Dispatch from Bike School

It's Summer Streets in Manhattan, which means that for three Saturdays in August, a few miles of avenue are closed to traffic and open to bicyclists, runners, walkers, loiterers, etc.

They are also offering free bike lessons for adults and kids.

Now, I don't know if I mentioned this before, but I don't know how to ride a bike. (No, really, I never learned when I was a kid.) I had my first bike lesson in Minnesota last summer, and figured that I might as well have lesson #2 this year. (I realize that at this rate, I will finally be riding a bike around age 56 or so.)

Overall, I think the lesson went well. They took the pedals off the bikes so we could work on our balance and coasting. We went back and forth over a stretch of slightly sloping road in front of the courthouse. I had my good moments where I felt like I was getting the hang of it. And then there were the other moments where I was not getting the hang of it. I didn't graduate up to pedals. I probably could have, but I didn't want to rush it. I think with a few more lessons, I'll actually be able to ride a bike.

HOWEVER, the biggest lesson learned today? Biking hurts like a mother. The bike seat is not kind to one's tenders. Especially when one is shifting their weight back and forth while learning to ride a bike. I hurt. I suspect I will still hurt tomorrow (wimper.)

From the desk of the only Fortune Cookie in the U.S.

I've seen this site before, but it's given me endless entertainment today: http://www.howmanyofme.com/search/

According to this site, there is only one person in the U.S. with my name. I am going to assume that they are referring to me.

Strangely enough, a few of my friends were listed as not 1, but "1 or fewer" in the U.S. That seems to minimize their significance, especially as we know that each is a solid, full-fledged (and quite wonderful) person. With the right to vote, to boot. Perhaps they are not a +1, but they are unquestionably a 1.

White Castle + Blood Donations = Not Okay

Just saw this new announcement on my work's intranet page:

During the summer months there is a critically need for blood products. Please take the time to schedule an appointment. Win a "free" coupon from White Castle for a burger, chicken, or fish sandwich when you donate in August.

I mean, really? I realize there is a great need for blood donations and I'm happy to give up a pint. But aside from the typo in the announcement, we work at a hospital and they are giving out free White Castle? Gross. There's not even a White Castle anywhere in the vicinity. AND, you can win a free coupon--that doesn't mean you'll definitely get one.

Regardless, I don't think it is part of eating right 4 my type anyway.

Addendum: HMH also noted that to add insult to injury, a White Castle burger only costs, like, 23 cents. Now I feel particularly valued for my blood donation.

NOT a True New Yorker

I went to the TimeOut NY website today in search of some good summery activities. The website is not the most user-friendly (read: too much stuff, yet not easy to find) and I got distracted when I came across the "Are You a True New Yorker" quiz.

I am a sucker for personality tests.

Now, I have lived here for the past 15 years. I like to think that I've been around the city block a few times. I was not concerned about my New York-ness. Hell, I lived here during 9/11, the blackout, the transit strike, that guy with the tiger in his apartment and before Williamsburg was completely overrun with dirty looking hipsters. Even before Target came to the 5 boroughs, for god's sake.

After answering all of the questions (and there were several pages of them), what was the verdict?

I was one step above a tourist.

WHAT!?

Needless to say, I was deeply offended. I mean, really, WTF?

Here's a sampling of questions:

• Have personal waterbug and rat horror story. CHECK.
• Be unable to leave the house in the morning without watching NY1. (I heart Pat Kiernan.) CHECK.
• Adopt a piece of furniture you found on the street. CHECK.
• Go to the Bronx for something other than a baseball game. CHECK. (shout out to SMark in SoBro!)

Those are fair questions, right? Well, I think these are the ones that demoted me to almost a tourist:

• Order what the people sitting at the next table in the Chinese restaurant are having—without knowing what it is. I'm Chinese, I know what the hell to order. IN CHINESE, IF NEEDED.

• Buy an umbrella that's just gone up in price to $10, and then leave it in a cab. Point #1: See above regarding NY1. Which means that I watch the weather on the 1s. So I know when it's going to rain and thus bring an umbrella. Or use the one I keep at work just in case, thus avoiding the need to buy an overpriced, poor quality umbrella from a man selling them out of a grandma cart. Point #2: I don't leave shit in cabs. I always look back as I'm exiting.

