Overload

I live in a studio apartment, i.e., one room. I used to have this little table that I got at Crate & Barrel about 10 years ago, and I was so excited because it was from Crate & Barrel and it was cherry and it was grown-up furniture and it had 4 chairs to go with it and I was so proud.

I had that dang table in 5 apartments and in and out of one storage unit, and I started getting bored with it. It had a burn ring from a candle on it, and one of the leaves on the table was a little wobbly, and it had a few knicks after so many years. That and the fact that for the past 3 years I haven't been able to use all 4 chairs 'cause they wouldn't fit in this apartment because it's a studio. So 2 of the chairs have been in the basement for 3 years and now they're all damp and sort of moldy.

I wanted to get a new table, a bigger one so I'd be able to do work on it instead of at my low coffee table, which is where I do everything. I bend over and it hurts my back. I put the table on Craigslist and got 15 offers on it the first day. Sold it for 40 bucks the next day.

So I went to Ikea and got this great table that came with 4 chairs. It looks like something Goldilocks and the Three Bears would use (not at the same time, of course, because Goldilocks went and pulled a breaking and entering, and well, you know the rest). I bought these cushions to go on the chairs, and it's so cute and I love it and...

and what did I think I was going to do, have dinner parties? I got this big old table, and you know what I do with it? Put all my crap from the day on it, and now it looks like this:

At least my coffee table is clean so I can put my feet up while I'm watching TV.

The Return of the Folding Chair

So apparently folding chairs

are not only found at bus stops,

but at your local park, too.

They are quite handy, actually.

Good Deed for the Day

I just helped French tourists. I was putting my trash out for trash day, and there was an older couple standing at my corner with about 5 suitcases of various sizes. They asked me where Beacon Street was, and of course my first response was to panic (in my head, of course). You see, I inherited my mother's panic response whenever I am asked: directions, to introduce someone, or which is left and which is right. All rational thought or sense of direction goes out the window when I am in the aforementioned situations.

In any case, I was able to tell the tourists that Beacon Street was kind of far to drag all their bags, and they'd be better off taking a cab. I called a cab and waited with them. It was 9:00 pm, which was 3 am their time. Found out they were born in Paris (ooh!), but now lived in the South of France (ooh again!). The wife gave me a bag of candy from their area.

I told them I had just seen the new Michael Moore movie about healthcare, and that it seemed like France had great healthcare and I wanted to move there. The husband did all the talking. He said it was still free for the most part, but sometimes they had to pay if they could afford it. This was not their first time in America. They had been to America in 1976, for the bicentennial, woo hoo! They had also been to Cuba. World travelers, these two.

When the cab came, I bid them adieu. I wanted to tell them good luck, and the first phrase that came out of my mouth was, "Bon Marche!" ( the name of a restaurant I used to frequent). I asked the husband if that meant good luck, and he told me it meant cheap food. Oh well. The wife said I should say, "Bon voyage." Duh. I said "Bon voyage" and "Au revoir", and they were off. Hope they got to where they wanted okay.

I love helping foreigners who are lost, because I know the feeling of being somewhere unfamiliar and having someone be nice to you. It's a good feeling.

Does Not Compute

I'm going to buy a new computer. I want a desktop, which is what I've always had. Makes sense to me; the computer goes on the desk. You go to the desk, do your work, and be done with it. Then you go outside and sit on the porch to listen to the birds and read. Go to the park and see your friends and play with children. Go to Starbucks and...drink something! and watch the people.

More than three people have "advised" me to get a laptop instead. "You'll have the option", they say. Option to what? Work outside and not socialize? Tie up a table at Starbucks for hours so the people who come in simply for a cup of coffee and can't sit down?

I will think about it, before the new Mac comes out (oh yes, I'm doing the big switch from a Dell to a Mac, and that's another topic of controversy, I know). I'm not there yet, to the laptop. I want to do my work and enjoy the outdoors, keyboard free.

Make me an arguement for a laptop, I dare ya.

NYC photo fun

Saw these two gals walking down the street in NYC.

What a sight! See how one is wearing the denim on top

and the other is wearing it on the bottom, and the same

with the black, but opposite, so it makes a checker effect?

And the hair, and right down to the shoes, it was just

viusally stunning!

Prince Sing-a-Long

Went to the Prince Sing-a-Long; Diana and I were first in line. The videos were off the hizzook!

First was the contest. The host talked about the hit song, "When Doves Cry." The contest was for each of us to make a sound like a dove crying as it was dying. We weren't supposed to sound like Prince, he emphasized. We were supposed to sound like doves crying. I thought mine was pretty good. It sounded something like, "Coo coo, coo coo, egh!" The guy who won was the last to go, and at the end he threw himself on the stage. Pretty impressive. The prize was a bottle of Gatorade Rain water (Purple Rain), which was spiked with vodka.

Props for the videos included peanuts, which we were to throw during Let's Go Crazy. "Let's go crazy...let's get NUTS!", purple streamers during Purple Rain, and party horns during Cream's, "You've got the horn so why don't you blow it..."

Two hours later I was spent, and at the same time I could have danced all night. Made friends with the host in the parking lot, and got a Princely shot of him. He looked pretty shot, don't you think? Next up: The Pop-Rap Crunk Sing-a-Long in a few weeks!

Potterpalooza...the Day After

It's 8:23 am. I feel like I've been hit by a train going to Hogwart's. I will admit, today, that age definately has an effect on how late one stays up at night. Midnight at 39 is not the same as midnight at 19, that's for damn sure.

I got to the line at 5:30 last night, and I was second, right behind a 6 foot tall Harry Potter look-a-like. He was very friendly, introduced himself as Ari, and was surrounded by about eight of his friends. They were all 8th graders. The joint was jumpin' at the front of the line, and for a long time, that's all it was; the 8th graders and me. Ari had gotten there at 4:00, I got there at 5:30, a friend of Ari's was 3rd in line, and a woman named Robin was 4th, and she got there around 6:30. After that, a big group of friends got in line, and that's when the line really got underway.

After talking to Ari for a little while, we discovered that he attended my school for a summer, and I had actually been one of his teachers! I remembered him, but the 4 year-old Ari I knew was quiet and kept to himself; he was not the personable, self-assured young man giving interviews at the front of the line. It was amazing to see how this kid had blossomed over the years.

At 8:30, there were 150 people in line, and by the time 9:00 rolled around, the line went all the way down the block, around the corner, and down that block too. I was happy to have my place. When we went in at 9:00 to get our numbers, it turned out that they had reserved the first four places for the winners of the character look-a-like contest, so Ari was actually number 5, and I was number 6. No matter; we were in the top 10. Ari was sure to win the contest anyway.

9:00--got our numbers, and we were released for a break until 11:30. What the hell was I going to do for 2 1/2 hours? Well, for one thing, I was having an asthma attack from all the excitement, so I hopped in a cab, went home, got my inhaler, and went back. I wandered around Coolidge Corner in a daze, completely overwhelmed by the crowds. I had never seen so many people in that area at once in all the years I've lived here. Went to the contest, where Ari was the crowd favorite, and was disappointed when he didn't win. We demanded a recount. They awarded prizes to all the little kids. Oh well.

