The Rules of Attraction

Me: Why is Emily Blunt dating Michael Bublé?

Curly: I think he's a total dufus, but he is good-looking. I can't help it. I like his smile.

Me: Really?

Curly: Yes

Me: Ew

Me: I mean, you're totally entitled to your opinion ;)

Curly: Ha ha ha. I was just thinking that it would be very convenient if I was straight because you and I would never compete over the same guys.

Me: Totally

Curly: We share a brain in many respects but not with this.

Me: Yep

Curly: Like, when you think of Tommy Lee, you think "hot."

Curly: When I think of Tommy Lee, I think "smelly fingers probably."

Me: HA! And true, on both counts.

Transition

So you know how sometimes you meet a guy, and he’s really cute and super nice and gainfully employed and he takes you to nice restaurants and buys you flowers and you should, theoretically, like him, only you don’t, and the idea of having sex with him makes you want to take a long nap, where you instead dream about having sex with Johnny Depp?

Well, that food job I took was kind of like that guy. So I quit. And I’m going back to the astrology stuff, which means less money, but also less stress, and it also means I get to work from home, in my pajamas, and still have energy left over for cooking school, which will hopefully result in my one day owning my own bakery and having many tattoos. A girl can dream, right?

Belize

I'm home from work today due to some dude named Montezuma who's, like, vengeful or something. Hooray for souvenirs! Anyway, I woke up at 3, got bored very quickly, and decided to upload my photos and spill Tostitos all over my bed. You can see beautiful photos from Belize and Guatemala over at Flickr. The Young Man has some, too. And if you'd like to see the view from one of the Mayan towers in Tikal, and hear me talk about how very scared I am to be 200 feet up, here's a short video that isn't anywhere near as entertaining as I thought it was going to be.



Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go brave a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I like to live on the edge.

Happy Monday

I got back from Belize late last night. The short version? It was awesome, and I look like a motherfucking lobster. The long version is to come, as soon as I get my pics out of my waterlogged camera and upload them.

And since most of my days aren’t complete until I’ve made a complete ass out of myself at least once, I though I’d share with you my morning subway adventure.

I was quite sunburned this morning, so I spent some time finding an outfit that was cute and would not inflict pain upon my fragile skin at the same time. I settled on a pair of jeans that just come past the knee, flower-print flats, and an army green button-down ¾ sleeve top. I assessed myself in my full-length mirror, deemed the outfit a success, threw on a jacket and was on my way.

At the Broadway-Lafayette stop, I hopped out of the F-Train to hop onto a D-train across the platform. There were no seats on the D, so I set up shop at a pole, opened up Clown Girl: A Novel and began reading. And then I noticed it. My top two buttons on my shirt had come undone at some unknown point, exposing roughly 100% of my boobs. I wrapped myself around the pole and tried to inconspicuously button my shirt before the one remaining person on the subway car who hadn’t seen my chest noticed.

You’d think the worst part of it all would be the fact that I flashed my boobs at two subway carfuls of people and possibly some passersby on two platforms. Nope. The worst part was that I had my big, white, old lady bra on when I did it, and not something at least a little bit on the cute side.

Mother’s Day

I made the trek up to Schenectady this past weekend to celebrate Mother’s day and spend some time with the family before I start culinary school and will be stuck in the city every weekend from now until eternity. As I’ve mentioned before, my mother is one of the most unintentionally hilarious people ever to walk the Earth. (Evidence here)

Anyway, we were hanging out Friday night, and she was telling me about some sketchy stuff that was going on at work. She mentioned that she’d given a co-worker some inside information and asked her to keep it “on the QT.” I pondered “on the QT.” Tried out different things it could stand for. I had nothing. I must have looked puzzled, because Mom quickly began explaining.

“Oh, it means, ‘On the Quiet.’ You young people don’t say that though. I should have said ‘on the download.’ That’s ‘on the DL,’ right?”

“Right,” I said, howling with laughter. “On the download.”

You Might Have PMS if...

... you're singing Pink's "Don't Let Me Get Me" at top volume in the shower, and when she sings the part that goes...

L.A. told me, you'll be a pop star
All you have to change, is everything you are
Tired of being compared, to damn Britney Spears
She's so pretty, that just ain't me

... you start to well up, because man, you really feel for Pink, you know? With her whole image struggle and everything?

This is all theoretical, of course. I swear it didn't happen to me in the shower this morning or anything.

Snack Shame

These are Snyders of Hanover Hot Buffalo Wing Pieces:



They are just one of many items in our snack machine at work. They are also probably the most disgusting snack ever created. Seriously -- they don't taste good. I have this wing sauce I bought even though I never make wings, and apparently something has to be done to it before you just pour it on chicken nuggets, otherwise it has this pungent taste that hurts your nostrils. Same thing with the Snyders.

However, an interesting development has occured. When I have PMS, as I do right now, and I'm sitting at my desk in the afternoon, they are all I can think about. I daydream about them. I can't focus on anything until I've poured them out of the bag onto a napkin and devoured the entire thing.

And then I feel nauseous, as I do right now. And then I wonder how I'm going to look super hot in my bikini next week in Belize if I keep shoveling disgusting food in my face.

Overheard at the Office

Guy Who Sits Near Me, To No One in Particular: What's a ball gag?

People Around Him: ... [crickets] ...

Guy Who Sits Near Me, To No One in Particular: It's not something dirty, is it?

People Around Him: ... [crickets] ...

Oh, and Miss Tanya also came over to my desk today and loudly exclaimed, "Did your boobs gets bigger?" My workplace isn't terribly appropriate.

Typhoid Mary

For those of you who were wondering why I was keeping typhoid fever vaccine in the office fridge, here’s the deal. I’m going to Belize in two weeks with The Young Man. It’s our first vacation together, but I think we’re on the same page travel-style wise, so I don’t anticipate us killing each other. Also, we’re staying in a treehouse. And we have the following activities on our itinerary – cave tubing, touring Mayan ruins, snorkeling and zip lining. I’m not entirely convinced I won’t pee myself during the latter. I’m afraid of heights, you see.

The thing is, you can’t just go to Central America. You have to get shots, and buy mosquito nets, and take medications. I have to take anti-malarial pills and typhoid fever vaccine pills. I also had to get shots for tetanus, and hepatitis A and B.

Despite the fact that I have a diabetic cat that requires twice-daily insulin shots, and despite the nose, tongue, ear and naval piercings and the tattoo, I am a huge freaking wimp when it comes to shots. I give myself panic attacks just thinking about it. I get dizzy when it happens. I think it’s because when I was in high school, I had to get a 5-hour blood glucose tolerance test (Do you they even still do those?), which required me to drink some uncarbonated, thick cola drink and then get blood taken every 30 minutes for five hours. They stuck me with a trainee, who couldn’t find my veins and decided to wiggle the needle around inside my arm. That, combined with the weakness of not eating and losing all that blood, and my blood sugar being completely wonky, made me start sobbing around hour three and I didn’t stop until it was all over and I ate a Snickers bar.

My point? I don’t have one, really, except that after all the pill side effects and things stuck in my arm, this better be the best trip of my life.

I Could be Wrong, But...

I bet I'm the only person at my workplace who has typhoid fever vaccine in the office fridge.

Psuedo-Celebrity Sighting

Yesterday, 8:30 P.M., on 11th Street between 2nd and 3rd Avenue, Sam Talbot from Top Chef. I was on the phone with Curly at the time, and I waited until he was safely out of earshot (I think) and then said “OMG OMG OMG! I just walked right by Sam from Top Chef!”



The verdict? Very tall. Very hot. Very expressionless.