• Be approached by a heroin addict on a bicycle pretending to be a PA on a commercial shoot who has no money to get to work—and be impressed enough with his hustle that you don't mind forking over 15 bucks. Again, I must exclaim, WTF!?
  

Worm Update: Harvesting Worm Excrement

Well, the time had come to harvest compost from the worm bin. It's been many months since I first got the worms. We had our ups and downs and a few casualties along the way. Luckily there were no tears, at least not on my end. Harvesting compost is not quite as straight forward as people make it seem. Sure, there's a good amount of compost in my bin, but there are also worms that are very sloooooooow (or perhaps just resistant) in moving over to the other end of the bin, and there are bits of newspaper and things that aren't fully decomposed. It took a little extra time to clean it up, but I got some!














I know it's technically worm poop, but this stuff smells really good, like the best kind of soil you can find. I mixed it up with regular soil and put it as a top layer of some of my plants. I am a little nervous since over-fertilizing can easily burn plants to death, but I am hoping this will just make my plants even happier than they are now. We should find out in a day or two...

A Good Pencil is Hard to Find

I'll be honest, I don't really want to be at work. It's been a tough few weeks since returning from Road Trip 2008. I've had some serious post-vacation depressive disorder.

One of the things I'm working on at work is an audit. I have forms to fill out and double check against other documents that then get filled into an electronic form. It is as tedious as it sounds, even for someone as OCD as I am.

I decided that it would be best to use a pencil to fill out the forms since I'm not entirely sure what the hell I'm doing. I don't want to commit to ink. But I've realized that it's hard to find a good pencil in the office these days now that I'm no longer in grade school. I started out using one with refillable lead, but the lead kept breaking after every word. Then I tried an old school pencil, but I require a very sharp tip at all times (back to the OCD) and it is counterproductive for me to be sharpening my pencil every 2 seconds.

I looked around in our supply closet and although there were enough post-its to wallpaper my apartment, there was nary a pencil. Finally, my resourceful admin. assistant managed to scrounge up an automatic pencil she had snagged from another department last year. Crisis solved!

Eat Right 4 Your Type

SMM told me about this book, Eat Right 4 Your Type, and how it explains what foods are best for your blood type. It's kind of like reading the description of your zodiac sign: "hard-working," "practical," "magnetic," "confident," "independent" and "hard to resist."

I looked it up today and I have mixed feelings about my results:

Type Bs are "balanced omnivores," with a diet that is balanced and wholesome with a wide variety of foods. Well, thank goodness for that.

It says I should avoid shelfish, which is perfectly fine by me anyway, especially after the flashing-eyed lobster experience.

But then it tells me I should also avoid the following:

• corn (I heart sweet corn)
• chicken (perhaps)
• ice cream (riiiight)
• nuts (this includes peanut butter, which therefore includes Reese's peanut butter cups, which therefore is never going to happen)
• all wheat products (#%*?!)
• tomatoes (on the fence about this one: I'd survive without salsa)
• avocado (ah, guacamole!)
• tofu (for god's sake, I'm ASIAN)
• corn syrup (which I know I should avoid, but I can't help it)
• distilled liquor (for real? but UNdistilled liquor is acceptable?)

Honestly, I don't think I'll be giving up any of the above. I hope this doesn't affect my being "magnetic" and "hard to resist."

Salmonella hometownus

There's an outbreak of salmonella going on in 17 states right now, caused by raw tomatoes. The serotype guilty for the 167 known cases is Salmonella Saintpaul. Any GI outbreak is terrible and I totally sympathize with all of the local health departments out there--there is only so much poop a person can take. I just like that it's named after my hometown. Maybe even more so because there haven't been any cases in St. Paul. Or in New York, for that matter.

http://www.cdc.gov/salmonella/saintpaul/

Cute items of the day

My friends know my interests very well: cupcakes, bunnies and mini-donks. Aaron likes to send me "items of the day" related to said interests.

Some examples:




































This last one is a cake shaped like a giant cupcake. He got me the cake mold to make my own oversized cupcake.

Worm Update: Escape from Elsatraz

Well, the worms' productivity level seems to be diminishing. There doesn't appear to be any more compost than there was a month ago. And last week I was in a bit of a panic because the worms were escaping.

