you what?

During lunch the other day Isaac and I decided to leave the bitter dullness of Times Square and take the subway somewhere far away. (Specifically to Magnolia, the purpose of which I'll blog about in the future.) Unfortunately I forgot that I didn't have a metrocard. I get TransitChecks through my work and they were apparently delivered to my office last Monday, when I wasn't there. Instead of the delivery person leaving the card with my boss she took it back to her office (in another building) and neglected to tell me. So when Wednesday rolled around, I swiped my card to discover that it had expired. So I ended up having to buy two one-way tickets that morning; I had to head out to DUMBO before I came to work. Stupidly, I didn't go pick up my new card before lunch. So when we went down into the subway I walked toward the turnstile, reached into my pocket for my wallet and suddenly yelled, "Fuck! I don't have my metrocard!" I said this a little too loud and annoyingly. But then, this hot older silver-haired man turned around (on the other side of the turnstile) and said, "Here, you can use mine." I took quizzically, swiped it quizzically, gave it back and said thank you, still confused. What is the action of kindness you are offering me? I think what perplexed me was how could I use his unlimited card if he had just used it? Because why would anyone let me, a complete stranger, use one of the paid rides on his card? After he left I realized that I wasn't quite profuse enough in my thanks. I should have run after him and offered him something. A hand job for you kindness sir? I would have done it too. He was silver fox. Thank you hot stranger.

So I bought Fit for Life and I'm reading it. Now if you look at me quizzically and say, "But you're not fat" Ima punch you. Just because I'm relatively thin does not mean I'm healthy. And although this book does often talk about losing weight it's mainly a way to eat well. I'm at about page 70 and what I've gleaned so far is that fruit is the body's best friend. And that you should skip breakfast or just eat lots of fruit for breakfast. So that's what I'm doing. I cut up a bunch of fruit last night in preparation for today, which brings me to the "meat" of my post: how in the hell do you cut a mango? I fucking butchered that thing. The mango was probably about the size of two of my fists but I think I only got like 3/4 of a cup of fruit out of it. It was a mess. I was jabbing and slicing as hard as I could. Don't those things have a pit or something? I couldn't even get to it. I put the mango along with some honeydew and kiwi all in a tupperware container and took it with me this morning. This turned out to not be such a good idea. Since each of those fruits was pretty juicy their flavors all kind of ran together, but not in a pleasant way. Ueh, this is dull. That's the kind of post you get at 7AM.

opinion vs fact

Isaac and ipj are discussing Casino Royale:

Isaac: That was a good scene.
ipj: It was bad.
Isaac: Why can't you say I think it was bad.
ipj: Why can't you say I think it was good.
Isaac: Fine. I think it was a good scene.
ipj: Well it wasn't!



I'm pretty sure people have started dropping the . off the end of vs, as I did in the title of this post. This confuses me. Does vs no longer stand for versus? And also, no one says versus anymore; now we're supposed to say the letters v and s.* As in Brown vee-ess the Board of Education or Godzilla vee-ess Mothra. Could someone explain that to me. It doesn't shorten anything. It's certainly not easier to say. Is it some new politically correct thing where opposing sides are no longer considered opponents but mutually working towards the betterment of mankind with just differing opinions? What? Exactly. And if we have to say vee-ess does that mean we should start saying ampersand whenever there's a & sign? Like Ben ampersand Jerry's? Because I'm not going to do that. Though for the sake of consistency in ridiculousness I might try to convince everyone else to.

It's time to get rid of my nearly four year old gym shoes. These things hurt my feet. But I can deal with that; I've been dealing with it for months. And if you know me you'll know that a little thing like pain isn't enough of an impetus to overcome my laziness and distaste for shopping and hence spending money. The real problem now is that they smell. Stanky smell. I don't think they ever fully recovered from the wet soggy mess they became after that rainstorm a few weeks ago. This is a real problem for me since, as many of you know, I hate wearing shoes. I take them off as much as possible. But now I'm embarrassed by the smell. I might have to do a quick fix with some baking soda until I get some new shoes. Of course, there's the possibility that I'll allow the quick fix to turn into a long term solution. The alternative is to refuse to wear shoes at all. I mean, I grew up walking barefoot on gravel, how much worse can the streets of New York be?

*Please note: these perceptions pretty much come from high school experiences, nearly 10 years ago. I have no idea what anyone does anymore.

nutrition

The subway ride home after experiencing my personal version of dance hell (in short form):

Isaac: What should I have for dinner?
ipj: Peanut butter and raw honey.
Isaac: That's not a meal!
ipj: It is if you eat a lot of it.

ouch!

