Sunday, August 22, 2010

At Least I Didn't Mix Them All Together

I have officially graduated to a crazy city person who mumbles to themselves as they walk around aimlessly looking in trashcans.

Convincing evidence #1: Yesterday, I had to run to the grocery to get a few things and while I was there I happened upon several extra items that I could not pass up. Here they are in order of importance:
Half Sour Pickles
Ranch Dressing
Tuna salad
Tapioca pudding

So you know this is going directly downhill, right? I did not realize how heavy my stash was going to be to carry the 8 blocks to my apartment so while crossing over Broadway I spied the parkbench those nice city planners strategically placed directly in my path, and I decided to rest a bit. And while I was resting, I decided it would behoove me to have a little snack to keep up my energy on the long walk home. Two half sour pickles later I took stock of my situation as passerby after passerby stopped to stare at me and I couldn't stop laughing. Well, I was in this far, I might as well go the distance. So I ripped open the watermelon container and had roughly half of it. I would have moved directly onto the tomato and cucumber but I didn't have a knife or salt and pepper so I opted to save those for home.

I gathered up my loot and started the long walk only to stop several blocks later to readjust my grip. There I started hysterically laughing again as my inner brain whispered to itself, "I definitely didn't get enough half sour pickles for this".

Convincing evidence #2: Last week after work I had to run some errands and while doing so I remembered all I had for lunch was a giant plate of fries, and that I better have something a tad more on the nutritious side to even the score a bit. At the smoothie place I studied my choices to get the best possible bang for my beverage and picked the Protein Punch. Back outside I swigged a couple gulps of it and literally almost grabbed the nearest person walking past to force them into the smoothie place to buy a Protein Punch. It was the most spiritual experience I've had since Ocean's 11 came out. I was in awe.

It took every ounce of my energy to not stop the next 4,000 people I passed to do the exact same thing and I barely made it to Duane Reade and Planet Kids before I died.

Is this what self actualization is all about? Because holy hell.

Friday, August 20, 2010

Salty, Salty, Salty

Want to know what made me lose my mind just now? The delivery guy only gave me ONE salt packet for my fries. O-N-E. (And I've decided I really, really can't tell you how many fries I consume these days. Really.) On the topic of food, did I tell you about the Rome episode of No Reservations? Because you are depriving yourself of happiness by not watching it. And I'm no expert but I'm pretty sure that's against the commandments.

So this is probably weird*, but as people start figuring out I'm pregnant again I have this overwhelming urge to trick them into thinking I'm not and they just called me fat. So far, I've almost made 5 people faint/vomit/pee their pants by telling them I'm not pregnant I just eat too much. One of which was definitely more of a "boss", than "co-worker", but I literally lost control of my mouth when I started talking**. I mean, I eventually tell them I'm kidding so I'm not a total d-bag, right? And it's definitely better than saying, "Yes, my husband and I had sex and the egg was fertilized with sperm so now my boobs are getting huge and soon my vagina will shoot out a watermelon. You're so kind to notice". Come on, I have some semblance of decency. (Except for that one about engorgement...)

However, do not misunderstand this as complaining or taking for granted what we have been gifted with by having another baby. I am more than over the top excited for Bambino, Part Deux and I do thank God He forgave us for screwing up the first one and let us have another try. I simply think it's a tad weird to talk about internal organ formation with a person I have said 3 words to in 4 years, and I'm pretty sure two of them were calling them by the wrong name.

*Did I really have to preface the story with this admission? Would any of this blog be here if I thought like most people? I must redress.

**Again with stating the obvious.

Thursday, August 19, 2010

The Visor Is Extra

Because you never seem to have the time to look through those hair magazines at the salon to pick out your ideal do, I've coined and patented the haircut term for you.
Observe and Appreciate: The Star Wars Helmet.

Don't thank me now, my birthday is in a few months...

In other news, last week Griffin told me he broke his head. I said, "What?" And he said, with exasperated efficiency, "I head". So, of course I told him, as any good parenting award recipient would, "Well, if you think it hurts now, wait till your first hangover".

In other other news, you should definitely watch Anthony Bourdain's Rome episode from Monday night. If you don't want to rip your tv down off the wall/stand and eat it during this episode I don't know what is wrong with your brain, but there are plenty of neurologists who would take your money to find out. Maybe they'll even ask you to donate your brain to science afterward. (Although, I had to work on those things in nursing school and let's just say body donation is not on my list of top ten things I have to do before I die and go to Bora Bora.) Just saying.

In unrelated other news, we had a family vaca to Salt Fork Lodge last weekend and it was awesome. Pics to come, when I decide that uploading photos is more important than ridding this city of fried foods one french fry at a time after work today. It's a dirty job...

Friday, August 6, 2010

The One & Only

Like 61 ounces of Gazillion Bubbles aren't part of your daily make up routine?

Get Out the Retractors!

It's not often that I issue retractions on statements I've made, written, or even those I've imagined making or writing (ask my husband if you doubt me). But today marks a day in history, my friend(s). I have eaten my words for lunch and they were f-ing delicious.

It's all about a jolly fellow named Mr. Softee, and how I once tarnished his good name with slanderous accusations regarding his product. I've discussed my feelings with several people over the years and in recent discussions had decided to give him one chance at redemption. (Either that or my ass has decided to take up a mind of its own and is in a breakneck race to overcome the size of NY state as fast as possible by way of dessert consumption. ((A very definite possibility))).

So. I planned the rendevous for several days and finally took the plunge earlier this afternoon with a vanilla cone dipped in chocolate. People. If you ever see someone rolling around the streets of Washington Heights with no regard for public decency but completely overcome by her consumption of a chocolate dipped ice cream cone, it's me. Stop and say hi. Just don't take any pictures. My agent would totally crap.

I'm a much happier person right now than two hours ago, thanks to Senor Softee, and my entire workplace is much appreciative of his efforts. Especially since earlier I decided to go door to door down the hallway ranting about the men's toilet overflowing for the bazillionth time and why can't they fix it right and who is dumping in there and causing all the problems, I know it's you Construction Man, you're fooling NO ONE.

So, I retract my earlier insults and urge you to visit your neighborhood Mr. Softee as soon as you humanly can. Or you know, whenever.