Not in droves or anything. That would be really gross and straight out of a B movie. But every day for a week there were 1-3 dried up worm carcasses on my kitchen floor. (Still gross, I know.)

I tried researching causes online but nothing was particularly helpful. Basically, if the worms are unhappy they will try to leave the bin. Well, that's pretty obvious. But the bin could be too wet or too dry, too hot or cold, or they don't like what they are being fed. None of these seemed to apply, but I suspect the worm population grew since I started things and I wasn't feeding them enough. The little guys were hungry.

Now I feed them twice a week and there have been zero casualties/escapees since.

A Donut Tragedy

This made me very sad to see:
















All of those little Munchkins wasted!!!

Happy 2nd Birthday e-money!

Theater Poseurs Anonymous

There are certain things I'll do for money, and pretending to be an avid fan of Broadway theater is one of them. Sure, I like theater--Shakespeare? I'm there. Anything with Patrick Stewart? Make it so. Musicals? Once a year and only when someone is visiting from out of town (and tickets are less than $50.)

Tonight I took part in a focus group on Broadway theater. I figured I could shoot the shit about theater for an hour and earn myself a cool fifty bucks cash. I've been to focus groups before and they usually irritate me. It's always a weird group of people I normally wouldn't be friends with, but could totally be part of an ensemble cast for a very bad horror movie where we each get killed off in a Midtown office building by a disgruntled temp. Regardless, I was totally out of my league--these women were hardcore theater people (note: I wouldn't have been surprised, but would have had a meltdown, if anyone started singing showtunes.) It seemed like these people spent all of their time and money on going to see shows. This was a subculture I knew nothing about. We fear what we don't understand.

Having said that, I've been trying to decide if I relate more to weird worm composting workshop attendees who can't listen or weird theater fanatics who talk incessantly about shows. It's kind of a toss-up, but I'm going to have to go with the worm people.

Worm Update: Making Black Gold

It's been about a month since I started my worm composting bin. So far, so good! There were a few fatalities during the initial days while everyone was settling in (evident by the 3 dried up worm carcasses I found), and I am not entirely sure how they escaped. But other than that, the worms seem happy. I feed them weekly and I try to give them a variety of food. I suspect they would be perfectly fine with salad greens every time, but I try to mix it up. It's the least I can do after harassing them on a daily basis--I like to check in on them and make sure they didn't all die on me. It's very therapeutic. Kind of like how you would pet your dog or bunny to decompress after a long day, except I poke around at my bin of worms. They are more like pets than little compost-making servants.

Most importantly, they are making compost (a/k/a Black Gold)!!! I am very excited. I think my plants are going to be so happy when I can finally use it. And I have a growing list of people who want some of the goods.












compost!

Resignation

I received a forwarded email from a high school friend of mine in which someone inquired after our high school reunion, along with an accusation that I was shirking my duties.

This is where I should disclose that I was actually senior class president in high school. I know, I know, totally embarrassing and lame. Obviously, I didn't really think through my future responsibilities with that position and was more interested in collecting yet another title for my college applications.

Luckily, I am not in contact with many people from high school, except for Dirty (but wild horses couldn't drag him to reunion anyway) and the one who forwarded me that email. Essentially, I am off the grid.

But for the record, I am officially resigning as senior class president. I feel that someone who has more school spirit (Go Scots!)--and interest--should plan our next high school reunion. I planned AND attended my first (and last) reunion and that was enough for me. I remember faux-cooing over endless pictures of children, barely recognizing people in their weight gain, using the bathroom as an excuse to get out of awkward conversation with my former best friend, and being told that I "used to be so nice in high school." I guess I wouldn't get elected senior class president if there was a re-vote. I'm not sure if that's better or worse than my friend who got "Wow, you're so nice. You were such a bitch in high school."

Sigh.

Off-setting my carbon footprint one worm at a time

So. I have started an indoor worm composting bin. I went to a workshop about it at the public library last week. There were a surprisingly large number of people at the workshop and they were pretty much what you would expect people at a worm composting workshop to be like. Except they were were a little weirder and NOT good listeners. There must have been at least 3 people who asked questions which the presenter had already gone over and was also reiterated in the pamphlets they gave out.

