st. john the divine
if you work in a large office building, you have a favorite bathroom stall. don't deny it, there's one that you almost always use for some reason or another. the one closest to the door - laziness/hurry. the furthest one - maximum privacy. personally, my favorite is the third from the back because the door frame is tight enough that the door stays closed so i don't have to slide the lock in place. then i can both open and close the door with my foot, without having to touch anything that may have been previously touched prior to handwashing (yes, completely motivated by paranoia). however, sometimes there are cataclysmic circumstances that prevent the usage of said favorite toilet. and honestly, i get a little crushed every time that happens. mostly disgusted, but still slightly disheartened. so anyway, the point of all of this inanity: this morning my choice loo was unusable. this afternoon, it was back to its normal sparkling self. someone must have manned up to ridding that stall of "dear god that's disgusting!" so this bud's for you, ms. vomit-worthy-toilet-flusher. you are indeed a real woman of genius.
mr. mumbles
there's a guy i know who's notoriously known for mumbling. i realized today that he repeats everything he says at least twice because the common response to anything he says is "what?"
mumbling is for people who are lazy talkers, right? so, theoretically, wouldn't repeating everything be more work than enunciation? just a thought...
(note: good call jack - remember when you were my planner? well now you're my dictionary too)
your name is michael bolton?
joshua brewster bolten, man of the moment:
[from the ny times] He grew up in establishment Washington, the son of a C.I.A. officer, and graduated from the elite St. Albans School, former Vice President Al Gore's alma mater.
As White House budget director, he amused his 500-member staff by renaming his weekend rock band Deficit Attention Disorder for a performance at the Office of Management and Budget...so what you're saying is that he's a huge party animal? kegger in the diplomatic reception room!
spluh
to the old chinese woman who cut me off and then proceeded to walk like molasses up the stairs... just because you're old and chinese doesn't mean i won't yell at you. in my blog. because i'm totally passive aggressive like that.
to the teenyboppers who are singing outside my building... shut it. i'm trying to work here. and by work i mean nap under my desk.
waste of life
i am officially doing less work than the intern. who comes in 3 days a week. today he designed an ad, attended meetings, and worked on a photoshoot. today i did my taxes and read the new york times. oh and i also organized my itunes.
overeducated and underemployed. this is what happens to business school graduates who want to work in the media.
weather or not
is small talk more important than silence? if so, why must everyone turn to the ever prevalent topic of the weather? are you really that into meteorology? must a topic that cannot be affected really be discussed? or do we just operate on a level of intelligence akin to "hey, the sky sure is blue today" and "yessir, storm's a brewin' cuz i feel it in my bones"? why can't we talk about
new breakthroughs in biotechnology or
the genocide in sudan or
the fact that other school subjects are being cut to satisfy the reading and math component of no child left behind? and yes, i realize that my previous post was about judging the cuteness of puppies. don't worry, my foot is permanently attached to the inside of my mouth.
you're dog is a loser
because you have absolutely nothing better to doyou're reading my blog... think about that one.
surprised you didn't know that (smack smack smack)
i believe only k1 will understand that one
news, as told by one really bored girl at work:
nick lachey is the new michael douglas
shake shack is the new bitter cold
march madness is the new girls don't exist for 2 weeks
gm is the new crapbucket
9 to 9 is the new 9 to 5
trader joes is the new black
barron is the new sean preston
cropped jacket is the new cropped jacket
some guy i just saw in the elevator is the new george clooney (seriously, so hott)
gawker stalker is the new sitting on your ass and doing nothing
and of course the classic...
pink is the new blogwerd.
forest fever
i'm wearing clogs and cords today. and running around the entire building. so everywhere i go, it soulds like a horse chasing a racoon. i'm a wreck.
happy equinox
go balance and egg. and when you're done, break, poach and consume with garlic and parmesan toast.
and on a completely different note, anyone want to go boarding/skiing next weekend (4/1)?
