November 2004 Archives
Even though taking the bus to the airport is basically free, it is not advisable if it is A) raining, B) a major holiday that sparks a mass exodus out of the city, C) a holiday in which everyone is carrying a huge amount of luggage, D) you need to factor in less than 2 hours travel time to the airport, or D) ALL OF THE FREAKIN’ ABOVE. Although D didn’t turn out to matter because our flight was delayed for two hours. But it was okay, because we didn't have any food and had to drive for two hours once we landed.
Santa Claus lives in a little red plywood house in the middle of Memorial Park in St. Marys, Ohio. He’s a big fan of classic movies and Roy Rogers, but hates the Celina Chamber of Commerce. He once went to visit a little girl who was in a car accident induced coma and when he said, “Santa’s here,” she woke right up and all the local papers called it a miracle. He also goes by Jim.
All the signs in St. Marys, Ohio spell it just like that. “Marys.” Like they’re Latvian. Or perhaps just apostrophe-impaired like some people.
(Doesn’t this just about sum her up? She just needs the matching hat that says, “But I am a racist.”)
But I kid, St. Marys is waaaaay classier than Paris Hilton.
Do not, under any circumstances, go see “National Treasure.” Seriously. Unless you are really into watching a washed out Da Vinci Code with all the art (super super cheesily) replaced by national artifacts. If you were baffled by the backwards handwriting in Dan Brown’s book, or thought that the Pepsi Edge bottle that Mosiac made was totally awesome, “National Treasure” might rock your world.
Geography is edgy!
Do put cream cheese in your mashed potatoes. This is pure heaven.
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She told me that she didn’t want to start a blog that was all, “Did you see Paris Hilton on TV last night and also I drank coffee this morning and I am soooo bored.” Which I totally respect. But anyway, did you see the Apprentice last night and the figgin’ Double Elimination of Death? Well I did not because the television fritzed right before the final boardroom. As any reasonable person might do, I called Kelly and calmly explained my situation (“Oh my god oh my god! What’s happening! What did Carolyn say! What’s going on!”) and she aided by propping the phone against her television. It is either a testament to modern technology or our sad, sad addiction to Trump-related reality tv, but three of us hovered around my cell phone in order to hear the last five minutes of the show.
The fact that twitch bitch Maria and her bedazzled suit jacket were fired almost makes up for the fact that I missed seeing it happen.
Krista is back from her safari in Africa all tanned and traveled. She was too tired to give us the slide show, although she did regale us with stories of wildebeests, bungalows, and vindictive rich girls. Maybe I can persuade her to do a guest entry on The Real Tanzania.
I will leave you this fine Friday with some catalogue covers. We are on some mailing list that solicits us to buy lots of weird junky things. One gag gift at Spencers on your credit card and they think they have their market for insulting t-shirts and boob remote controls pegged. Anyway, this catalogue is called “Things You Never Knew Existed,” which is sort of a promising title.
Think of all the things you never knew existed. I would totally flip through something that sold me straight bananas, or artificial limbs for dolphins, or even cockroach controlled robots. Their main pull, however, seems to be more along this line:
Although, I have to admit, I’m now curious what the inaugural issue of 1914 contained.
And lastly, here is the unfortunate cover of this month’s J. Crew catalogue
Layer on the patterns, kids, orphan chic is here!
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Like this weekend when J and I were starting our dinner of Chinese takeout and we realized that the “This American Life” episode we were listening to was about dead bodies and other appetizing things. There was a point in one of the stories where this guy (who is a cleaner, a la “Pulp Fiction”) is going into the apartment of a not-so-recently deceased guy and hears a sound. He knows he shouldn’t be hearing any sounds because the electricity has been turned off and there’s nothing alive in the apartment. It was then and there that I decided I could go the whole rest of my life without ever learning what the sound turned out to be. I plugged my ears and let my mind wander over a PG version of whatever the story was while I watched J’s face fall in disgust before giving me the all-clear.
Avoidance lalala.
So our kitchen at work has had a little bug problem for a while. It is a new problem and one that is not easily linked to anything. Everything is properly stored, and we don’t have much in the way of perishables anyway. Nonetheless, there have been bugs. Big gross bugs. And lord. Do I hate. Bugs. Especially cockroaches, which J is always trying to get me to “respect” because they are so adept at living. I choose to hate them for this quality instead. Anyway, office, bugs, yech.