Regardless, here are some pics of my first day of composting:
































Basically, you take a box and drill air holes into it. Put lots of shredded damp newspaper (bedding) in. Throw in half a pound of red wiggler worms and there you go. I gave them a day to settle in and this morning I fed them some lettuce. Supposedly, it will take them a few weeks and then voila! I will have plenty of compost to keep my plants happy.

Oh yes, and my garbage (and carbon footprint) will be reduced since I'll be throwing all of my fruit & vegetable waste in with the worms.

OMG, MEATBALLS!!! redux

The Third Annual Meatball Cookoff was held last weekend, and there were more contestants (and meatballs) than ever before. The prizes included trophies and the specially designed belt buckle.





























This year's roster included:

• Aarons Balls
• Big Bill
• The Sloan Rangers
• White Trash & the Mexican
• No Country for Old Meatballs
• Oh Susannah, Don't You Cry for Meatballs
• Puerto Rican Express
• Spooky Booty
• Jersey City

It was a tough competition, and the two-time champion got ousted in the first round. He was devatasted.

Final results:

• Winner, judging rounds: Jersey City
• Winner, audience favorite: No Country for Old Meatballs (our very own Dirty Cookie)
• Ultimate winner in the final meatball taste-off: No Country for Old Meatballs

Congratulations to the 2008 Meatball Champion!

The flu that keeps on giving

I have been sick for over 3 weeks (but it feels like a lifetime--I've been learning to live with my disability). There have been 3 phases of illness, for each of the 3 weeks:

1. Pain, fatigue and fever


2. Cough and phlegm


3. Congestion and copious amounts of snot (a/k/a more phlegm, just exiting my body by different means)
   

So during this time, I hit rock bottom. I went through numerous bottles of cough medicine. I found myself going home after work every day only to lay on my couch and watch bad television. I got sucked into American Idol. Even worse, I was watching the AI recap show on TV Guide channel. Yes, the TV Guide Channel. I also craved cherry Jello. I hadn't had Jello in years. I found great comfort in the stuff.

Anyway, I'm slowing inching towards a recovery and have resumed my social life. Although, while out, I still think about being home and watching TV. I plan to spend the remainder of my convalescence in Puerto Rico, where the warm sea air will do me good. Mojitos and plaintains can't hurt either.

The case of the haunted hair dryer

The other night I woke up at 1:44am to a constant high pitched buzzing noise. I am no Nancy Drew, but the noise was really annoying so I got up and went into my bathroom to investigate. My hair dryer had somehow turned on (I leave it plugged in, but I know it wasn't on when I went to bed that evening) and apparently it had been on long enough to warm my bathroom by an additional 10 degrees or so.

Very weird.

I flicked the switch a few times until I was sure it was off and went back to bed.

Just as I was falling back asleep, I heard the hair dryer turn back on.

Now we're talking freaky.

I got up again, unplugged the blasted thing and brought it into the bedroom with me. It took me a while to get back to bed afterwards as I pondered the cause of this anomaly: I figured it must have been caused by a weird power surge or something. The hair dryer is pretty old too. Because if it was an intruder, why style your hair before robbing/attacking me? And if it was something of paranormal origin, why not turn the TV on instead? Or the lights?

Invertebrates, ew

It's simple, I don't eat animals without a spine (read: most seafood.) This is one of the main reasons I don't fancy Chinese wedding banquets, which are about 10 courses of invertebrate goodness. I had the pleasure of attending one of these recently.

Here are some of the dishes served:














First course: lobster-slaw. Yeah, you heard me right. Lobster-slaw. Chunks of lobster mixed in with honeydew melon, cantaloupe and globs and globs of mayonnaise. Globs. And if you notice the two maraschino cherries protruding on either side of the lobster's head, they are not the same color because they were also FLASHING LIGHTS. Yep, flashing lights.

Could it be those flashing lights that made me nauseous, or the lobster slaw?















Second Course: Miscellaneous Seafood Platter. Those red things in the forefront are little be-tentacled creatures, possibly calamari. Honestly, those little guys almost pushed me over the edge. The noodle-y looking stuff in the middle is jellyfish. Not exactly sure what the cubed stuff to the left is. And on top is fried pork skin & fat.