You know what hurts? Popping a tiny tiny tight pimple on your hairless, sensitive chest. For reals.

sleep betrayal

My dreams have become increasingly transparent. It makes me sad. I miss the days when I dreamt (I also miss the days of irregular conjugation. Did you know it's now supposed to be "dreamed?" Yech.) I was an old woman being chased by Hitler and an army of Nazis and I'd try to stop him by throwing explosive pineapples out of my one-person helicopter and I kept writing vague yet powerfully symbolic metaphoric one-liners on post-it notes to the other old women in the Nazi party warning them of impending doom. Those days are gone. Perhaps I'll buy some cran-raspberry juice and drink it right before going to bed. That always gave me weird dreams in the past.

Last night's dream didn't take place in any fantastic world but it did carry a lot of emotion. I was in some American town in my father and his wife's home. My dad was incredibly unstable, bordering on psychotic. My dad's wife wanted me to talk to him. I went into the bathroom, where he had trapped himself in the glass shower. He was fully clothed and had lost a lot of weight. When he saw me he started angrily screaming and yelling. He reached up to a rack on the wall which held a multitude of knives, blades and other sharp objects and took down a large razor blade. The whole time I just stood there, I knew exactly what was going to happen but couldn't see any way to stop it. He paused his screaming, look directly at me, yelled "Sacrifice is art!" and started slashing at his arm trying to cut off his hand. (I would never say that out loud but apparently I'd think it.)

It was later explained that the whole reason he basically went crazy had to do with my unborn brother that I had absorbed or killed or mutilated in some way or something. And then things went from there.

See? No flying. No super powers. No hot celebrity sex (though I don't really ever have those dreams). Just a lot of semi-subconscious guilt-shit cropping up.

I should probably call my dad. I need a vacation. And some imagination.

the real me?

According the The Golden Compass movie's website my Dæmon is:



I took this test a bunch of times and tried to answer as honestly as possible. Really. I was practically stressing out trying to be truthful. And I didn't just retake it because I didn't like the first few Dæmons it gave me.

Anyway, you should click on the picture and take the test about me to see if you agree. Here's the thing though, your answers affect what everyone else sees. The qualities associated with me stay the same because that's what came up when I took the test, that way when someone else views this they'll still answer the questions based on the original test's qualities. But the Dæmon will keep changing based on your answers. So don't go answering things willy-nilly; I don't want to end up with a cockroach or something. And you should probably only do it once. I started running into problems when I kept answering questions for myself over and over again just to see what would happen.

So take the test. And after taking the test you should read the book. And after reading the book you should see the movie, with me.

what?

Every Thursday my job has a "manager's meeting," which I am supposed to attend. And I have been attending...every Thursday...at 11AM...for the past 6 months.

But not today.

I don't know what's wrong with me. I really have no idea what day of the week it is anymore. Nothing divides my days because my entire week is a hodgepodge of work and Pilates. Different days just mean a different schedule of the same routines. This morning I totally sat at my desk playing solitaire while the meeting was happening. At one point I stopped and thought, huh, L & L have been gone a long time, I wonder where they are? On my way to the kitchen to fill up my water bottle I even walked by the conference room where the meeting was being held. I saw everyone in there and still nothing clicked. I figured they were probably having a reporting meeting that didn't concern me. I doubt I would have ever realized my mistake if my boss hadn't mentioned something when I just went to ask her about an unrelated problem.

lose weight now, ask me how!

You will need:

1 low paying job
3 senses of impending dread (life, love, money)
1 commitment that forces you to go to the gym
1 obsessive need to exercise
a healthy dose of low self-esteem
and lots and lots of natural aversion to food

It's so easy!*

A while ago I was tabulating all my expenses over the past few months (because my job is dull and I'm not going to work to make it better), trying to figure out if I could move (it turns out I can't, but that's another post that will never be). I discovered that since January I've spent almost the exact same amount on food every month, like, within a few dollars. And I don't plan my meals or budget when it comes to food. I mean, I don't actively budget, I just let my impending sense of dread, related to money, dictate when and what I eat. And apparently it keeps me on the mark. I thought this was pretty impressive until tarak pointed out that it might only mean that I eat the exact same thing every month. And she was right. That certainly turned this exciting phenomenon into a bland happenstance. The end.

Better go get on the treadmill.

*ice cream, brownie batter or smores are not valid substitutes for or add ins to the above ingredients