limpin' ain't easy

Friday, February 27, 2009

Wish Granted

When I returned home from the computer lab this evening, a 2'x2'1' package was waiting for me. My mother informed me that a belated birthday gift would soon be arriving, but I thought it would be High School Musical 3 (I'm amazed no one got it for me, it's so obvious). Anyway, I didn't think my mom was going to buy me a couch. Within the box was a giant bag, so big in fact that I could fit inside of it--yes, I actually tried. Within the bag was another box. Inside of that was a case for my sewing machine. Very awesome. However, all the packaging was entirely unnecessary, seeing as the case is indestructible.

Wednesday I got the lucky opportunity to see a taping of "The Daily Show." It was awesome, as was my vegetable mousaka from the little Greek place in Hell's Kitchen. Just as I thought my night couldn't get any better, I saw Keith Olberman in the subway. I was already smiling because I was in an awesome mood, and we made eye contact and he smiled back! Wahoo! 2 Silver Foxes down, 98 to go. My evening was so wonderful that I didn't even care that I spilled my leftover mousaka all over Penn Station trying to catch my train.

Damn, Keith Olberman, Jon Stewart and Tom Selleck all in one day. I am a lucky girl indeed.

Watch Wednesday's episode of "The Daily Show" here. A truly hilarious episode.

Sunday, February 22, 2009

O February, you may be little but you are small!

Last night, I finally finished what is now one of my favorite books of all time: Jitterbug Perfume by Tom Robbins. He perfectly sums up how I've been feeling lately in the following:


They say that February is the shortest month, but you know they could be wrong...However more abbreviated that its cousins it may look, February feels longer that any of them. It is the meanest moon of winter, all the more cruel because it will masquerade as spring, occasionally for hours at a time, only to rip off its mask with a sadistic laugh and spit icicles into every gullible face, behavior that grows quickly old...Except the extent that it "tints the buds and swells the leaves within," February is as useless as the extra r in its name. It behaves like an obstacle, a wedge of slush and mud and ennui, holding both progress and contentment at bay.

Except for the fact that my birthday is in February, I realize that it's a crappy month. As Robbins also points out, there are plenty of "holidays" in February, but they're all pointless. Winter is enjoyable, because the bugs are dead and I prefer being too cold over too hot. However, this winter is dragging on too long. Global warming my ass.

I can't complain about anything, really. Life has been treating me well, even though I can't shake off this cold (which is probably now pneumonia according to WebMD). In exciting news, I saw John Slattery on the subway this week. Intern Friend's misguided attempt to distract us from our excitement was an over-loud discussion about the comic strip "Funky Winkerbean." It didn't work, so needless to say, I didn't breathe from Hudson St. to 14th St. I'll go ahead and say that he is the most handsome man I've ever seen in real life.



Swoon. Also, who knew that a comic strip with such a funny name could be so tragic?

Monday, February 16, 2009

Woman you nice, sweet, fantastic

It's been said, and I'll tend to agree: 23 is the new 21.

My birthday was so freaking awesome this year. Twelve of my friends and I played laser tag and had so much fun. First we had to find it, which was difficult. It was in a warehouse in the middle of the woods. Once everyone got there it was kind of like, "hey I actually brought you here to murder you happy birthday to meeee! jk jk roflmao."

So anywhooo we didn't get raped or murdered, thank goodness. We had a total blast, pun definitely intended. The party continued to a little Mexican restaurant, where they had a DJ blasting Mexican music (salsa? lambada?) and flashing, multi-colored disco lights. I was prepared to have the worst experience of my life. However, the DJ came over the intercom and in Spanish, dedicated a song to his amigos quien no hablan espaƱol. Imagine my surprise when he played this.

I couldn't breathe for approximately 3 minutes and 50 seconds, or however long the song was. Is that what white, non-Spanish speaking people listen to? Also, I do speak Spanish, that's how I understood that the song was dedicated to us.

About 15 minutes after sitting down, K disappeared and we heard the DJ come onto the loud speaker again and wish me a happy birthday. He then proceeded to play 2 Mexican birthday songs, while wishing me happiness and joy for the year. I'll be honest, I cried a little bit because he was being so nice. For the rest of the night he'd periodically say "Happy Birthday, Air-een." Totes adorable.

One of the waitresses then brought me birthday flan (SWEET). Perhaps they ran out of birthday candles, or don't carry them, because instead of a candle for me to blow out in the birthday flan, I had 6 toothpicks set on fire. It was glorious.

I had so much fun on my birthday, and I'm so grateful to my friends who were there to help me celebrate in style.

Finally, this is for my friends out there who don't speak Spanish. Enjoy:

Saturday, February 14, 2009

Happy Birthtine's Day to Me!

The Worst Things to Do on Valentine’s Day When You’re Single

I love Valentine’s Day. Not only is it my birthday, it’s a chance for me to show my love and appreciation for those around me. V-Day is also a chance for my pathetic attempts to get people to like me by bringing baked goods wherever I go (on today’s menu: red velvet cupcakes with buttercream frosting and red sprinkles). Regardless of the fact that I will always get flowers and cards from my parents, I have been Valentine-less for the majority of my twenty-something Valentine’s Days so I know what the WORST things you can do as a singleton are on Cupid’s day of hearts, love, and all things pink.