Back in line at 11:30, and the excitement was palpable. The bookstore employees announced ten more minutes, five, and the big 10 second countdown at the end. I got my book, screamed, waved it around, and hopped in a cab to go home. Read the first chapter and went to bed. I'll be reading it until my next event...the Prince Midnight Sing-a-Long...tonight!

Potterpalooza

My local independent bookstore is having an event called "Potterpalooza" to celebrate the last book in the Harry Potter series, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. The book will be sold at midnight tonight. At 9:00 pm, people will get a number that will be your place in line when the selling line starts at 11:00 pm. I'm worried about the line for the 9:00 time, so I want to go to the store now and line up. It's 5:15.

I called the store to ask if I should bring a chair, and the guy on the phone laughed at me. He said there were some teenagers in line already, and just don't bring a big lounge chair. I told him I have many years experience waiting in lines, so I'm prepared.

Water bottle? Check.
Camera? Check.
Buddy who will bring me dinner? Check.
Jacket for when it gets cold later? Check.
Chair? Check.

All set. I'll let you know what happens.

Stormy Weather

Back in January, my storm windows were up and I hadn't noticed until one day it was really cold in my apartment (see Jan. 21st post). I berated myself for not knowing about the storm windows.

Today, July 19, it was hot, so I opened up both of my windows, not just one like I usually do. Figured I'd get a crossbreeze going for the cat while I was at work. Getting ready for bed, I went to close the windows, and I noticed that the window that I don't usually open didn't really feel like it had a breeze flowing through. Upon closer inspection, I saw that the storm window was down. Okay, so, strike two for the fucking storm windows. When they're supposed to be up, they're down, and vice-a versa. I hate storm windows.

BTW, I always close my windows at night, even if it's really hot. I don't want any serial killers coming in. My routine at night is this: As I close my window and prepare to go up to my hot loft bed, I say to myself, "Would you rather be a little hot, or dead?" and the answer is always, "A little hot." Makes sense to me. And no, the air conditioner didn't make it in this summer, and I don't think it will. And no, I don't even have a fan. I don't like fans. I hate the noise they make, and for some reason I have a fear especially of oscillating fans. Never know when that breeze is gonna hit ya.

Call me paranoid with an overactive imagination, but I've woken up alive every day with my system; it works for me.

You Never Know

I was on the Greyhound bus going from NYC to upstate NY, and my seat's right armrest was folded down. I tried pulling it up, but it wouldn't budge. I got frustrated, and the guy behind me helped me out by telling me to pull it out, then up. It worked. "Thanks, I like to have an armrest", I told him.

Perhaps he would have liked to have an armrest too, but it would be of no use to him. See, it just happened that the guy who helped me didn't have a whole arm, only half of one. Oh god, I was so embarassed to notice this. What saved me was that the half of the arm he did have was covered with tattoos, so I asked him if I could look at them. We had a short conversation about tats, and I felt better.

At a NYC Bus Stop

Some kind soul put a folding chair at the bus stop, and one guy actually took advantage of it. People will just have to wait at this bus stop; if you look closely, you'll see the advertisement says, "No Reservations."

If you can't afford Fantastik...

Try the knockoff, Fabulous!

And Then There's This

A six-pack and a bag from Victoria's Secret. Someone had a good time in the parking lot of Trader Joe's.

Can't Even Think of a Title For This One

Can you? Let it be known that this shower
curtain was pure in the package.

Yabba Dabba Doo!

Here's a nightstand that my dad picked up somewhere. Doesn't it look like it should be on The Flintstones?

A New Record

I always look to see when Christmas trees get thrown away, and am amazed at how long some of them hang on. I believe the last Christmas tree I posted was some time around March. Well, believe it or not, I saw one the other day on July 15, a new record for me.

A guy was going back and forth, back and forth from his place, throwing away all manner of things, including a huge roll of bubble wrap and the tree. After a couple of minutes I asked him what was going on. "So, just cleaning up?" I asked. "Something like that." he replied. "Break up?" I said sympathetically. "Yeah", he said. I left him to his business and got the shot.

correction

My cousin Amy (yes, Amy, I said you were my cousin, it sounds rude to say my cousin's wife) wrote to say that it's not true that I don't like the sea, she has pictures to prove it. Okay, there is one thing I like about the sea, and that is taking pictures of the sea or being photographed at the sea. BUT THAT'S IT! Now excuse me while I go eat a muffin...

A Buck A Day

I did this thing where, whenever I had a dollar or two in my wallet at the end of the day, I'd stick it in my giant Hershey's chocolate syrup bank. I was going to open it when there was no more room in the bank and do something special like take a trip around the world, but I decided to open it this morning. It was almost full anyway.

Did it for just a few months, and I had $75 in there! All those singles sure add up. I think the key is to get a giant container that's not see-thru, and you should put it up a little so it's not that easy to get to. Try it! Good luck!

6 weird things about me

My friend Sabine just "tagged" me somehow to post 6 weird/quirky things about myself. Click on "What's New With the Munshis" on the right column to read her blog. I'm not going to tag anyone else, but here are my top 6, since there are many more...

1. I only eat food in small bites. This means I cut everything up into tiny bite-sized pieces, including muffins. For example, first you slice off the top, then cut that into 8 pieces, then you cube up the bottom. Eat the bottom first, because you save the best, the top, for last.

2. Like Sabine, I too only sit in a restaurant facing outwards so I can see what's going on. The only exception to this is that sitting in a booth trumps sitting outwards.

3. I collect cat whiskers and dead bugs.

4. I love to clean lint out of things with a Q-Tip or a toothpick, like the hair from brushes or the vacuum.

5. I dislike the sea; visiting it, eating things from it, or reading about it.

6. I brought in a hairball from my cat to show my preschool kids and passed it off a science lesson.

I'm in Love...

...and his name is Mr. Fluffy.

Now, I know it might seem a tad strange that I would declare my affections for a rooster, but take a look at him. Can you blame me?

Yearnin for an Urn, part deux

We got the ice bucket, ahem, urn, home and cleaned it up with silver polish. It was beautiful! B sawed off the tong holder. The big moment had arrived to put the ashes in the urn. Ashes come in a clear plastic bag inside whatever grade container you get, so all we had to do was put the bag in the bucket. We decided to leave them in the bag because I once heard my dad say that when he died he wanted his ashes and my mom's ashes to be mixed together, which I thought was a very sweet gesture. Even though they separated when I was seven, they were always good friends. When I told my brother about this, his response was, "What about Grandma?" Well, we'd think about that later. For now, we needed to get Dad in his place for the gathering.

K lit some incense a friend had given us, and we turned the TV on to the Opera music channel. Since we are neither religious nor formal, we just awkwardly stood there for a minute, and K said something I don't remember, and B put the bag in the buck...in the urn. We put the urn on the mantel with a rose and some gold leaf.

