.
I think it is about the fact I had a crummy day today and might go buy some ice cream. I think I need eggs, too. And milk.
Hairball
Did I mention I hate taking the bus? Have I ever mentioned that waiting for the bus is almost just as bad as taking the bus?
In the spring and summer and early fall I almost don't mind the bus wait, because it is usually a pleasant experience. I go to True Grounds for a coffee or a slice of banana bread. I read a book. I listen to my iPod. It's generally kind of nice and relaxing.
Today, I got out there early. Ran to get my first hot coffee beverage of the season (Medium Mocha with Skim milk), then went out to the bus stop and started waiting. As I am listening to my pod I see a golden blond strand of hair waft by my face. Then another. And another. One almost blows in my mouth as I take a sip of my delectable coffee.
Disgusted, I look around. A woman is brushing her hair at the bus stop.
Okay, maybe she didn't have time to get this done in the comfort of her home in front of her vanity. I know I am one to rush out the door before putting on my makeup. Sometimes I haven't even dried my hair. I am not one to judge others for running late and needing to do things on the fly.
However, this woman's hair looked fine. She was sort of like Marcia Brady who used to brush 100 strokes in order to have glossy Panteve Pro-V hair model hair. Thus, the brushing at the bus stop was completely unneccessary and served no real purpose. (I could almost understand if she had rats nest hair and had to make herself presentable. That wasn't the case.)
Furthermore, if she wanted to put in her neccessary 100 strokes, she should just wait til she got to work or wherever she was going. There is no point to brush your hair that much pre-commute. It's only gonna get messed up when you leave the bus and walk through the Lechemere wind tunnel. Also, it's not like she was trying to impress someone who rides the bus. (There is no one of interest on the bus. They are all taken. All the cool kids have cars anyway).
Basically, the point of this story is, now even waiting for the bus means terrible things could happen like getting a stranger's hair in your coffee. Awesome.
In the spring and summer and early fall I almost don't mind the bus wait, because it is usually a pleasant experience. I go to True Grounds for a coffee or a slice of banana bread. I read a book. I listen to my iPod. It's generally kind of nice and relaxing.
Today, I got out there early. Ran to get my first hot coffee beverage of the season (Medium Mocha with Skim milk), then went out to the bus stop and started waiting. As I am listening to my pod I see a golden blond strand of hair waft by my face. Then another. And another. One almost blows in my mouth as I take a sip of my delectable coffee.
Disgusted, I look around. A woman is brushing her hair at the bus stop.
Okay, maybe she didn't have time to get this done in the comfort of her home in front of her vanity. I know I am one to rush out the door before putting on my makeup. Sometimes I haven't even dried my hair. I am not one to judge others for running late and needing to do things on the fly.
However, this woman's hair looked fine. She was sort of like Marcia Brady who used to brush 100 strokes in order to have glossy Panteve Pro-V hair model hair. Thus, the brushing at the bus stop was completely unneccessary and served no real purpose. (I could almost understand if she had rats nest hair and had to make herself presentable. That wasn't the case.)
Furthermore, if she wanted to put in her neccessary 100 strokes, she should just wait til she got to work or wherever she was going. There is no point to brush your hair that much pre-commute. It's only gonna get messed up when you leave the bus and walk through the Lechemere wind tunnel. Also, it's not like she was trying to impress someone who rides the bus. (There is no one of interest on the bus. They are all taken. All the cool kids have cars anyway).
Basically, the point of this story is, now even waiting for the bus means terrible things could happen like getting a stranger's hair in your coffee. Awesome.
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