what's that meow?
i'm back from vacay. how was it, you ask? well, i'll tell you in fairy tale form:
there once was a stressed out new yorker that desperately needed a vacation. she went to hawaii. it rained every day. the end.
yeah.
bizarro
it's 70 degrees. the sun is shining. everyone is happy, i mean actually legitimately can't stop smiling even though my house just burned down and i just saw someone kick a puppy happy. this is new york on the first day of faux spring. weird.
last night
i dreamed i was a mathematician. then, using the powers of numbers combined with flying roundhouse kicks, i saved new york city from brain sucking aliens who looked like tom cruise. but i was a total jerk about it.
what does that mean?
i would blame it on the culmination of project runway, but that really doesn't make sense.
do the dew
snowboarding in times square. this is why i heart new york.
diet mountain dew is doing a stunt right outside my building. they've set up a rail and a box for a bunch of snowboarders to ride. apparently shaun white is down there too. it's totally awesome, but it's not going to make me drink neon green water.
another countdown
t minus 14 for trader joes in manhattan.
i believe that warrants a "yeah baby!"
everybody now!!
(that's your cue to say it too)
final countdown
no, not
this or
thatbut
THISthat's right, i used caps. and all for you, bethdarling.
a very snappy birthday indeed. wish i were there to help you ring in the 25th year of your existence.
here's to an ass kickin' weekend of kickin' ass. whose ass, you ask? well that's your choice. you're the one with the birthday.
but then i got high
so i come home last night around 11pm to find my roommate crazy on ambien. if you're not familiar with this prescription sleep aid, it makes you totally kevin spacey for about 30 minutes before you crash.
so seconds after i get in the door, she comes stumbling up to me, hands me a jar of curry and says, "heeeeyyyyy... look at this curry." and then whispers, "do you think i should make it?"
i, being the somewhat saner of the two, say "um, no."
to which she retorts, "really? but i just bought all this chicken!" (actually pronounced "schickhen").
so despite my attempts to rationalize away the curry, she starts to make it. just to make sure she didn't pass out on the stove, i sit in the kitchen and pretend to read the rolling stone while she bangs things around for the next 20 minutes. first, the chicken goes into the pan. then comes the olive oil, salt, pepper and curry. after about 10 minutes, the epiphanies come rolling in.
"eggplant?" she asks me.
"takes too long to cook," i say, not wanting to see her cut her finger off while trying to dice the beast of an aubergine that has been sitting in the fridge for over a month.
"carrots? raisins? how 'bout this red pepper?" she slurs out.
"yeah sure," i answer, with very. obvious. hesitance.
she doesn't take the hint. half a bag of baby carrots, two handfuls of raisins and a pre-cut (thank god) red bell pepper go into the mix. at this point she's leaning on the counter, staring intently into the curry concoction (that's now becoming more of a tagine). note: i have been following her around, closing the refridgerator door, putting things away, making sure she doesn't run into any corners, etc.
i walk away for a minute to brush my teeth (an excuse not have to taste it when she's done) and come back to find her trying to cut the pieces of chicken still in the pan. i actually could hear the lovely metal on metal sound over my electric toothbrush. i wanted to yell at her but she looked so peaceful, running the knife back and forth over the frickin chicken and then straight into my eardrums. (for those who know me, it wasn't just the noise - it was also the fact that she was digging into the non-stick surface of the pan, and thus destroying it).
and then the ambien told her she was done. she turns the burner off, looks at me, says "goodnight", walks into her room and shuts the door.
12:05am - i cover the curry with foil. d.o.a.
you know this boogie is for real
i scream, you scream, we all scream for
napoleon dynamiteyou tube is taking over america.
this ain't no disco
this ain't no country club either...
madonna hits coachella this year.
what?
yeah. that's what i said.
so weird.
so... jealous.
walking in a winter
snowglobe. seriously. it's pretty insane out there.
bundle up kiddies.
