Stuff That I Don’t Like but Everyone Else Seems to Adore: A List

To all my fans, sorry I have been too busy to blog lately, but I'm back with a new installment, so rejoice! Anybody...? Hello? Is this thing on? *tap tap tap*

Uh...anyway. I was bored and made a list today. I enjoy lists, they ground me, they make me feel like I have accomplishments, goals, and organization in my life. Or something. Well, as much as I like lists, I realized that there are many, many things in this world that I dislike. As a result, I decided to compile a list of some of those things. This is not a "Top Ten" list, it's more of a "First 10 Things That Came to My Mind" list, but whatever. Here goes...

1. Coffee. Being a teacher, this is nearly sacrilegious. I just never got into it. I don’t really like the smell at all and I certainly don’t need it to jumpstart my day the way some people seem to have the need to take it intravenously every morning. I’ve tried the flavored ones, regular, light, dark, iced, etc…but nothing does it for me. If I want a warm beverage, I’ll reach for tea, or hot chocolate if I’m in the mood. Or a white hot chocolate from Dunkin Donuts…those suckers are the bomb-diggity. They taste like a hot liquid marshmallow and have enough sugar to send me to the moon and back. Interestingly, I’m a fan of coffee ice cream, even though I’m not that wild about ice cream in general…go figure.

2. Dogs. *dodges the rotten tomatoes that are being hurled in my direction* I mean, some of them are cool, but in general, I am not a fan. Large dogs scare me and small ones irritate me (except for that cutie-patootie on the Cesar Dog Food cans!). I know I’m not making a lot of fans here, but I’m just telling it like it is, folks. And the idea of having a “Toby’s new Trick” moment on my carpet one day doesn’t help matters. If you’ve seen the commercial, you know what I mean. And I don’t even HAVE carpeting. I know I’m gonna hear about this one later…

3. Tiramisu. Yes, I know, I’m Italian, but I also don’t drink wine and dislike most olives, which is why the I-Ti United Club has been hounding me to give in my membership card for years now. Plus, they found out I don’t speaka the Italiano very mucho. Anyway, I don’t know what it is about the sogginess or flavor of tiramisu that turns me off instantly, but it does. That’s probably good because I have enough food vices as it is, now pass me a cannoli, per favore…

4. The Office. As in, the television show. I just…don’t get it. Same with 30 Rock and Curb Your Enthusiasm and...well, I could list SO many more TV shows here, but I’m a very busy woman and I haven’t got all day (name that film/song!), so I’ll leave it at that. But yeah, not feeling it. (By the way, I never realized what an odd word "Enthusiasm" was until I just typed it. The "siasm" is totally throwing me for a loop. But I digress.)

5. Basketball. It actually makes me very, very angry for some reason. Despite my vertically-challenged status, I actually don’t mind playing basketball, but the NBA just incites a burning hatred inside me for reasons unknown.

6. Michelle Obama. This is not a politically-related dig in the slightest, as I’m referring to her fashion-symbol status and not her affairs of state. She’s in every freakin’ frackin’ fashion magazine, they praise her outfits ALL the time, and I just don’t see it. I think her style is lackluster, the fit of her clothes is often poor, and she sort of looks like the Joker. And she seems to feel the need to belt EVERYTHING! What is THAT about?!? I think Barack could’ve done better, to be perfectly frank, but to each his own. I know some of you are snapping your fingers and saying “Oh no she di’int!” right now, but deep down, beneath the stacks of Women’s Day Magazine articles, you know it’s true.

7. Muffins. Blueberry-gag. Bran-blech. Banana-dry heave. Lemon Poppy-please, make it stop.

8. Showers. Don’t get me wrong, I take them regularly, but I dislike them. Mostly because I don’t like being cold and even a hot shower involves me being cold once the water stops. Plus, I hate when my hair is wet, and it takes FOREVER to dry. Then my head is all soggy for a while. I’ve been told I look like an angry wet cat in a robe when emerging from the shower. How’s that for a sexy image?

9. The sun. I mean I’m grateful for its existence, and I know that it’s integral to our survival and all that good stuff…but I don’t like being in its ray path. Firstly, I’m pale as all heck, which I totally don’t mind, but pale folk don’t usually do well in sunlight. It’s the vampiric principle. (I just totally made that up, but it sounded good, didn't it?). Secondly, my eyes are super-sensitive to bright light, it triggers migraines, etc. I don’t think there are any decent pictures of me from the ages of 8-13 because I went through a phase where my eyes would water at the mere thought of the camera flash. We went to Disney World twice when I was a young lass and in every outdoor photo, my eyes are closed so shut that the Jaws of Life couldn’t pry the lids open.

