diseased

I came down with something sinus-y Sunday. My throat was on fire, burning like I'd spent Saturday licking subway handrails or Duane Reade door handles. I spent Sunday drinking hot minty tea with lemon and honey, gargling with saltwater and speaking as little as possible trying to stave off sickness. Not because I cared about missing work - first of all I get 20 sick days a year and I have almost no work ethic - but rather because I had a massage scheduled for Tuesday afternoon and I really really didn't want to miss that. 

Monday I went to work (stupid, I only ended up feeling shittier), I got home from work and promptly fell asleep, waking up at 8pm to watch How I (endlessly tease you about how I) Met Your Mother. I took cold medicine, had soup for dinner, slapped a breathe-right strip across my nose and went back to sleep. 

Tuesday I woke up feeling the exact same but I was positive a massage would help (because I lack common sense but enjoy indulgences) and I really wanted to just get there. I found two Claritins in my drawer from the last time my sinuses attacked, popped one, took a long hot shower and was actually beginning to feel better (all in my head). I even managed to get there on time, despite being in the worst location Manhattan possesses; Penn Station area. I warned the masseuse that I'd probably have to interrupt our session for a few nose blowings and we were on our way. Hippy-dippy chimes chimed in the background, I was doused in Neutrogena sesame oil and things were going well if not a little greasy. Then I sneezed.

The masseuse decided she'd help alleviate my sinus congestion by massage my face. After pouring oil over it. She spent, no joke, 15 minutes rubbing my cheeks and my nose and then doing this weird butterfly finger thing all over my face. Just as I was noting how weird that was I was also thinking I probably had another 15 minutes left. Suddenly she squeezed my shoulders, announced we were done and disappeared. Uhm, what the hell? How did a 60 minute massage lose 20 minutes? I got dressed feeling really annoyed, as I made my way down the hall to find her and ask what happened I could hear her voice through the wall, she was already getting started in another room. So at best no one at the desk would know why I'd lost 20 minutes and at best they'd offer to have someone else fill in but I'd have to get undressed and start all over just for 20 minutes... I was annoyed and not sure what to do so I left. That definitely wasn't the thing to do because know now I'm just annoyed and I screwed up my chance to have them fix it. What would you have done?

Wednesday I still felt shitty so I stayed home again (remember, 20 sick days). I cleaned up around the apartment and watched Life as We Know It. It was kind of really cute and totally watchable. Normally it seems like Katherine Heigl has a tricky time being watchable. I think it helps that Josh Duhamel was in this (Josh Lucas is too for that matter but eh... Josh Lucas is bland) and both he and the house the movie is shot in, are ridiculously gorgeous. Ok fine, the movie was decent the house was the star, it was house porn, are you happy now? 

Which reminds me of a thought I had while I was in bed last night, watching a few Friends episodes before bed. Remember when Phoebe carried her brother Frank and sister-in-law Alice's triplets? Well that was back in 1998 so the triplets would be nearing 15, for what it's worth I'm dying to see that sitcom. Frank and Alice with their crazed brood (including littlest triplet, the girl named Chandler) and wacky aunt Phoebe. Can anyone make this happen for me? An early birthday present perhaps? 

Today I woke up feeling better than I have in a few days. I got up and showered and went to the kitchen to get coffee when I discovered the dog was now not feeling well. Ah fuck. Well I guess ah crap is more appropriate. I clean that up, get dressed and ready to go when I realize I can't find my glasses. Any. Where. This is not so crazy, I'm awful with my glasses, constantly taking them off and leaving them in whatever room I was just in. I've been surprisingly good about not leaving them anywhere but really I think that's just because I need them to see distances, that's the only reason they're not at a nail salon somewhere. I check the living room where I watched Law & Order: SVU last night. Nope. The kitchen, bathroom, my room again, my closet, in my bed, under my bed, under the sofa, no, no, no, no glasses anywhere. I'm late now, if I don't go I'm going to miss the last bus. I give up, put in my contacts (hate!) and rush out getting to the bus stop just in time to see the last bus pull away. Offuckingcourse. I walk over to the subway because subway and bus through the Bronx is my plan B. I get on the 4, I'm pretty much as pissed off as I can be, the morning could have barely started off worse and at 125th Street a lady gets on, sits next to me and starts literally screaming in my face about how Jesus saved her life. She needs to be punched in the face. 

But what I really want to ask her is does she think he'll save it twice? 

mama said there'd be days like this

I grew up in Brooklyn. I took the subway to school or my dad would drop me off on his way to work. Without fail my mom would kiss me goodbye and send me off by yelling down the street; "have a smart day".

I could have used her directive this morning. 

I woke up late.

Then I almost walked out of the apartment without realizing that one contact lens was in fact not in my eye but instead, shriveled up and suctioned on to the side of the sink.

When I finally made it out the door I was doing much better. I walked the dog, put coffee in my travel cup, made sure my Metrocard was in my coat pocket and I was off.  I walked a few blocks to the subway station, swiped my card, descended to the bottom level and waited for a 4. 