At the gathering we put up pictures of my dad in chronological order next to the urn, but we didn't make mention of dad's ashes. I figured no one noticed. A couple of days later, I was having lunch with a friend who had been in attendance, and I said in a stage whisper, "You know, my dad's ashes were there the whole time..." and she replied, "You mean in the ice bucket?" Guess it was more noticeable than I thought.

Yearnin for an Urn

Rewind to a couple of weeks ago, when my brother, B, my sister-in-law, K, and I went shopping for an urn to put my dad's ashes in so he would be presentable at the memorial gathering we had for his friends at the apartment.

We have a collection of ashes at my dad's apartment. First, my mom's, which arrived 17 years ago in a golden container that looks like something you'd put flour in in the 1950's. I used to have it in my kitchen, and when my friends asked me what it was, I'd say, "That's my mom." I brought it over to my dad's place when I moved to Japan, because it's illegal to bring ashes overseas. It's been there ever since.

Four years ago my paternal grandmother died, and her ashes came in a kelly green plastic container. Her container went next to my mom's.

It seems with each passing, the containers get a little lower in quality. Poor Dad. His ashes arrived in a white cardboard container that looked eerily similar to a Happy Meal with no advertising. We knew we'd have to get a more suitable container for Dad that would look nice on the mantel and didn't look like it would contain a small plastic toy. We only had one day to shop. We knew we didn't want a typical urn like a vase. We'd all seen the movies where the urn falls and ashes get spilled everywhere. Where could we get a container with a lid? We headed to the first place we thought of: Zabar's, the gourmet kitchen and food store across the street.

The first containers we came across were ice buckets. B and I immediately scoped them out, laughing hysterically about the possibility of Dad's ashes being contained in a bucket with tongs. He was a drinker; wouldn't be a stretch. K looked shocked and at one point it seemed as though she was saying a prayer in Japanese to offset the disrespect we were showing to the dead. Peals of laughter could be heard from me, as I moved over to the section of soup tureens.

We moved around the store, looking at pots, pans, and coffee containers. We found one that was just what we wanted, plain and simple, but it was too small. We decided to leave Zabar's and go to an antique store. On the way we thought of one of my dad's favorite haunts: The Salvation Army. Dad used to get his opera outfits there, as well as dresses for his dates, in case they didn't have suitable clothing for the Met.

K and I walked in and headed directly for the back of the store where the furniture was kept, and there it was--a silver plated container with a lid. It was as if it called to us. It was the only thing of its kind around, and the store was about to close, so we had to make a decision. It didn't have a price tag, so we asked an employee. He came back and told us $7.99. Not bad; Dad would have approved.

We brought it to the front to show B, and were intercepted by another employee, who told us that the man had given us the wrong price, it was actually $14.99. B wasn't sure if it would get clean ( it was a bit tarnished), and besides, it turned out to be an ice bucket. I noticed a small piece of metal sticking out of it, and asked what it was, and B informed me that's where the tongs went. Ha ha!

K and I were convinced this was the way to go, and we pushed for it and won. The woman who had informed us of the new price said she had actually wanted it, but too bad for her, we plunked down our money and the crafty container was ours.

To be continued...

The Log Blog

My friends Jenn and Sidhu really want to be in this blog. They didn't choose the cutest subject to get in on, however. The shit hit the fan, so to speak, and here they are. Hope you're happy, guys. Your big moment has arrived.

They invited me out to dinner with them, to the fast food Indian place. Right as we're getting into the minivan, Sidhu announces that he's just stepped in dog crap. He hates stepping in dog crap, and gripes about it the whole ride over. I asked if he wanted to use my sink, but he said no, he'd just keep scraping along the sidewalk.

On the way over to the restaurant, Jenn entertains the van (me, Sidhu, and their 4 children) with poop stories they've heard from other people. We're all giggling and snorting, these stories are pretty funny, but man, we're about to eat, and some of the Indian food I like happens to resemble, well, I can't even go into it, I need to put a hold on the conversation so we can just enjoy our meal.

Enjoy our meal we do, until two year old Sera takes a major dump in her pants. Seems that she's been toilet training this week, and has been doing really well. With pee. Jenn thought that we were just going in for a second to order our food to take out, so she quickly threw a diaper on Sera...on top of her underwear, which Sera had already had on. Once we got in we decided to sit down and eat, and Sera's undergarments were forgotten about.

Until Jenn can hardly breathe, and she's thinking about what to do. Take her to the van and change her, just head home...we decide to just head home, everyone's done anyway. More poop references, lots of laughs, Sidhu not believing that Jenn put the diaper on over the underwear...

So we get to the van, Sidhu puts Sera in her car seat, and man, it stinks! We're all laughing and waving our arms, and Jenn decides to just change her right then and there. Sidhu takes her out of the seat, and smears toddler poop on the seat. Man! I scream, and we all get up to look. Jenn has Sera in the front seat and announces that this is a much...bigger situation than she had thought. Oh god, disgusting! She calls for backup from Sidhu.

Sidhu takes charge, all the while cursing about how disgusting this is, he can't believe this, etc. I tell him to calm down, he's a surgeon, for goddsakes. "Not a rectal surgeon", Jenn quips. When he starts going on about corn chunks, I say that I'm going to be sick, and we really need to stop now. Maxy said she was going to vomit. Jace, the baby, was amazingly quiet throughout the whole episode.

Quinn, while looking in the front seat, puts his hand in the poop and waves it around. Jenn wipes it off and I quickly administer the Purell like an expert. We need to get home. Now. We finally do, and as I get out, Sidhu says it must be nice to breathe clean air. I breathe in the fumes from the front grill of the van and say that's even fresher than what they're breathing. We all bust up, Sidhu apologizes for being a party...pooper, ha ha, I promise to hang out with them again, in a year or two, and go inside. A few minutes later I get an email from Jenn saying that Sidhu thinks the blog entry can be called The Log Blog. So it is. I've got to stop now. I'm pooped.

Perseverance Pays Off

My brother sanded an entire hallway with his foot. I'm not kidding. Look at the shoe he made. He did it with one shoe. A little at a time, he says. I'm bewildered and awed.

Meanwhile, Back in Mayberry...

I'm back home in Brookline now. My friend Hiro and I went into the AT & T store to see if they had sold out of the new iPhones. We walked in and saw one of Brookline's finest standing near the door. I asked him if he was always there, and he said no. I asked him if he was there for the iPhone, and he nodded. I couldn't help it, I said the first thing that popped into my head: "Fucking A!" Seriously, I should be happy that I live in a town with so little crime that they can dispatch officers to the local AT & T store to deal with a fucking promotion, but I had to shake my head. Two ends of the police spectrum from NYC to Brookline, that's for sure.

NYC's Finest

Yesterday I was walking down the street and I stuck my hand in my purse to find my subway card. I didn't find it immediately, so I wanted to go through my purse. I saw 4 police officers standing in one area, two against a building, and two near the curb. I figured it was safe to go through my purse near police officers. When I was done, I said to them, "I figured it was safe to go rifling through my purse next to you; who's gonna mug me with police officers?" One of them said, "Don't count on it", and the other one replied, "Welcome to New York."