10. Talking on the telephone. I mean, I love to talk, hoo-doggie, do I enjoy a good long gossipy chat…but on the phone? No. It makes me nervous…there is so much pressure to keep the conversation going, lest a lull shall form and, well, there’s just no recovering from a phone lull. Plus, I don’t always hear the other person clearly, and then I have to ask them to repeat themselves…and then I’m nervous that I won’t hear them the second time either, which means I’ll have to do one of the following:

A. Ask AGAIN, knowing the person is going to become annoyed with me quickly, or

B. Pretend I understood and hope that my lack of comprehension doesn’t become exposed during the rest of the conversation.

If I choose A, I’m taking a risk that I will STILL not hear the person and then B will be inevitable, if I choose B, I’ll risk looking like I wasn’t paying attention and that I am a crummy person. I should take hidden option C. Hang up and pretend the phone call got cut off.

So there it is, folks, a list of 10 things I don't like even though everyone else seems to. And there are plenty more...alcohol and gambling get honorable mentions, but I wasn't in the mood to go there.

I was just thinking, perhaps some of you feel the same way and also dislike a few of these items but have just been too shy or embarrassed to admit it. Well, I'm here to tell you, it's okay. I'll be there for you. You don't have to always go along with the masses for fear of being ostracized. We are all unique in this big, bad world. It's okay to be different, dammit!

OR...maybe now you just think I'm a freak and will refuse to associate with me on any level anymore. Hmm...it was the puppies thing, wasn't it? I knew that one would be my downfall.

Crazy People and a Big Fluffy Creature

I took the subway home from work this week and ran into several situations that reminded me of why I absolutely loathe taking the subway. I hate it so much that I am considering eliminating a few people at work to open up a parking spot in the lot so I can drive to work. But I probably shouldn't have told you that...right?...forget I ever mentioned it...

Aaaaaaanyway. Back to the crazy people on the train. There have been stories of my subway fiascos. Some, such as "The Chalk Incident," have even been dubbed legendary. Well, a new legend was almost born this week.

It all started when I started wearing high heels to work again. It had been months since I did so, and my poor dogs were CRYING after the third day. As I boarded the 5 train, I did my usual seat-scan and spotted an available seat but a man was standing in front of it. I walked over to assess the situation and the man noticed me glancing at the spot and asked if I wanted to sit. I thanked him, nestled into the spot and relaxed. I wish I could end the story there, but no. Because it was at this point that a very ghetto-looking woman with a small child of around 3 years old walked over to our area. The baby immediately began to bawl, her cries piercing the silence of the surprisingly quiet yet packed train car. The man who let me sit was reading a book and at that point, he threw his head back in exasperation and sighed...BIG MISTAKE. Ms. Ghetto Fabulous Mom-of-the-Year noticed his annoyance and threw a FIT. She started screaming that she would slap him/punch him in his mouth/rearrange his face etc. etc. etc. (she used some other choice words, but I'm keeping this a family-friendly environment here, folks). The man ignored her, so she tells her baby the cry LOUDER...

"Cry, chile! Cry harder den you ever did! Dis man actin' like he ain't never heard a baby cry before! Keep cryin'! Why you stoppin' girl?!? I want you to CRY!!! CRYYY!!!"

Awwwwwkwaaaaard. The whole car was quiet and the man continued to ignore her, so she says (and this is really where it got interesting), "Yeah, Imma f*** him up first an' den Imma slap his girlfriend there right in her mouf, too!"

Girlfriend. Hm. Wait...who??? ME?!?!?

Oh good gravy, why do these crazy people attract themselves to me like mosquitoes to a light source? There was no WAY I was going to have this Flava of Love Reject go off on ME, so I immediately responded, "Uh...exCUSE me?? I don't THINK so."

Okay, so it wasn't my most snappy comeback, but it got the job done. She seemed to realize pretty quickly that we weren't together and started snapping on him again, leaving me alone. But still...what the hell? I must have a "Psychos Welcome" sign on my back because this is not the first time this kind of wackiness has happened to me...and I doubted it will be the last.

And I was right. Not five minutes later, I had another incident as I exited the subway station and began walking home. Again, I'll keep this fairly family-friendly (hello, alliteration), but I will tell you that I was propositioned by a man who called me his "Sexy Snowflake." He then proceeded to say things that the FCC should bleep out and fine me for posting. Creepy random people.

That reminds me...I haven't seen Peaches yet this school year! For those who don't know, Peaches is an old, homeless crack addict who hangs out near my job. He used to say hi to me in the morning and compliment me...but he was always very polite about it. He used to call ME "Peaches" and somehow I started calling HIM "Peaches" back. No reason why. I haven't seen him in a while though...hope he's ok.