The 5 came first, I stepped back, let it pass and continued to wait for the 4. A few weeks ago, in a 'the train has arrived' hysteria I blindly got on only to discover I was on the wrong subway. Today I slightly prided myself on looking before leaping. A few minutes pass, the 4 arrives, I embark and we're headed uptown.  

I'm sure Liz Taylor was a lovely, oft married lady but in the greater scheme of things I don't really care about her so I left the newspaper (print media! I'm Amish!) in my bag and tried to 3 star the Angry Birds screen I had been working on since last night. I'm pinging irate avians around and doing a little bit of people watching. The guy across from me looks like Biggie (but I think he's Biggier), he's rapping quietly but forcefully to himself and holding a discman. A discman. He looks at me, I look away in observance of people watching rules. He gets up, stands in front of the door, tips his Yankee hat to his reflection and starts dancing and pointing at himself. I guess the Mr. Disc Man told him to. 

WannaBiggie gets off at Jackson Avenue. That was about the time that I realized my commute doesn't involve a Jackson Avenue. Fucking fuck fuck. There are few things more self esteem shattering than being bested by the MTA. My Metrocard is really low and until a week from tomorrow, I'm pretty broke so I try and get off at a station that has the free transfer walk-across. The subway map says the Jackson Avenue station is such a station.

Ha ha, MTA, got me again!!

Refill the card, double back about 20 minutes and eventually get to work.

Where I am utterly confused by the fact that my office building elevator is being deranged. Every time I hit the button the doors open instead of closing. What is this now?

"You keep pushing 1. We're on 1", says a voice from behind me. 

Today is shaping up to be the sort of day where I'm glad I don't handle hazardous materials, babies and/or steering wheels.

*Update*
After work I tripped up an escalator (who does that?!) and I'm pretty sure I broke my big toe. Vicodin and I are home now where I'm avoiding all the knives and have no plans on showering with a toaster.

a moment of grace

yesterday, as I was leaving my office building and walking towards the bus to go home I suddenly found myself sideways. Then face down. Since I'm quite lithe and graceful it all went exactly like a well planned reenactment of Black Swan. Slightly more so the crazy and delusional parts, maybe not so much the grace and poise parts. Such is the life of a ballerina. My first thought, while lying on the sidewalk and seeing two pairs of legs pass me (one sort of stepping over me) was; holy fuck. I did it. With this fall I achieved invisibility! I fell but no one sees me. The first Jewish chick with a superpower. You can imagine how excited I was.

"Oh my god, are you ok?"

Briefly. Fuck. So I'm not invisible (not fair). I'm just lying on the sidewalk with a throbbing knee/ankle/elbow/wrist. Well doesn't that seem normal?

ugh shut it

dear bleeding heart Hollywood liberals whom I follow on Twitter (ahem Rainn Wilson I 1000% mean you) where do you get off bitching about HRC's response regarding Libya? There was a guy who was balls to the walls tough on Middle Eastern dictators, you seethed at him daily. Libya is precisely what Iraq was. You voted for the wildly PC lightweight ergo you get a lightweight response to some. Please spare me the indignation.

@rainnwilsonRainnWilson

Ghadafi is waging war on his own people, hundreds dead (or more) & our response is we're 'gravely concerned'.

etiquette; is this still a thing?

despite the fact that yesterday was a Saturday, it was pouring rain and I was completely not in the mood to do so, I met a friend's (male) friend for coffee. He was on time. By the end of the date punctuality would be his only attribute.

Gentlemen, here's a helpful word or two on first meeting a woman; don't stand at the coffee counter with your hands shoved so deeply in your pockets that others wonder if you're playing with yourself. And for fuck's sake, don't discuss your necrotic skin and all the difficulties associated with your psoriasis. 

Ordinarily I'd assume this was the calculated work of a disinterested guy. In this case I'd be wrong. I've already gotten a follow up email and voice mail informing me of what a nice time he had and sure it's late notice but do I want to get together to watch the Superbowl.

I ask you, what the hell is wrong with people?

uhm really?

And how am I not going to read this? I'm thinking this is the perfect Kindle purchase.

lunatic left

When the left can admit that the Fort Hood shooter was Muslim, that Bill Clinton's rhetoric cause the Murrah bombing and that Al Gore's uselessness incited the embassy bombings I'll be willing to hear their opinion on the Tuscon shootings. Until then, really, shut the fcuk up you blathering idiots you're embarrassing yourselves.

*Update* I can't help but wonder; how many people were pissed off about "blood libel" before MSNBC told them to be?

the six month shit

it's like the seven year itch but for non-committal types. In other words; the guy and I are over. He did something shitty that I just couldn't move past. Not fuck-a-nazi-loving-skank-shitty but nevertheless. So if you know any interesting (not quirky interesting, interesting to talk to interesting) grown men you feel free to go ahead and let me know.

wow

how stupid is Martha Coakley? And how much stupider does Obama look? Can this dude (never, ever) get behind a winner or what?

what they want is to sell bridges

I wish that I were as stupid and delusional as some of the folks I know.