I make the coffee in the morning, and on a couple of occasions I have lifted the water filter lid and saw a big ol cockroach scurrying around in there. These are also occasions where I have abruptly stopped making coffee, walked away, and bought me some nice, sterile, Starbucks for several days in a row. But at some point, someone would give the machine a good cleaning and I would again drink office coffee. We sprayed the office awhile ago and I have seen less bugs.
This morning was a bug finding morning and I sat there caffeine-less at my desk for several hours. By then, my coffee needs started to outweighed by bug fear. I decided I would peek in, and if there were no bugs I would give everything a good cleaning again. So I worked up the courage to peek in.
And. Holy. Bejeezus.
There were bugs. S! Plural! Baby bugs! And a white thing! That might have been an egg! (That in particular is a detail I’m trying to wash from my brain.) I calmly sat down and told my boss I thought there might have been baby bugs in the coffee maker. “Might!" I couldn’t even bring myself to relay the full details. I spared his mind! (Sorry sick co-worker who was out today and didn’t know all this! I only hope you skip this entry and I can spare you, too!)
Luckily, he works fast and decisively and we dumped the whole thing in a trash bag and sprayed the hell out of the inside of the bag as well as the kitchen.
I haven’t seen another bug today which you could look at as good. Or you could look at it as the bugs were LIVING IN THE COFFEE MAKER and we’ve been DRINKING BUG COFFEE. Which I’m trying very hard not to do. Very hard.
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So burritos? Sorta sucky. Not so sucky? Health insurance. Health insurance, in fact, is top on my list of Things To Love Today, along with Starbuck’s gingerbread lattes (as were recommended by lots of you out there). I have a new health insurance, which for some reason is getting me out of co-pays that I usually have to fork over. So not only did I not have a co-pay, but my doctor is of the type to hand out lots of free samples of my prescription meds. Free! So I do believe I actually turned a profit on this office visit.
The magazines in the waiting room were a bit of a puzzle. Since it’s a gynecology office, I guess I sort of expected the same fare that’s strewn around the hairdresser’s: Elle, Redbook, Vanity Fair, etc. Or perhaps even a Working Mother or Baby or something for those in the family way (hee…family way). But here’s what was there: The Economist, Esquire, Fortune. Are these for the dads? For money-interested women? This put me in the strange position of being proud that she’s not bound by stereotype, annoyed that there wasn’t something trashier to read, and then embarrassed for wanting something trashier, and then seriously, I just want to read some hair tips or 75 New Ways to Blow His Mind. Eh. I read Esquire and learned a fabulous new way to fold pants on a hanger.
Apprentice PS: Ok, I realize Chris totally sucked ass on this one. Really sucked ass. But when can we get rid of Ivana and Maria for godsake? When, oh apprentice lords--I mean The Donald--when will they be fired? Why are they still there? Also, why couldn't I have gotten engaged a few months earlier and received The Knot notice and done wedding shopping with the apprentices?
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Aaaand speaking of vile: Raj and Stacy R? Sick. Seriously, folks.
Current Mysteries at Casa de Liz and J:
Air Fern
While at Lowe's awhile ago, J and I were sidetracked by the plant department. I was on the hunt for a basil plant, but when none were forthcoming we started browsing through all the greenery. That's when J came across the air fern. It was a small, very light plant of bright green coloring inside a tiny ceramic holder, and had a sign boasting that this plant was, in fact, a "miracle plant."
The sign went on to say that the air fern "thrived on neglect" and didn't need any water or sunlight to live. For someone who completed accelerated biology in ninth grade, you would think that this would have been my first indication that perhaps something was a bit funny with the ol' air fern, but we were taken in. Plus J said it smelled exactly like clean dog and who doesn't like a plant that smells exactly like clean dog? The fern did seem to thrive--in that it didn't die, and retained its color--but I needed some google to tell me more about it. That's when we discovered this miracle plant is less "plant" and more "dead, dyed skeleton of a marine animal harvested from the bottom of the English Channel". And there was also some infomercial on it we missed.
I don't think Lowes should be selling this in the plant department. Unless the buyers at Lowes were hoodwinked as well! Conspiracy!
Smelly Shoes
Pinky is a very nice and docile cat who cuddles and prides herself on being sweet and cute. Max is totally nuts. He needs attention all the time and if you don't give it to him he climbs up on stuff he's not supposed to climb up on and knocks breakable things over. Or sometimes he becomes obsessed with a spot on the wall and tries to claw his way up to it to KILL IT and we have to pick him up and show him that the spot is a clump of paint that dried funny. So we are either to conclude he is an interior design fanatic with a penchant for clean surfaces and quality paint jobs, or a total pain in the ass. Guess which we've picked?