Carrying on the Tradition

So my dad had tickets to the ballet last night, and of course he couldn't make it. My poor brother had to take the phone call of the woman he was supposed to go with and tell her why she wouldn't be going. My sister-in-law and I were going to go, but at the end of the day she wasn't into it, so I did what my dad had done on so many occasions. I decided to scalp them.

My brother was afraid I'd go out there and scream about my dad couldn't go to the ballet because he was dead, and did anyone want these tickets for a good price, but I have just a shred of tact in me, so I didn't do it that way. I actually started trying to sell them from the apartment building. I asked a well dressed couple if they wanted them, and they politely declined. Then I asked a man and woman who were getting out of their car. The woman said she would have loved to go, but they were going to Shakespeare in the Park. Another fine cultural event in NYC; we wished each other well and went on our respective ways.

My friend Victor and I got down to Lincoln Center, and I started asking people as soon as we got out of the cab. I asked two older women, but they already had tickets. I told them they were my father's tickets and he couldn't make it. "Why don't you go?" one of them asked. I told them I had family business to attend to, and I couldn't. See, didn't embarass anyone!

We made it to the entrance, and I held up my tickets like the other people were doing. A couple of people stopped and looked, but passed. It was about 20 minutes to curtain, so I wanted to get rid of them fast. Two guys approached me at the same time, and I offered them to one, but he had to go check with his friend. Victor followed him to see if he would come back, and by the time he did, making an offer, I just wanted to sell 'em fast. They were $34 each, worth $68, and Victor's guy was offering $40 for the pair. It took too long for him to come back, and the other guy was asking did I want to get rid of them, 10 minutes to curtain, so I just said yes and he gave me $30 for the pair. Victor ragged on me for a minute because he could have gotten me ten more bucks, but you know what? It was my first time, and I had $30 more than I would have had they just sat on the table in the apartment like they almost did. I felt good about carrying on Dad's tradition. I think he would have been proud, although he would have been slightly more savvy than I. Here's to you, Dad. Viva la scalp!

Small Comforts

It's so comforting to know that although the neighborhood I grew up in has changed a lot, in some ways it's very much the same. I had to do some laundry, and the laundrymat where I used to go as a teenager is still there, so that's where I did my laundry. The people were different, and the little nasty Pomeranian wasn't there anymore, but it looked basically the same. I sat outside while the washing machine did its thing and listened to my iPod as I watched the people go by.

I've been taking great shots of NYC scenes, which I'll post when I get home. New York, New York, it's a hell of a town.

Getting Personal

I don't usually get too personal on this blog, but I feel like it right now. My dad died last weekend, in his sleep, listening to classical music. A perfect way to go, in my opinion.

I "came home" to NYC from Boston, and I've been getting blasts from the past ever since I've been here. My dad has lived in this building for 39 years, since I was a baby. I lived here till I was 7, and then came on weekends after my parents got divorced. My brother has lived here with my dad for the past 17 years.

I was sitting on the step the other night, an activity I have done since I was a kid, watching the people go by. Neighbor after neighbor came into the building, and it was like "This is Your Life." I only see these people every few years, since I'm in Boston, but they always say hi and ask about my dad and brother. I got a huge dose of comic relief from one couple. I told them my dad had died listening to music, and the husband said, "What station? I'm not listening to it; I don't want to die!" Oh god, that was funny. Then the wife told me about this show they had just seen that I had to go to, it was only here till July 1st. Such New Yorkers, I love it.

I came in the other day with a bag full of stuff, and I put it on the radiator to wait for the elevator. The sound of the bag hitting the radiator gave me a flashback to my childhood. Strange and comforting how tiny things like sounds or smells can bring you back to a place you haven't thought about for a long time.

We're bonding, my brother, sister-in-law, and I. Going through stuff, throwing away bags and bags of stuff, sorting through papers. I keep calling his financial institutions, and they all say they need a death certificate. Poor man just got "out of the oven" as it were, and here I am trying to take care of business. It's the way we're grieving. I know I need to slow down, but I don't know how. Perhaps writing this will help. It's not even 9 am. Sigh.

Weather...or Not

Today is June 14th. It was 55 degrees today in Boston. I saw more than one person walking around in a down jacket. Another person was wearing a scarf. The heat is still on in my house. How can a person enjoy a picnic wearing long johns? This is not right. It just isn't.

A Clean Apartment in Half an Hour!

Want to make your apartment spic and span? Want to have it done quickly?
Here are 6 easy steps to a place that looks like new!

1) Have a meeting scheduled, in 30 minutes.

2) Have your cat go poop, but not quite all the way.

3) Have her scuttle all over the apartment on her ass, trying to get it out. Make sure she covers the kitchen, the floor, the rug, and the $69 Ralph Lauren bath rug (which was a gift, you would never pay $69 for a bath rug).

4) When the place stinks to high heaven, and her mission is complete, shove her out into the hallway, and grab the vacuum and Murphy's Oil Soap.

5) Scrub the floors and carpets with the soap, on your hands and knees, like Cinderella. It's the only way to get a floor really clean. Curse the cat you formerly referred to as "my baby".

6) Vacuum the floor and rugs.

In under 30 minutes, your place will be clean as new, and no one will know what unspeakable horror occurred but you and the cat (and the neighbor, whom you called to vent your frustrations). Voila!

Another day at Starbucks

See the guy wearing the khaki cargo shorts? He doesn't feel like holding his book, so he put it in the back of his pants. I have never understood this practice, in particular from a guy who has at least 6 pockets in his pants. Thoughts?

High Expectations

Today I had my first English lesson with two Japanese boys, ages 10 and 8. They're both very shy and quiet, and they've only been here for a couple of months. Their 5 year old sister flitted back and forth among us.

I brought a card game that I use in all of my first lessons, and I'd say it was a success. I got them to laugh a lot, in their shy way, and that's always one of my goals. The 8 year old won every game, even though this was the first time he had played it. I helped the 10 year old with English sentences, and we ended with talk of birthdays. At one point the boys had a race with their electronic dictionaries to find out how to say a Japanese word in English. I had a great time.

The 10 year old disappeared at the end, so I asked the 8 year old if he liked the lesson. Talking through his mother, he said it was "futsuu", which means "ordinary." When he saw the exaggerated look of shock on my face, he changed it to "between neutral and interesting." What I love the most is how kids will tell it like it is, no matter what. This kid has high expectations. Guess I'll have to step up my game. Next week he won't know what hit him.

It's Just Another Vermin Monday

I'm known as the animal rescuer at my school. In the past 10 years, I have rescued a frog, a pigeon, several insects, and have assisted in the rescue of an opossom and a bat. Today's rescue was a baby mouse. Poor little thing was just sitting there, separated from its nest, looking cute and forlorn at the same time. I would have liked to return it to its mummy, but there were curious children crowding around. I ended up taking it outside to the far corners of the property, where it immediately made a meal of a rain-soaked leaf. I figure it'll take about a week to make its way back.

After school I went to Starbucks to relax for awhile. My table was already occupied--by a huge cockroach. I didn't rescue this one; I asked someone to bring a broom and smash it. After I took a picture, of course.