We only stayed for two more courses: the gelatinous brown seafood soup with mysterious white bits (crab, perhaps?) and the slices of abalone covered in brown sauce.

Since I knew to expect an all seafood-all evening extravaganza, I made sure to eat some pizza beforehand. Which means that during the banquet, all I did was drink wine. Did I mention we were seated at the head table, up on a stage in front of the 100 or so other guests? I tried to look like I ate a little bit hoping no one got the (wrong) impression that I was the anorexic drunk relative. But that didn't matter once the Chinatown mafia MC and DJ crew got the party started and I saw middle-aged Chinese men put on pink felt cowboy hats and dance with imaginary lassos.

The important thing was that the bride and groom looked very happy and the groom did not remove her garter with his teeth.

Worst Case Scenario: Junk in the Trunk

I've watched my fair share of action movies (Live Free or Die Hard, anyone?), and I've read several How-to's on surviving a kidnapping and other dangerous situations (windmill your arms and run in a zig-zag formation!). They always tell you that if you're stuck in the trunk of a car to either kick out the tail light and wave your hand to alert other cars you're in there or in newer models, to use the escape latch to open the trunk. Sure, that sounds easy enough, but does it really work?

We had the opportunity to test the latter method: we were in a parking garage in Philly and as we dropped off our bags in the trunk of the rental car we told Jamie to get in and test out the latch. As always, he was game:






















You'll all be happy to know that the safety latch does indeed work, and Jamie made it out alive and well. Whew.

Searching for Kicks

Last night I decided it was high time to get a new pair of black slip-on Vans since my current pair have seen better days. I couldn't find them online, so I figured I'd score in any of the stores along Broadway in SoHo since about every third store sells shoes. Instant gratification and no shipping costs!

Just a little blood, sweat and tears instead.

I swear, I went into EVERY SINGLE shoe store on Broadway and could not find them. Either they didn't have my size or they only had patterned ones, which did me no good.

Frustrated, I stopped by to see the niece and nephew and have some dinner. As I am leaving their building, what do I see? An empty Vans box someone had discarded on the sidewalk.

Salt on the wound, my friends. Salt on the wound.

However, something compelled me to check in this tiny store right next to the subway entrance. LO AND BEHOLD, they actually had my size! And for cheap! The guy said they just got a shipment in that day. I told him he had just made my day. I considered buying two pairs, but I thought that might be excessive.

The moral of the story is that good triumphs over evil. Okay, maybe not, but at least I have a new pair of kicks!

Fact of the day

It takes 3 kernels of corn to make the corn syrup used in one kernel of candy corn.

Also, totally unrelated to candy corn (as far as I know), but something I just read: men are 12 times more likely to be bitten by another human than women.

Miscellaneous Tidbits

1. Maddog sees a kiwi fruit on the kitchen counter and says to my sister, "Mommy, that's a really hairy potato!"

That made me laugh.

2. I went to the IT Expo at work and got a lot of free goodies, including this one:

I think it kind of looks like me. In scrubs and with shorter hair. And no lipstick. And fatter. FINE. At least they are trying to represent Asians, okay? Christina said it looked like a man. I wasn't exactly clear on whether she was implying I looked like a man also or that I did not look like the squishee toy. I'd like to think that I'm prettier than the squishee toy and that I do not look like a man, but it's the closest thing I have to a toy looking remotely like me.

Turn the Lights Out on Fat

The other night the light in my kitchen went out. My ceilings are a little high and changing the bulb requires dragging the kitchen table into the center of the room and climbing up on it to reach the light socket (Yes, I could just buy myself a ladder. But why bother when you can stack up the furniture you already have???). It was dark out so I figured I'd wait until it was daytime to do it. My dishes could easily wait another day.

Well, my kitchen was so dark I couldn't properly scavenge for any evening snacks. This made me realize I was onto something: the darkness diet. You can't find the food so you won't eat it! My friend D suggested I write a diet book entitled something like "Turn the Lights Out on Fat."

BRILLIANT! Along with my mini-donk farm, I will soon become a billionaire. Well, except for people who snack during daylight hours and sleep-snackers...