1. Drinks with girlfriends. Sure, it sounds like a great idea: “Girl’s night out! Let’s dance!” This might be a good idea if it’s a small group, no more than 3 women. Be careful, because the more estrogen you introduce, the greater the likelihood that someone will a) cry all night in the bar’s dirty bathroom, b) puke chocotinis all night in the bar’s dirty bathroom, or c) contract puss bubbles from Tony (the winner who kept doing jagerbombs while simultaneously groping you, your roommate, and your grandmother) in the bar’s dirty bathroom. It’s quite possible that that someone will be you.

2. Sleep with any of your friends. Unless you actually hate them and you want your friendship to be over anyway. In that case, hump on! Otherwise, realize that it's probably just a pity fuck, as you have mascara all over your face and chocotini vomit running down your chin.

3. Steal a baby. You’ll be a mother when the time is right, or when the condom breaks. But in your desperation for a tiny being that will love you unconditionally, thus fulfilling whatever void your childhood left, avoid taking someone else’s child. Kidnapping is wrong, folks.

4. Watch any of the following movies:
  • "The Notebook." Why would you even think that this is a good movie to watch when you’re alone and already mopey? Because they die at the end? No. Do not watch this if you are even remotely upset that you don’t have a date tonight; all it will do is remind you that you’ll never meet anyone as hot as Ryan Gosling.
  • "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind." You’ll just sit in a stew of ex-lovers, simmering in despair of failed relationships, wondering why you two ever broke up, etc. Bad idea, just don't do it, mmmkay?
  • "Titanic." This movie is 4 hours of you being single while Leonardo DiCaprio kisses on Kate Winslet. Then she lets go, even though she says she never will, and then drops the necklace into the ocean. Not only will you be alone when the credits roll and Celine’s heart goes on, you’ll be infuriated because that necklace was worth millions.
  • "Bridget Jones’ Diary." Although it works in the movie, chubby and batshit nuts won’t find you love.
  • Anything with Meg Ryan.
  • "I Know Who Killed Me." Don’t watch it on Valentine’s Day or ever, because it sucks.
5. Eat chocolate. You probably don’t have a date because you eat too much of it anyway. This is mostly directed towards myself, so please don’t get offended.


Happy Valentine’s Day, everyone!



Friday, February 6, 2009

There's an elf in my house

A few weeks ago, I cleaned my entire room. I went through plastic containers, emptied drawers, and even rearranged some furniture. While doing this, I lost a pack of nose rings. No big deal, they were the cheapy kind from Claire's but I was upset nonetheless. I even went through all the trash I threw out, to no avail. But I figured, hey, whateves, they were the cheapy kind from Claire's.

Then on Tuesday morning, I decided to put on my new earrings. I took one off the plastic thing it came on and put it on my left ear. I promptly took it off and put it down on my dresser, knowing that I didn't want to have dangle earrings on while I blew dry my hair. When I went to put the earring back on five minutes later, it was gone. Completely, 100% missing. I moved my dresser and went through every single drawer in case in fell in. I ripped my room apart. It dematerialized.

Yesterday, after a 30 minute bus ride from a meeting that was canceled without my knowledge, I came home to even more shitty luck. New Brunswick was bitterly, painfully cold yesterday. So, before going to the grocery store, I decided to come in and put on my headband for my ears. But it was nowhere to be found. I started looking for my other headband, but that was nowhere to be found either.

What the hell is going on? I know I'm not losing my mind. Yes, losing these inconsequential things is affecting me more because there's a lot on my plate right now, but there's no way that I'm just misplacing all of this stuff. So what I'm convinced of is that there is a leprechaun sitting somewhere with my earwarmers wrapped around him, examining the way the light bounces off my jewelry. Or perhaps a goblin is giggling while he runs around my feet, tripping me on purpose and hiding my things to drive me crazy.

Now that I've sufficiently creeped myself out, hopefully this is the goblin wreaking havoc on my life:

And this the leprechaun:

Tuesday, February 3, 2009

Put the chicken fingers down

After my alliterative friend downed 16 Keystones and started his own impromptu dance party while celebrating the outcome of the Superbowl, the roommates and I cleaned up our little party. The one-dimpled friend who brought his beautiful big screen TV in addition to his HD cable box didn't feel like taking it home, so he said he'd come back in a few days to pick it up.

As you may or may not know, today was the season premiere of "Heroes," which is (embarrassingly enough) my favorite show as of late. My Sylar crush is entirely inappropriate and I just want to put Hiro Nakamura in my pocket because he's so damned cute.

To tie my first two paragraphs together, the cable box on loan is a DVR which means I could record "Heroes" while I was at a basement show. I was so excited and when I wrote my schedule for the day, I included coming home to watch "Heroes" on a big screen TV, fast forwarding through the commercials. HOWEVER no such thing took place. Everyone who knew what they were doing told me that it was all set to record at 9/8c. Granted, I don't know how to work these new fangled television sets with their flat screens and high definitions, but I think I know enough to know that there were no genetically superior heroes and villains waiting for me.

So while I was standing awkwardly in a stranger's basement listening to surprisingly good jams, I had the hopes that when I came home and put on my pajajays, I could sit on the couch and marvel in the high-definition large screened goodness that is Monday nights on NBC. Alas, the gods spared me a parking ticket when I parked somewhere before I was allowed to only to take away the one thing that got me out of bed this morning.

The gods have a sick sense of humor.