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!