Airplane Safety

This past weekend I went back to the Land o'Lakes for a visit with some of my partners in crime. They loved MN. Plus, nothing untoward happened like last year (see previous entries regarding the immigration police bust).

The flight home was delayed so we entertained ourselves by reading the airplane safety card. Here are a few things that we found particularly hilarious:


What to do when a magician/Abe Lincoln wannabe is chasing you on the plane.


















How ballerinas brace themselves for emergency landings (see figure to the far right.)

The unexpected

I've had a few entries in the past about Vincent, a/k/a BFF bartender. We had spent almost a whole year's worth of Wednesday night happy hours with him. Then he got fired and we stopped going to that bar. In fact, we stopped having Wednesday night happy hour. It became more sporadic and we never found a good replacement bar where we wanted to become regulars.

Well, last night Christina and I thought we'd stop by the old bar and see if we could find some information about BFF's whereabouts. Some might call this stalking. But is it really stalking if it's about 4 months later?

Anyways, there were numerous scenarios we were prepared for:

1. BFF was actually back and peeved we've been away for so long
2. One of the other bartenders we knew would be there knowing BFF's whereabouts
3. No one we knew would be working there

None of the above occurred: the place is now closed down for good and is being converted into some sort of restaurant/deli. This was totally unexpected. We were in shock.

And so, it is officially the end of an era. Sniff, sniff.

Found: Scary Items in the Foyer

People leave stuff downstairs in my building's foyer all the time. I've found some really good items there, like brand new David Sedaris books with the receipts still in them and a small wood table. But usually it's crap like old clothes, textbooks from 1983, and such.

And tonite I saw this piece of absolute horror:














Which leads me to ask: who the hell would actually put this creepy clown art in their apartment? I think it would give me nightmares. In fact, I think it will give me nightmares...

minidonk!

I would like one of these, please. Plus an acre of land.

Thank you.

















http://www.minidonk.com/

FWD:

Like most normal people, I'm not a big fan of forwarded email. No one wants the million dollar Neiman Marcus chocolate chip cookie recipe and there's not way that I'm going to get money from Microsoft if I forward an email onto 85 people. And I am certainly not going to help some person in Africa get his millions of dollars from a frozen bank account (or whatever that particular scam is).

Anyways, I get one today from a friend of mine, and of course I open it because every once in a while there's something funny or useful. This one was for Saint Theresa's prayer. You make a wish, read the prayer and then forward the email onto 12 people and your wish will come true in 4 days. Also, why in four days? (Four is a particularly inauspicious number in Taiwan.) I'd think there would be a lot more people winning the lottery if it actually worked, no? So here's a line from the email that I don't understand:

Did you make a wish yet? If you don't make a wish, it won't come true.

If I'm not mistaken, I never made a wish in the first place, so why the hell would I expect it to come true since it doesn't even exist? Hmmm...

Mama said knock you out!

My brother-in-law bought a Wii this weekend. They soon discovered that MadDog is a lean, mean, almost-five-year-old fighting machine. Apparently, she totally kicks ass in the boxing game and knocked out her opponent in the first round. We won't be entering her into the Thunderdome or anything like that anytime soon, but perhaps for her upcoming birthday I'll get her one of those satin robes that boxers wear, maybe embroider something like BEWARE OF THE MADDOG! on the back.

























note: the pictures are blurry because MadDog was just moving too fast!

The aftermath of travel

And so I am back from a-travelin'! It was a fabulous trip, both fun and relaxing, but now I am suffering from the effects of jet lag (yes, it is 2:30AM and I just woke up.) It seems such a waste when, after 2-weeks of vacation, you have to take a 15 hour flight to come back to a 12-hour time difference. There's never been much of a problem with jet lag going to the motherland, the problem has always been coming back. Supposedly it takes one day recovery for every hour of time difference. I wouldn't have believed that until last year when my jet lag seemed to be worsening day after day, until finally correcting itself after two weeks of benadryl-induced (okay, let's admit it, there was a little alcohol involved on some evenings too) sleep.

I will also admit that when jet-lagged, I become slightly obsessed with the amount of sleep I get and the hours I keep. I can't help it. It becomes the overwhelming topic of my life. So apologies in advance to all of you who will hear me complain about it for the next 2 weeks...