Our government can't figure out how to run Cash for Clunkers, can't figure out what to do with with prisoners already in jails, can't pay taxes (as individuals), can't get the DMV to notice the idiocy in putting my old NJ address on my new NY drivers' license and yet I'm to trust them with my pap smears and body as a whole.

Yeah. Right.

(some of) the trouble with being nice;

• you will end up dragging around and reinstalling two computers all by your stupid self
• you will have crappy ac in the bedroom for yet another summer
• you will do a lion's share of the work
• you will not get credit
  
• you will never get that money back
• you will be surrounded by poorly dressed and coiffed friends with ghastly significant others
  
• you will end up friendly with people you don't really like
  
• you will smile when you really want to stab
• no one will ever notice it until you're not.

(thanks to Petitedov who reminded me of a conversation she and I had with a friend of ours who's going to practice being less nice).

random thought

I kinda can't wait to be that batshit-I-don't-at-all-care age where you pick one color and dress head-to-toe in varying hues of it.

It seems really freeing. Much like being freshly released from prison.

cry me a river

here's a pet peeve:
(no doubt part of a continuing series)

people who complain about their largess. Heather and I were doing our ritual airing of complaints earlier today when I mentioned that in terms of 'things people do that are really annoying' this is a biggie for me. It's phony and braggy at the same time - two things that are irksome combined into something loathsome.

Perfect example, the stunning and leggy model/actress/singer that goes on a talk show and talks whines about how awful it was to be her in high school. She was so tall, so beautiful, so talented, so incredibly threatening in her innate awesomeness that it inevitably left her friendless and even *gasp* dateless on prom night. Uh huh... and I'd bet high school was such a treat for the ugly girls. Hell, I remember at my high school all the popular girls were fat, wore mismatched Salvation Army clothes and had never been introduced to a brush (tooth or hair). Our prom was a veritable carnival of freaky looking girls. The mustached, uni-browed girl was crowned homecoming queen. Or was it a very attractive 'mean girl' named Hillary? All a blur. Anyway...

You hit some luck, good for you. You've told us about it, we congratulated you. Now shut the fuck up and enjoy it.

here's where I went wrong

I shaved my legs
I did my nails
I used the 'good' hair stuff to blow dry my hair wavily straight (don't ask, but it looks great!)
I put on make up
I got canceled on
At the last minute

of course I did.

because I'm a genius

how did I know the map change in question, would involve Israel? (the following is excerpted from the article):

The real-time maps on two of the airline's planes flying between London and Tel Aviv, Israel, did not identify Israel. They instead identified Islamic holy sites and just one city in Israel -- Haifa, identified by its Arabic name, Khefa.

Israeli Transport Ministry Director General Gideon Sitterman said it was "unacceptable" that the Jewish state had been "wiped off the map," BBC reported.

&%^*@!

things that have really irritated me this week:

• due to our craptastic economy or total lack thereof I have learned that my already meager salary will (for the foreseeable future) be reduced by 3% - it amounts to more than you'd think, I promise.
• due to our craptastic economy or total lack thereof the MTA has announced transit fare hikes. These hikes will really help enhance my standard of substandard living.
• Out of my work team of 6 my 3 favorite co-workers are leaving at the end of the spring. Of the two who are remaining I really like one and I really dislike the other. Work is definitely going to be way less fun with those 3 gone and I'm really bummed about it. Even though I can now claim the best spot in my office.
• My entire taking people at their actions and not their words plan has been a fairly disappointing and eye opening experience. Granted, I'm pretty cynical to begin with but even I've been taken aback. Some people... wow, just wow.
  
• My right boob kinda hurts (weird and yes, I've already scheduled the dr. appt. fun!)
• I can't stand the new Facebook layout. Can't stand.
  
• I've had a recurring cold for weeks. Awhile ago I went to the dr., was prescribed some medicine, got better. Now I'm sick again. Have been for 2 weeks. I made a dr. appt for tomorrow. Called today to confirm and the receptionist said "no, you're appointment is for today, Thursday. The doctor isn't even in tomorrow." Now Thursdays are my nightmare days at work, the day where I am the absolute busiest and most crazed. There's NO WAY I'd have made an appt for Thursday. Yet, seems I did. So I left work and raced over to the office only to be told... yes, you see where this is going, don't you? So I get to do that again tomorrow.
  

Those are enough gripes for one week, right?

it must be nice

to have absolutely nothing to do but redecorate your home. Install a swing set. Create a vegetable garden. Dye your fountain water St. Paddy's green. Fly to L.A. to hang out with that pathetic, unfunny, windbag; Leno. Follow the NCAA to the point where you've got your brackets down pat.

But I'm not the President, I'm busy.

a great reason to pee in my pants

The other night, on a subway, headed downtown to a poker game in the village I saw a 20somethingish year old 'guy' in the tightest black jeans imaginable. The jeans were so tight, they were leggings really. In case that somehow wasn't bad enough, remember 1993? Well, Leggings-Like asshat was wearing shoe-boots.

*if you don't remember 1993 or were some retarded age like 12 (fuck you) shoe-boots may very well be an indescribable tragedy.