Entitled Motorcycle

I was walking down the street a couple of weeks ago and saw a motorcycle parked in the middle of the sidewalk. Not in the street, not at the curb; on the sidewalk. How badly do you need that space? Check out the ticket, ha ha!

Serves you right.

I Have Sunk to a New Low

Last night I went to dinner with my friend Amy. I needed to buy groceries; milk, and something for lunch for today, but I didn't want to ask her to stop at the supermarket. We passed by a 7-11 and ran in. I got milk and walked around the store for about 10 minutes, trying to find something edible for lunch. There were individual slices of Spam, refrigerated spaghetti and meatballs that were freshest by yesterday, chicken salad wraps that looked very soggy, and ramen noodles.

Just as I was about to give up, I spotted this:

And I bought it. It was nostalgic; having grown up

in New York, White Castle burgers were a rare

treat whenever I used to go beyond city limits.

I asked the kid behind the counter if he had ever

tried them, and he said, "Yeah, they're really

good. Actually, I like everything in this store."

Lord help me, and may the Organic Food Gods

forgive me for what I am about to eat for lunch

today.

Eye Opener

I can't see a thing without my contacts or glasses. This morning I woke up and noticed a smudge on the ceiling near the trim. Since I sleep in a loft bed, the ceiling is pretty close to me. I squinted my eyes to get a closer look. Closer...closer...and then I figured out what it was. What a sight to wake up to, can you imagine? I cursed at it and left it there; I'll deal with it later.

Food Fun

Check out this big ass strawberry that was at

my school's potluck dinner. Thang was big! Yummy, too. Compliments of Trader Joe's.

Also at the party: Dino Dip. How

adorable is that?

Little Moments

I love little moments. Today it was pouring rain. I was walking along with my umbrella and I saw two people without. The first guy just smiled at me, and a few blocks later, a second guy walked past me, soaking wet. As I got close to him, I said, "Aw, screw the umbrella!" He laughed and said, "You're a baby!" (for using one) Interacting with strangers like that makes me feel like this world is not so big.

I saw a big earthworm squirming around on the pavement, and I put it back into the earth, to atone for the small earthworm I did not put back into the earth a few days ago. It was also to atone for not telling the woman at the bakery she gave me too much change. This was over a month ago, and I'm still feeling guilty about it. It was $5. Discovering my neighbors' indoor cats outside and knocking on their door to tell them about it should make it all come out even.

All this atonement, you'd think I was raised Catholic. In fact, I was raised with no religion at all, but baptized Catholic. Must've been some good conscience down there in that holy water.

Sick Half Sleeve Ink

I love language, especially slang. Today I was wearing a short sleeved tee shirt and jeans, so everyone was looking at the tattoo on my arm. More than usual, people were commenting on it.

Young woman: Hey, nice half sleeve.

(translation: Excuse me, nice tattoo that goes from your shoulder to your elbow)

Appropriate response: Thank you.

Young man, walking slightly behind me:

Hey, that ink is sick!

(translation: Excuse me, but your tattoo is really nice!)

I also replied "thank you" to him. Can you imagine saying thank you to someone who says, "That ink is sick!"? I laugh just thinking of it.

Well, I'm gonna go download some sick music on my iPod and upload some photos to my blog. Later!

Spare Tire? No problem!

Dear Readers,

If you haven't been fortunate or unfortunate enough to try my GI Virus diet, I've found a new way to get rid of the dreaded "muffin top" when you put on a pair of jeans! Got an extra inch or so around your waistline? Does it spill over when you put on a pair of jeans? Are you older than 18? Has something foreign happened to your body around your mid to late 30's? Then here's the solution for you!

It's called NSJ. NSJ can be found in any store, but you may have to shop around for a brand of NSJ that you like. What does NSJ stand for? Next Size Jeans! Here's all you do:

Step 1--Put on a pair of jeans in the size you've worn for the past 10 years. Feeling a little snug? Got a little extra flab to play with? Ick!

Step 2--Put on a pair of jeans in the next size. No flab! No suffocating! No problem! It may take a few sessions of therapy to get used to this new change, but as long as you can breathe, it will be better for you.

Another solution to this problem is the new HWJ, otherwise known as the High Waist Jean. They're making a comeback! These are not to be confused with the "Mom Jean", which should not be worn at any time.

Good luck, and happy breathing!

School Stories

When I was in NYC a few weeks ago, I saw a billboard ad for a childcare center. It was open 7 days a week, 23 hours a day. What hour were they closed, and what do they do for that hour, clean the place?

Here's a cute scene I came upon at my school last week. It's nice to see ocean mammals enjoying a healthy meal. I think the dolphin must have eaten too much.

A Very Long Evening

Today I was in Coolidge Corner, very close to Trader Joe's, where I needed a few groceries. It was 5:00 and I hadn't been home from work yet. I wanted to go home, relax for a few, and then go out again later. On the way home I stopped at CVS. My hands were full of my wallet, my keys, and the receipt, so I stuffed the CVS bag and wallet into the big section of my backpack. Usually I'm very careful about putting my wallet in a different section.

When I got home, I took the CVS bag and wallet out and put it on the table. I checked email, watched the news, had dinner, and prepared to go to Trader Joe's. I wanted to go tonight, because it was a lovely evening, and the forecast predicted rain for tomorrow. I needed milk for my morning tea, and I figured I'd get my contribution to a friend's potluck birthday dinner on Saturday. I also wanted to get the frozen strawberries and cream dessert I had just had at a student's house. Yum! I took my backpack and my iPod, and walked the 3/4 of a mile to Trader Joe's. I wore my new hot pink Mary Jane Crocs, despite my plan to wear them only in the house. They're easy to put on, and I didn't have any other shoes that went with my breezy turquoise skirt quite as well.

Got to TJ's, shopped around, went back and forth on the yogurt (the only yogurt I like turns out to be whole milk yogurt, go figure), and settled on mochi ice cream, as they were sold out of the frozen strawberries and cream.

Went to the checkout, put my basket on the shelf, and opened the wallet section of my backpack. Felt for my wallet, and it wasn't there. In my mind I saw my wallet on my table, on top of the CVS bag. Shit. Fuck. Goddamn it! The cashier said he could put my groceries in a cooler and I could come back. I'm not coming back tonight, man, I just walked here! I sighed deeply, told the cashier that I was getting my exercise in, and left, cursing under my breath.

I went across the street and you know I waited for the bus, I wasn't about to walk 3/4 of a mile back home, screw that. Thankfully, the bus gods took pity on me and sent one immediately. I got off at the stop that would take me near the playground near my house, and I walked through the park. Saw two of my kids, who came running over with big hugs. Gigi asked me where I was coming from. I said, "Trader Joe's, but do you see I have no groceries in my hands? I forgot my wallet." "Oh," said five year old Gigi, "I hate that feeling." After a minute she attempted to make me feel better by chirping, "At least they have free samples!" In an instant, all of my troubles disappeared. Who needs money when they have free samples?