Out of Office Reply

Hello,
I will be out of this blog from Thursday, March 23 through April 9th. If this is an urgent matter, please go to http://fortunetravels.blogspot.com

Thank you,
Fortune Cookie

Seafood -- for a better life

I have seen this ad all over the subways and it disturbs me to no end (and not just because I don't eat invertebrates and the thought of eating anything found in NYC waters seems unhealthy):

www.nyseafood.com

Healthy Beginnings

So this mother fish is carrying a cell phone and she is carting her baby fish around in a fish bowl. They all look happy. But aren't all of these fish going to die and be eaten by us?

Strong Bodies

I'm sorry, is it me, but is that lobster running along the Brooklyn Esplanade? In running shorts?

Smart Minds

That crab is typing away on a laptop. Enough said.

Long Lives

WTF?! They are trying to get us to eat more seafood. These fish are not going to live long.

What a gross misrepresentation of sea creature's lives.

Dear Tenant,

I am a good tenant. My rent is never late, I don't complain much, and I've never set fire to my apartment or the building. But for some reason, every time I get a letter from my landlord, I am overcome with dread. There's no reason I should be concerned about being evicted, and there's no legal way they can suddenly increase my rent by 500%. But the anticipation is worse than opening a college acceptance letter.

I have issues. I know.

And of course, the letter is always something benign like a notice about the new intercom system or garbage cans.

Sigh.

____________________________________________

Totally unrelated story:

I was meeting a friend for a drink before the opera (so cultured, no?) and got to the bar first. The only open seat at the bar was next to this 40-something dude drinking a beer. I go up to the seat and take my coat off. The man says to me "I know who is going to be voted off American Idol tonite." I feign polite interest. I may have thrown out a mildly patronizing "Good for you."

I order my whiskey. He attempts again. "I know all FOUR (holds up four fingers) of the contestants who will be voted off." I look at him blankly. And consider sending my friend a quick "GET HERE ASAP. PLZ!" text. He says, "...but you don't really care, do you? You don't watch American Idol?" No.

I open my book and after one final attempt ("Let me ask you one last question and I promise to leave you alone...") he finally left me alone, finished his beer and left.

The moral of the story : do not randomly use lame ass references to popular TV to talk to strangers.

Missing! (Again!)

Dammit.

My, what large optic nerves you have!

I went to the optometrist last night. I got some nice Alain Mikli frames at a sample sale a few months back and really needed to get some lenses into those babies. The optometrist was pretty nice, and the good news is that my already terrible vision has not gotten worse. Whew. HOWEVER, she told me that I have "large optic nerves." WHAT THE HELL DOES THAT MEAN?! For godssake, I've worn glasses since the fifth grade. That's a whole lot of eye exams I've had in my lifetime and not one person has mentioned these monstrously sized optic nerves of mine!? And you'd think that since they are so large, I'd see BETTER not worse, right? SIGH.

And so Miss Optometrist in the crocheted fishnet sweater and ivory wide-wale cords suggested I get my pupils dilated. For the low price of $40 which my insurance doesn't cover. AND, I should go to some other place to get my field of vision tested to make sure my peripheral vision is okay. I'm pretty sure my peripheral vision is just fine since I live in NYC and have senses sharp as razor blades. I pretended I was going to get all of those things done. At a later time.

Oh, and back out in the waiting room, there was this guy sitting there as he waited for his pupils to dilate. He looked pretty unhappy. I may have smirked at him, but he couldn't see me anyway.

P.S. I got those new lenses. Ultra-thin. Ultra-expensive. But I bet I'll sure see really well!

Missing!

Things have been mysteriously disappearing:

Exhibit A: I babysat the kiddies last Friday night, and since I knew I'd be running around chasing them on wood floors, I took my socks off and placed them neatly beside my bag. Dirty Cookie & Sonya came by also. At the end of the evening, I went to put my socks back on and they were missing! I couldn't find them anywhere. My brother-in-law even helped me look for them.

They were not to be found.

Maddog made the following suggestion, " Why don't you look inside your shoes? Sometimes I take my socks off and put them in my shoes." Good advice, but my socks definitely were not in my shoes. I texted Dirty and Sonya in case they "accidentally" stole my socks, but they claimed to have no part in it.