His latest thing is a complete obsession with J's shoes. He was snuffing around them and sticking his head inside and loving them like someone and a box of Reese's Pumpkins. We thought this was all fun and games because when he is obsessed with shoes this keeps him from interrupting us when we're watching television. Because how can I cry about JJ's family thinking he's dead in Vietnam and also the blind autistic kid getting a pretty room, when I'm trying to shoo him off the bookshelves. People: I cannot. So smelly shoes = good.
But honestly, what did he step in? I don't know of any catnip patches growing around here. We started to get concerned when Max moved from snuffing to actual licking, and from licking to chewing. Our final guess is that he might be smelling banana remnants that were all over the street, leftover from the marathon. He does like produce.
Maybe Jones should market a smelly shoe soda for cats.
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Thanks Ahe!
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Yesterday, one of my coworkers told me that her friend went into labor a week early and the doctors blamed it on stress from the election. That sounds like an article in the making: election day induced illness. I’ve been kind of a mess myself, with a sore locked jaw (clenched teeth at night?) and stomach spasms. Some of it is from the election, but I’m considering it the cherry on top of the stress sundae (mmm anxiety sprinkles) that’s been building for a while.
There’s the worry about this ongoing project I’m involved in that requires me to talk to Important People and get them to agree to volunteer, but if they can’t volunteer or don’t get back to me, I have to deal with The Big Important Person and that fills me with a very multi-faceted anxiety. See, even writing about this makes my stomach hurt. I’ll stop this paragraph now because no one likes reading veiled references and Capitalized Pronouns.
There is also the wedding planning that is freaking me out. All I want is nice and simple. Dancing and drinks. A few flowers, a few photos. This turns out to be a monstrous undertaking because we want to do it in Brooklyn, are on a budget, and don’t own a large empty house and yard for 120 people to mill around in. I just really don’t want to stress about it, but now I’m talking to caterers and I never wanted to be talking to caterers and they have all these rules and taxes and you must have cocktail tables and ack.
And perhaps the biggest thing weighing on my heart is a tragedy. We found out last year that my mom’s friend’s son, who was 28, was diagnosed with cancer. It spread very quickly and he never became well enough for the surgery they had hoped for. It all seemed so bleak and unfair. I can’t wrap my head around how prevalent cancer has been in my life, affecting people I know with such startling thoroughness. But this was the first time it was someone my age. I never met him, but got updates through my mom, so came to really pull for him. J and I sent him a Brooklyn Superhero Supply shirt and a can of anti-matter for fun. He steadily declined, and last week he knew he wasn’t going to make it. He decided he wanted to propose to his longtime girlfriend and his mom ran all over town to get the heirloom diamond set in a ring. The girlfriend accepted and they exchanged vows shortly afterwards. He died an hour later.
I can hardly process the love and sadness there, so it has set up somewhere in my chest and comes out for a sad commercial or election results. I didn’t really know him, so it’s not a loss I’m experiencing, but more of a quiet look at a piece of life that is sitting heavily next to me right now.
La.
Tomorrow I am planning on sleeping way in, dragging myself to yoga, and making homemade pizza. Small things I’m hoping will help loosen my jaw and unclench my stomach.
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I thought we all needed a little cheering up, so I’m sharing with you some little gems J and I found while on planes last weekend. Here is my favorite ad from SkyMall (which, by the way, is about one lewd shirt away from Harriet Carter).
There are so many awesome things here: the mandatory, albeit totally irrelevant, intro line, the baffling definition of a common word, the fact that a dog would most likely pick this thing up like a stick. And, like, it’s kinda pervy.
Moving onto the safety instruction pamphlet
You’ll notice that they’ve decided to veer away from the traditional cartoon renderings and go whole hog with some striking character actors. I wonder if these were paid models or whether they were unwitting volunteers who work in the art department in corporate headquarters. In any case, let’s take a gander at this scene:
Now, stripy shirt is doing an awesome job. He looks totally freaked out, but also a little like he’s hoping to take off and fly. Purple Shirt back there…well, J says she is just preparing to slide with her arms in the proper about-to-slide-calmly-out-of-burning-death-trap stance. But I don’t know…I think she may have pushed Stripy out of the door because she is motivated by self-preservation and HELL if slow ass ugly shirt dude is going to keep her from getting out alive.
And if we look a little closer:
…we’ll see that she has in fact jumped over him and is well on her way to safety in that green field over there that was not at all created in Microsoft Paint.
Hey, dog eat dog, man.
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