(update: an hour after I finished this blog entry, I discovered $20 that had been in my wallet section the whole time. Is this a trend for me? What does it mean?)

Ahh, spring...

It's so lovely in Boston right now. People are planting flowers, gardening. There are tulips and new mulch everywhere. So many colors: red, yellow, pink, green, and brown. Some people feel such satisfaction after a good few hours in the sun, bonding with mother earth.

I would rather stick a hoe in my eye than garden.

If I had a garden, it would look like this:

Or maybe like this:

I'm a city girl, what can I say?

Butterflies in my hair

Hey Y'all,

I have so many stories, but I'm not in the writing mood these days, so you'll just have to bear with me. Here's a few pics of butterflies I took while at The Butterfly Place in Westwood, MA. I went with a Canon camera club, and we got the place to ourselves for two hours before they opened. I announced to the group that I had a fear of butterflies (they're so unpredictable!) that I was hoping to get over. Thank goodness the butterfly people turned down the heat for us to make the butterflies less active. Most of them just stayed still.

Later, the sun came out, and some of those beautiful giant blue ones started flapping around, and I swear they were divebombing me on purpose! One guy kept saying, "Watch out for that one, it has fangs!" Hey, I just don't like flappy things flying unpredictably around my head, can you blame me? Anyway, guess I had a small story in there after all. Enjoy the pics. More stories to come!

Fan

I went to Ikea the other night. At the end where they have the pick up bins, I looked up and noticed a huge fan. Looking closer, I noticed the name of the company: Big Ass Fans. Pretty funny.

Charlie Card Update

Update: after 4 letters and about 6 phone calls, my new May Charlie Card arrived in the mail yesterday. The squeaky wheel gets the grease.

Whee!

Yesterday I went to Issei and Yumeko's house as usual to tutor them in English. Issei is 10 and Yumeko is 13. Usually when I arrive, they're both upstairs and they come down with their backpacks. They dutifully start on their homework and I help them with that before we play a game. They've only been in this country for 7 months, so they're still learning English.

When I arrived yesterday, however, it seemed that Issei was suddenly fluent. He was downstairs already, and he greeted me with, "Hi! Homework finish! Want to play a game? I have Wii!" I had heard the big hoo ha over Wii, so of course I was curious. I told him I'd love to play, but since everything was in Japanese, he'd have to explain things in English. He said, "Yes." and Yumeko closed her backpack, clapped her hands, and said, "Okay!"

It was a great English lesson as they both explained how to move the controls, what the games were, and what I should do. My favorite game was a dart game where you held the control but moved your hand as if you were actually throwing a dart. Teaching English was never more fun.

Junk in the Trunk

Here's the thing: When you wear a trench coat, don't wear a fanny pack. It looks silly. And someone might take a picture of you from...behind, pun intended, and post it on their blog. Seriously.

Only in NE

Only in New England will you see a pair of flip flops and a pair of sheepskin boots on the same day...

More Celebrities

I saw Rosie O'Donnell and her partner Kelli in Provincetown, MA once.
Robin Williams eating at a Chinese restaurant in San Francisco.
The comedian Sinbad crossing the street in NYC.

Back when I was in high school, there used to be this hot male model in the Victoria's Secret catalogs. My best friend Aysha and I would drool over this guy in his satin boxer shorts. One day I was walking down the street in NYC and I saw him at a phone booth. I nearly died! I went right up to him and said, "Aren't you the guy from the Victoria's Secret catalog?" and he got this fake model look on his face and crooned, "Why, yes I am." I asked him for his autograph; his name was Bruce. I ran to a phone booth and called Aysha and screamed, "OhmygodIjustmettheVictoria'sSecretguyandIgothisautographohmygod!!!!" We were very excited.

This happened another time. The movie La Bamba was in the theaters, and Aysha and I were hot for Esai Morales, who played the brother. He was typecast as the bad boy; in fact, he had previously been in the movie Bad Boys with Sean Penn. I was waiting for the subway at Times Square, and who should I see coming to wait for the train but Esai Morales himself. He was carrying a basketball.

We made eye contact and smiled, and I said, "Are you Esai Morales?" and he said yes, and we started a conversation. He had just come from playing basketball in the Village. I remember I said something like "you famous people" or something, and he said, "What are you talking about? I'm just like you!" Yeah, right. When it was close to his stop he said, "Well, I have to be somewhere, but if I didn't, you would definitely be kidnapping material." What?? I thought that was a weird thing to say, but I smiled at him, nervously. Then he had the nerve to lean towards me, as if we were going to kiss goodbye! I said, "Uh, no thanks." and he was a little offended. We parted ways, and even though he creeped me out a bit, I still had to rush to the phone and call Aysha. I screamed, "OhmygodAyshaIjustmetEsaiMorales!!!" and she screamed, "Didyougethisnumber???" No, he gave me the willies. But it was still kinda cool.

My favorite celebrity sighting was Jeff Goldblum in Central Park. That man is tall, a real presence. He was bopping along, taking long strides, and everyone was gawking at him. All of a sudden he put his thumbs in his ears, waved his fingers, made a boogey man face and screamed, "Blaughhhhhh!" at the passerby. It was hysterical, and I thought a most appropriate response for a celebrity.

Celebrity Sightings

When I was in NYC, on my first morning I walked out of my hotel and within 5 minutes saw Alec Baldwin. He was waiting to cross the street, and I stared at him to make sure it really was a Baldwin. Looked his image up on the web to make sure it was Alec, and not one of the other ones. He was holding hands with a rather dowdy woman who I thought was his wife. When I called a friend to tell her about my celebrity sighting, she said, "He's not married! He's the Kim Basinger one!" Ohhh...was it his mother? She was short, and a little paunchy, not old enough to be his mother. Unless she dyed her hair. Who was that mystery woman? Who cares? I saw Alec Baldwin!

Other celebrities I have seen, in no particular order:

Madonna and Sean Penn, jogging in Central Park. This was back when they were married. Madonna whipped right past me, but Sean looked in my eyes. I thought he was going to punch me out.

Ron Palillo, who played Horseshack on the 70's sitcom Welcome Back Kotter. He came into Belvedere Castle in Central Park, where I used to work. Saw a lot of celebrities in Central Park.

Morgan Freeman, riding his bike in Central Park. I was in my early twenties, but looked like a teenager. I stopped him and said, "Mr. Freeman, I've been a fan of yours ever since you were on The Electric Company." He replied, "And look atcha now, all grown up!" It sounded condesending to me, and left a bad impression.

Another bad impression was when I met Sonia Manzano, who plays Maria on Sesame Street. I used to be one of the little kids on Sesame Street, and of course all little kids idolize the cast, right? I had proof I was on the show when I was looking through one of my college textbooks that I had bought. There was a picture of Maria and the back of my head, on the Sesame Street set. When I heard that Maria was going to be at the Children's Museum of Boston, I brought the book to show her. I went up to her and said, "Look, this is me and you!" and she said to me, "How do you know that's you?" Oh my god, I was so pissed and disappointed in her.

More celebrity sighting stories to come...