Exhibit B: This morning I meandered over to the office pantry with my green plastic cereal bowl, ready for some snap! crackle! and pop!. I open the fridge (as one of my weird coworkers is asking me about our dental insurance--she obviously doesn't realize that the worst time to talk to me is when I'm scavenging for food) and my carton of milk is missing. WTF?! I recall putting it back in the morning before, and it was still half full.

Two of my coworkers even double checked the fridge for me.

I have no logical explanation for these missing items. But now I have one less pair of socks and I won't be eating any cereal today. Boo.

OMG, MEATBALLS!!!

This past weekend was the Meatball Championship Series, hosted by our very own Aaron (ala Easter Bunny fame).

There were a total of nine contestants, entering various forms of meatballs (standard Italian, Swedish, weird vegetarian, nouveau cuisine, etc). The meatballs were judged in pairs, by a panel of 3 randomly selected judges (I won't go into detail, but we'll just say that some of the judging panels were, er, interesting...).

Winners from each of the four heats went onto the second round. Aaron actually went head to heat, mano a mano, against his very own father. It was a little intense.

And then it came down to the FINAL ROUND: Aaron (traditional) vs. Galapagos (nouveau). And the winner........

Not totally unexpected, but worthy of the meatball trophy.

But wait! There was still the AUDIENCE FAVORITE....

Whew. I hope that prevented any family drama.

Folks, there sure were a lot of meatballs eaten that day. I was actually in Costco the next day and it seemed as if everyone in the store was buying enormous bags of Italian meatballs. It almost made me vomit a little.

The unhappiest of happy hours

Well, our worst fears have been realized:

Last night was Wednesday night happy hour, as usual. But not only was the bar unusually empty on such a cold evening, but BFF was nowhere to be seen and some guy we've never set eyes on before was behind the bar. Suspicions were raised.

So I ordered my drink and asked him where BFF was. He replied along the lines of, "BFF doesn't work here anymore."

Um, excuse me, but WHAT THE HELL DID YOU JUST SAY!?!

We were in shock. So many questions came to mind: When? Why? Was it from all of that free chocolate and booze he was giving us? Did he move on to bigger and better things and didn't think to mention it to us last week? Did all of the other bartenders get fired? What are we going to do on Wednesday nights now? And we were just two weeks shy of our one-year anniversary with BFF. Sniff, sniff.

Well, according to America's Next Top Model, our least favorite bartender from the good ol' days, BFF had an altercation with one of the owners (perhaps because of his business plan for opening his own bar downtown) and got fired this weekend.

Now, I will give ANTM credit because our tab at the end of the night was BFF-worthy. Not sure if she did it out of pity from seeing our devastated faces all evening or in an effort to keep business going.

So, if anyone has a good suggestion for where to go next Wednesday night, they are gladly appreciated!

Return of the colon!

I'm sure you were all waiting with bated breath for my 'scope results. All is well and no more fasting for this cookie for another 5 years!

Afterwards, my sister picked me up and took me to her house, where I proceeded to eat as much as possible to make up for the day of fasting. I have to confess, I ate leftover superbowl snacks for breakfast: buffalo wings, celery and carrot sticks with blue cheese dressing. This was at 9:30am. I continued to eat massive amounts of food, and now I feel a little gross.

Good times!

Eating like there is no tomorrow

I'm going to overshare just a little bit today. I am having a colonscopy early tomorrow morning (no worries, it's just standard screening.) This requires me to fast from 11am until tomorrow. Liquid diet only. And around Superbowl kick-off I will be drinking some disgusting stuff that will totally clean out my system. (Aside: I read somewhere that your large intestine can hold up to 9lbs of roughage at any given time. Ew.)

Anyways, I went to bed late last night, which made me sleep late this morning. But this whole fasting for almost 24 hours has been worrying me. I'm a grazer: I normally eat every 2 hours or so. And I do get hangry. So I forced myself out of bed at 10am this morning just so that I could eat as much as I possibly could in that hour: leftover pizza, a granola bar, some chips, and with 10 minutes left before the fast was to begin, I ran out to get a bagel with cream cheese.

I feel full now (considering the amount of calories I've consumed), but I feel like I should hide all of my food so I don't accidentally eat a whole bag of Sun Chips or something...