Before I let you all go and you realize you just wasted the last 10 precious minutes of you life reading this nonsensical dribble, I figured I'd throw in the last strange encounter I had that same day...

After Big Momma and the Snowflake, I had pretty much had it with humanity and couldn't wait to curl up in the safety of my own home...with it's window bars and house alarm. But a block away from my house, I stopped in my tracks. I stood not two feet away from some kind of furry woodland creature. It was larger than my own Merlin, rodentish but was obviously not a rat (shockingly), and it was apparently up for a staring contest. After about fifteen seconds, I tried to slowly take my phone out to get a pic of my little buddy and he scurried off under a house. I had no idea what he was and when I came home, I immediately googled all of the creatures I thought it might be.

Gopher? No...my buddy was larger.
Mole? Nope...and by the way, those are some scary-looking animals! (plus, doing a Google search will also provide you with images of people WITH moles. Like, on their face. Grody.)
Hedgehog? Not so spiky.
Beaver? Nuh-uh...the tail wasn't flat.

Finally, I had a winner. He was a GROUNDHOG. I named him Gary. More than anything, I am shocked that I would run into such a critter in my neighborhood of all places. And also, I was embarrassed to realize that until this point, I pretty much had no idea what the difference was between a gopher, mole, and groundhog. And now I do. Well, sorta.

So in the end, I ran into a bunch of losers that day, but made a new camera-shy friend. Of course, there's always the chance Gary may have rabies, but I'm sure our new friendship can overcome such a hurdle.

My Observations in NYC

Today I had to take a trip far, far away to...Brooklyn. Or as I often like to call it, Crooklyn. It was just to Court Street, which is barely a stop away from Manhattan, but it just SEEMS like so....far....awaaaaayyyyy. I'm such a crappy New Yorker. (Are Bronxites even considered New Yorkers? It's not like we live in "The City," which only ever seems to refer to Manhattan.) Going into "The City" from Da Boogie Down B-X always feels like such a chore for me, so having to go to Crooklyn today felt like a downright voyage. I spend waaaaaayyyyy more time in Westchester pretending I have money and class and stuff than in The City. Because, well, it smells. Even the nicer parts smell. And the trains, ugh. And the prices? Blah. And...well, I could go on and on, but I'm getting sidetracked here. Anyway, I met my sister for lunch later on in the great Borough of Manhattan, the most densely populated county in the U.S. of A., so I made a day out of it.

I packed the essentials...a bottle of water, sunglasses (so it wouldn't look like I was looking at anyone on the subway), a nail file, pepper spray, a tattered Harry Potter book that I've already read 17 times. Okay, it wasn't pepper spray, it was Binaca, but I bet it would still burn if spritzed in someone's eyes so it serves the same purpose. And then I was off on my journey. My expedition. My great outing to King's County. Yippee.

Mostly I tried to mind my own beeswax, but I did make some observations while sitting in that subway car for hours and hours and hours. The first observation was noted as I was trying to avoid any and all eye contact and that's why it involves the topic of...TOES. Here's the thing folks, sandals are a priviledge, not a right. If you are one of the chosen ones who are allowed to wear sandals, it should be under the pretense that you GROOM YOUR FEET. I don't want to see crusty soles with grody toenails. Why would you think this was okay??? The elderly are often the biggest offenders on this one, but today I saw a seemingly clean, barely middle aged man in a polo and khakis and sandals with the nastiest, freakiest thick gray damn toenails! I stifled a gag for goodness sakes! Man up and get a pedi, dude, or throw on some loafers! People are so nasty. Anyhoo...

My next observation is about those kids who come on the train with candy and say "Hey yo, Mah name is Blah McBlah and I'se sellin' candy. I ain't sellin' it fo' no basketball team or no football team, I'se sellin' it fo' mahself so I can stay outta trouble. So please buy some candy, I got sour Starburst, Skittles, Peanut M&M's, all a dollah so I can stay off da streets." You've got to appreciate the honesty, I suppose, but as hard as I try to sound refreshed at the startling truth, I can't help but notice these mofos are wearing sneakers that cost at LEAST three times more than my own kicks. Then while he walks away, he plugs up his ears with the headphones to his Ipod. Then I choose not to buy the damn candy, and I consider tapping into this market myself. Kid is clearly onto something.

Thirdly, I firmly believe that Manhattan should not be allowed to have decorative water fountain displays in places where there are no available restrooms. You see the pretty water, you hear the pretty water, you can't find a place to pee. Not nice, Mr. Bloomberg, not nice. I expect you will be speaking to your City Planner about this ASAP. K-thx-bye.