NYC

I was in New York City the other day. What a city. I walked all over, up and down Broadway, and didn't feel like I was walking that much. Till I got back to my hotel room and fell asleep almost immediately. I calculated exactly how much I walked in one day. Eight miles. Eight! Wish I could do that every day, but walking in Brookline isn't the same.

Where else but NYC can you see a guy walking along in a funny hat making bird noises every few feet? And it wasn't to entertain the children; this was around 9:00 pm in Times Square. I saw this big tough looking guy on the subway, listening to his iPod. He looked like L.L. Cool J, very cute. He was listening to one of my favorite rap songs, and I wanted to tell him so. I waited till he looked up, and I said, "That's a great song." He said, "This one?" I said, "Yeah, it's one of my favorites. Thank you for listening to it so loud." He got this bashful "aw shucks" look on his face and said, "You're welcome."

I saw this sign:

Perfect for the camera tripod that

walks. More NYC adventures to come.

When You're Pissed, Write a Letter

This is a letter I wrote to the Massachusetts Bay Transit Authority:

March 13, 2007

To Daniel Grabauskas, General Manager

I have lived in the Boston area for fifteen years, and have been a faithful T rider since I stepped foot in this wonderful city. In recent years I have bought my monthly T Pass at the Mailboxes Etc. store located in Coolidge Corner, Brookline. The set up was great; I'd buy my pass, use the accessible hole puncher to punch a hole in the pass so I could attach it to my key chain, and be on my way. I never lost a T Pass using this system.

In January, when the new Charlie Card arrived, I bought a monthly card as usual. I was disappointed to see that a hole could not be punched in it so I could put it on my key chain. It took me awhile to figure out where to put it each day so I wouldn't lose it. Each month when I went into the Mailboxes Etc. store, I was told by the store owner and employees to save my receipt; if I ever lost my card, it would be replaced. I was relieved.

Lo and behold, last week I had put my Charlie Card in my pocket, and at some point it fell out. I was glad I had my receipt as proof I bought it! I went into Mailboxes Etc. to get a new card, and was told that I would have to contact the MBTA.

I called the number printed on the receipt, and was told there was nothing that could be done. I later heard that the MBTA was supposed to set up a system in January whereby one could register a Charlie Card for replacement if it got lost. According to the MBTA website, that has not been done yet. That is not my fault.

When I went to complain to the owner of Mailboxes Etc., Chuck Peden, he told me that he was told by Rick (last name unknown), an employee of the MBTA, that a card would be replaced if lost. Rick is the person who trained the staff at Mailboxes Etc.

I was told multiple times that my card would be replaced if I lost it. I lost it; I want it replaced. I am asking for a check for $59.00 to cover the second card I had to buy in March. Enclosed is a receipt for the Charlie Card I bought February 28th.

I am extremely disappointed in the lack of organization of the MBTA and the new Charlie Card system. I look forward to improvements and consistancy, in addition to my check for $59.00.

Sincerely,

Alexandra Campbell

I printed this letter on bright yellow paper and sent a copy of it to the MBTA. My plan was to send one copy each week until I got a response. It took 4 letters until I got a phone call. I can just picture the scene in the office: Some higher up waving my letter and giving it to a junior employee, saying through clenched teeth: "Make this woman go away, I don't care what it takes!!!"

The woman on the phone said that while they couldn't cut me a check, they would send me a pass for the month of May so I wouldn't have to buy one. That's all I wanted. Justice was served.

And then...and I really hesitate to write this part of the story, but it wouldn't be complete if I didn't. Was in NYC yesterday during the torrental rain. My bags got drenched. When I got home today I emptied everything out of my backpack to let things dry. I went through every single pocket.

And found the Charlie Card I thought I lost. And I suddenly got a flash of the day I thought I lost it; I had put it carefully in a special pocket so I wouldn't lose it. Can one be too fastidious? Methinks so.

You might say that I owe Daniel Grabauskas a big fat apology. I am very embarassed, it's true. But here's the thing: It could have happened! I thought I lost it. Well, I lost it for a month and a half! Oh god, please forgive me.

Don't Try This

Hiro just bought a Lotus. I don't know jack about cars, but it's some very expensive designer car that's good for racing. He brought it over to show me.

I tried being a hot model for a hot model car, but I wasn't looking so hot when I tried to get out of it. It's not for the red carpet.

Stairway to Heaven, Part Three

Shelby, like myself, is a creature of habit. Every morning she sits on the floor and meows for me to wake up. Sometimes she does it at three in the morning. She doesn't want food or to go out; she wants attention. I go down to pee, acknowledge her, and then she's fine. It took her a week to figure out that she could now go up the stairs and be with me without waiting for me to go down. She did it this morning, and she loves it.

Stairway to Heaven, Part Two

So I got this nasty GI virus (see "A Diet That Really Works!") and when I felt better, I scrubbed the bathroom down with bleach bathroom cleaner to get rid of all the germs. I thought I had rinsed everything properly, but maybe not, because just a day later, Shelby got a case of the runs. This happens to her every once in awhile, and when I described it to the vet, he said that if it goes away in a day or two, it's something she's gotten into in the house. It's not like I leave toxic plants in her reach or have rat poison around. Thing is, Shelby's tastes run on the strange side. She loves to lick photographs and ink, either from a pen or a computer printer. I'm guessing she also likes bathroom cleaner.

In any case, the way I found out she had the runs was by coming home one afternoon to show a friend my place for the first time. We walked into a smell that would knock you back to 2006. Shelby was up in the loft, waiting for me to take her down. She was all the way on the head side of the bed, the very opposite of where she usually is. Why?

Because she had peed and made a puddle of diarrhea at the foot of the bed. Needless to say, I was very embarassed and concerned. My friend was so gracious; she left after a few minutes to let me clean up the mess. The pee had gone through the comforter cover, through the quilt and sheets, and onto the mattress pad. It didn't make it on the mattress, thank god. Poor Shelby had a messy backside, and I had to deal with all of this. Got it cleaned up pretty quickly.

Then I put in an emergency email looking for someone who could make me a set of steps for the loft so that Shelby could go up and down freely. I had to put tape on the ladder so she wouldn't go up there until I got the steps made. My friend Geoff got right on it. We designed a set of steps, I showed Shelby how to use them, and in a couple of days, she was going up and down like she was an act in the circus. My bed is clean, Shelby is getting exercise, and she also has access to the top of my closet, where there are other treats Shelby loves to devour: dust bunnies.

Stairway to Heaven, Part One

(turn your head to see pic properly)

Shelby, my beloved feline, my darling precious baby, likes to sleep in my loft bed. I was the one to introduce her to it. She never tried to climb the ladder herself, so one day when I was about to take a nap, I hoisted her 11 1/2 pound furry frame up there. She loved it. We established a routine; she'd meow, I'd put her up, she'd nap. I'd take her down. If she stayed sitting and bit my hand, that meant she wasn't ready to come down. If she stood up, she wanted to come down, so I carried her down the ladder like a firefighter.

This went on for months, until one day...I came home and Shelby didn't greet me at the door like she usually did. Lo and behold, she was up in the loft! And very happy to see me, as she had probably been up there for awhile and wanted to get down. I took her down, and later witnessed how she got up. Step by step, very slowly, and with some degree of difficulty. Imagine a slow-witted raccoon trying to climb a tree.

Going up was no problem. It was the getting down part that she didn't quite understand. There would be days when I'd come home and she'd be up there, purring and meowing for me to take her down. Friends would ask, "What if she has to go to the bathroom?" She held it till I came home.

I saw her come down once. It was not a pretty sight. She went down, head and paws first, but it was difficult, as the rungs of the ladder were too far apart for her to reach down comfortably. Also, the ladder is at a very steep angle, so she couldn't balance very well. She made it down one step, then took a deep breath, and ran/slid down the rest of the way. You could tell it took a lot of guts to do and that she wasn't anxious to do it again. She stopped coming down and waited for me.

Then I got sick, and that's the beginning of the next part of the story.

What Would You Do?

I witnessed a fistfight between two teenagers on my way to the T today. They were on the basketball court, and I couldn't tell if it was real or if they were just fooling around. There were about five other kids on the court, one of whom was egging them on. At one point, it looked like a girl got in the middle of it and started swinging. It started to look real.

And here I am, little tiny white woman (the participants were not white). Am I supposed to step in the middle of this group and get my ass kicked? Try to break it up? Should I have called the police?

As it turned out, a white woman much taller than me came over and broke it up. I guessed she was a teacher at the high school.

The incident left me unsettled. What would you have done?

A Diet That Really Works!

Are you having trouble getting rid of those last pesky few pounds? Have you tried every diet under the sun? Is exercise just too strenuous?

Have I got the diet for you!

It's called The GI Virus/Orange Juice/English Muffin Diet, and it really works! In just 5 days I lost 3 pounds! Here's all you do:

1) Find a place with an outbreak of a GI virus, such as a preschool or large family. Hang out with the group for a week to 10 days. When you start to feel just a little "not yourself", you're on your way!

2) Eat soup out of a can the first night, instead of the healthy balanced meal you had planned.

3) The second day is when the diet really takes effect. Get knocked out and lie in bed with a fever for 10 hours straight, getting out of bed only to throw up. It's easier than yoga! You'll sleep with no interruptions and sweat your fat away! Some people even get delusional and have wonderful dreams!

4) Drink whatever you want at the end of the fever period. Orange juice will taste like golden nectar. An English muffin will keep you satisfied.

5) The next 2 days are slightly unpleasant, as the little you've put in your stomach will immediately "run" out. Don't tell your thoughtful friends, who have brought you all manner of goodies. Don't let them in on the fact that you've lost your sense of smell, either. It's good to have friends!

6) You should see results on the 5th day. Unfortunately, that will be the highlight of the diet, as your appetite will come back and all the weight you lost is sure to return as well. Just record your low weight on the calendar and know that it can be done, if only for a short time.

Remember, throw that Purell away and get goin' with the GI virus!

Good Enough to Eat

I tutor Japanese people in

English conversation; I am

often served a snack during

our tutoring sessions. Check

out the aesthetic delight I

was served the other day:

Dessert provided by Trader

Joe's; presentation by Chikae.

Well done!

American Idol on the Brain

After dinner, Hiro and I went to the ice cream place. One guy behind the counter had his back to us; when he turned around, I gasped. He looked like a white Ruben Studdard from American Idol! Don't you think so???

Clean Plate Club

Hiro and I went to eat dinner at the Indian place. We were talking for about 10 minutes; I looked up and saw what his plate looked like compared to what my plate looked like. Guess he was hungry.

My Idol

I had a dream last night that I slept with Simon Cowell, the "mean" British judge on American Idol. This was after he told me I went from a size 3 last year to a size 10 this year, and I let myself go. Didn't seem to faze him, though, after I flirted a little. As we started making out, I apologized out loud to his longtime girlfriend.

We were on the top bunk of a bunkbed, and Randy Jackson, another judge, was at the foot of the bed, not paying attention to us. Right at the "moment of truth", I sat up,wanting to make sure Randy wasn't there anymore. The moment was lost, and Simon got up to do something. I did too, but went back to the bed. He came back over, Randy was nowhere to be seen, and we continued...

I'm into dream analyzation. What does this dream mean? Let's see...I love American Idol, and I think Simon is hot. Makes sense. I'm having issues with weight gain. Okay. I sleep in a loft bed, so the bunkbed makes sense. What's the deal with Randy Jackson?

Any ideas? If you have trouble leaving a comment here, send it to me via email. I'm curious!

New species

Saw this guy waiting for the train. Doesn't he look like a human turtle?

It's That Good!

Here's a quiz: You're in a mall, and you see a line of about 30 people. What are they waiting for?

a) a celebrity sighting

b) a book signing

c) white rice

The answer, at this particular time, would be c), white rice. Sarku, the Japanese place in the food court at any mall, has about 3 items on their menu, and they're known for their teriyaki chicken and white rice. You've probably sampled their little chicken pieces on a toothpick, admit it. And damn, it's good!

Today they ran out of white rice, and the next batch wouldn't be ready for 20 minutes. Those of us who didn't really care had fried rice or noodles, but some people held out, those purists.

As I was waiting for my meal, I watched as they prepared fresh chicken on the huge grill. Normally, seeing raw meat makes me feel ill at ease, but this display nearly caused me to throw up right then and there. I don't know if it came from a bucket or what, but suddenly they slopped what looked like liquified chicken all over the grill. I turned away so I could enjoy the end result.

And enjoy it I did, unlike the ungrateful woman whose boyfriend waited the 20 minutes to get her white rice, while he had noodles. My friend and I watched as she picked at her meal. I felt like yelling at her, "Ingrate! There are starving people in line who would kill to have that rice!"

But I kept my mouth shut, for once. And my tummy full. Yum.

Techno Love

TV: Oh, hi, PC! Didn't think you'd actually show.

PC: Wasn't my choice. It's trash day.

TV: So you wouldn't have...

PC: Sony, it's over. The spark just isn't there anymore.

TV: That's 'cause I'm not plugged in! Ha...get it? Not...plugged...in. Come on, P, give me another chance.

PC: I've given you too many chances already. Why don't you go find yourself a nice laptop and leave me alone?

TV: That hurts, P. That really hurts. And so does this Christmas tree up my arse. It's March, fer Chrissakes! What the hell are you doing here?

Tree: Yo, how do you think I feel? Everyone else is partying it up on the curb January 1st, and I'm left to dry out while the Mr. and Mrs. decide what to do about the condo! Who moves out? Do they sell? He's worked too hard to just walk away from this property! Sheesh. The decorations were ripped off me like I was being strip searched. I felt so...violated. And then just tossed back here to rot with hunks of plastic and wires. Uh...no offense.

TV: Whatever, dude. Here comes the trash truck. PC, hope you get past dial up someday.

PC: Don't you worry, I've got a date with Hi Def tonight.

Tree: Oh man, please let that Golden Retriever keep walking. Keeeep walking...