Fourth-WTF is up with the Duane Reades on every effing corner? There are CVS's, and Rite Aids, but no drugstore seems more prevalant in The City than Duane Reade. How did they even stay in business that way?

Lastly, I hate how those pretzel stands smell so wonderful at noon, but by the time 5 pm rolls around, they permeate the air with the smell of burnt dirt. It's revolting. And okay, I don't really know what burnt dirt smells like, but I imagine it would be pretty much like that. The odor gets in my clothes, in my hair, and by the time I get home all I want to do is take an exfoliating shower to scrub off the grime. Maybe two showers if the first one doesn't take. Do Manhattanites become immune to this smell after a while, I wonder?

I noted plenty more than those few observations, but my allergies seem to have become exacerbated by the toxic fumes of The City and unfortunately the sweet fresh Bronx air is, well, neither sweet nor fresh so it's not helping. For these reasons and the fact that I just gosh darn feel like it. I deem this blog post done. DONE I SAY!

Edited to add: I don't HATE NYC, guys, I really don't. I'm just not...built for it. I'll love it forever for it's wide selection of international cuisine, for that alone it can not be surpassed.

Laziness

I previously wrote that "Laziness" would be the title of my second blog entry, and by Jove, I'm stickin' to that. Especially since it explains why I haven't written in here since I started this blog last week. Laziness.

It is 11:30 and I have not yet eaten breakfast while most people living in the US Eastern Time Zone are starting to let their minds wander towards lunch. Why? Laziness. Nutritional laziness.


The Mr. and I often chat via instant messaging. Even when we are both home. In our itty bitty teeny tiny 5 room apartment. "Hey babe, did you feed the cat?" "Of course I did!" "Then why do I hear you running to the pantry to do it now?" "Dammit." Why do we do this? Laziness. Communication laziness.


I have been home a LOT lately, yet my vacuum cleaner has been collecting dust. The laundry pile has been collecting dust. The duster has been collecting dust. The reason? Laziness. Domestic laziness.


I stopped writing this blog entry for the last hour and a half just to mope around the house and read a magazine. ¿Por qué? Laziness. Blogging laziness.


I've been ordering waaaaaay too much takeout lately. Can you guess the reason? Yep. Laziness. Culinary laziness. And also...because I just can't get enough Thai Chicken Pahd See Ew. It's yummilicious.


Is the word "laziness" starting to look warped to anyone else? I have typed it so many times that it is starting to just look like a bunch of letters randomly put together, but the word has lost all meaning.

I've really go to work on improving this issue...but not just yet. I'm feeling too lazy at the moment to bother. And where's that Thai take-out menu???


I leave you with this parting image (Taken over 2 years ago, but I love that you can see I was too lazy to remove the stickers from my laptop. How very apropos.):

Hi. Hello. And Howdayado? <-Does that look like "How Do You Do?" Maybe not.

Welcome to all of you who had nothing better to do than to peruse through the miniscule aspects of my existence. I applaud you, because if you have/had a blog, my bored self would likely be doing the same thing.

Let me start with the reason I decided to start a blog...actually, I mean to start ANOTHER blog. I had a Livejournal many, many moons ago, but eventually abandoned it for reasons unbeknownst to me. Seriously. It's not like my life suddenly became so eventful that I no longer had the time to put into it. I just...stopped. Had nothing more to say, I guess. Oh, that, and I forgot the password.

One might assume, then, that I now HAVE something to say, but one would be wrong. I am pretty much doing this because it's summer time and I am sick and tired of being "that Facebook girl." You know the one. She's the one who sits there and refreshes the page every 1.7 minutes in desperate hope that someone will have posted something new, perhaps even-and this makes her extra giddy-as a response to something SHE has already posted!!! Sad, really. I spent my yesterday in this sorry state. August 18, 2009 is a day I will never get back, and I didn't do a ding dong thing with it. When I am on my deathbed one day, waiting to meet my maker-or St. Peter-or the cold hard earth-whatever, I will be saddened to recall that there was a day that I wasted doing nothing but waiting for Facebook updates. I could have been canoeing, aiding the elderly, discovering a cure for the common cold, or drafting a letter to my local congressman, but no. I decided to drape myself over the air conditioner and watch the minutes pass me by. Le sigh. Wait...where was I going with all of this?

Oh yes. My reason for starting a blog. Boredom. In fact, I should title this post "Boredom," but I won't. Know why? Laziness. But I'll save that for blog entry numero dos.

And as a 'thank you' to those who actually took time out of your precious lives to read this, I present to you a picture of the curious mutant phenomenon of Merlin the Feline Laser, just because I can:

Government officials are investigating.