Monthly Archives: April 2012

stats 4/30/2012

  • 4.12 miles ran
  • Just about 12 miles biked, I commute by bike and thusly save myself a lot of stress on this next stat
  • only 3-5 murderous thoughts against my fellow human beings. The biggest for the douche that almost doored me on the way to my joke telling
  • 21 comics, mostly patiently listened to
  • 0 booze based beverages
  • 1 pair of tights ruined

on red Wednesday

Yesterday, I went running. Not quite right. Yesterday, I tripped while running.  Better but not perfect. Yesterday, I tripped while running and ate total shit on the sidewalk. That’s more accurate.

I fell and rolled so hard that I bruised, in order of importance, my right hand, my knee, my right shoulder, my left hand, my pride. To make it worse, I hadn’t washed my face and I was listening to the audio book, “Bossypants” read by Tina Fey.

To make it the most humiliating, I had fallen about 6 feet away from a child-sized Mexican mason, scaring him so much he tossed a little bit of cement which landed next to me with a defeated sounding plop. It was the sound I imagined I made hitting the ground. Plop! I couldn’t get up right away, and the guy committing masonry was kind enough to help me. The problem with this, he truly was child-sized and came up to just above my hips. We were a hilarious couple!

I limped home thinking, “This is New York’s way of reminding me of my place,” and “That was a nice way to be reminded that I am mortal!” Then I had to go to the shitty Walgreens to buy sanitary napkins for my lady time while bruised and bleeding! I felt great!

on the squatty potty

The man and I took a trip out the the wilds of New Jersey to see Marc Maron. Yes, it was worth, if not for the stand up, then for the experience I am about to recount.

We took NJ Transit out there. Seeing as the man is pretty tall, we sat in the set of seats that have another set of seats facing them. Of course a pair of sanctimonious Elizabeth living lesbians have to make an uncomfortable ride awkward by plunking down right across from us. Having a bony old lady knee basically at my crotch made me so thankful that the train ride was smooth.

As we got on our way, after sitting in the tunnel for 30 minutes, the grayed harridan with lips in a permanent state of pursing, pulled out Paleo magazine. The tag line, “Modern Day Primal Living”. It took every fiber in me not to reach across to her, pull down the magazine and say, “When did you stop using soap?” I had to text the man next to me about them because there was no way that I could have survived the ride without saying something.

Then I just had to look up the magazine online and what do I get hit with, a give away for a thing called the Squatty Potty. Basically, this thing turns your nice, relatively comfy bathroom experience into something more like squatting over a hole in the ground in Vietnam. I bet you would love to win a device that makes an already kind of humiliating experience even more awkward, kind of like shoving your knees in between a strangers for an hour long train ride. I don’t know about you, but the only time I like my knees anywhere near my ears, is when I am on my back, getting plowed.

The comments on the give away where priceless. Here are my choice favorites:
From Holly G “Curious and curiouser. Every time I see one of these I wonder why mankind ever evolved from this method…” Really?
From JJ: “I thought this was a joke when I first saw the pic, but it actually looks very beneficial.” I still think it’s a joke.
from kevin “What’s the best strategy for explaining this to guests? Pre-emptive, or let them figure it out?” Kind of like your sex swing right? I say just let’em figure it out.

I once went on a date with a guy who read an article about paleolithic man and self cleaning, so he stopped using soap and washing his hair. When we were done with our drinks and he asked to see me again, I replied, “We don’t have to do that again.”

There’s this going on! Mastodon/Opeth/Ghost

There's this going on! Mastodon/Opeth/Ghost

on things i blurt out first thing in the morning

I find waking up an insufferable occasion not unlike submitting to sex for a prissy Victorian lady. I have a strategy to deal with it. I just let loose with what ever profanity, nonsense or vitriol that comes up to the top of my brain out of my mouth. Makes no one but me feel better and that, really, is all that I need.

A few choice phrases and conversation snippets I’ve said over the past few weeks:

  • Waking up following the cat’s 4:30am wake up call. CAT: cagh, cagh, cagh PUKE. ME (after hitting snooze for the third time): This is total bullshit.
  • ME: How you can wake up so early so effortlessly? THE MAN: I just don’t force it. ME: Oh, there are plenty of things you should force, like pooping and relationships on people. Waking up is not one of those things.
  • ME: You know a much better way to wake up would be without an alarm and with a boner in my lower back. THE MAN: giggles
  • ME: Fuck you cats! CATS: Fuck you! Feed us!

All told, fuck mornings. Stumble, stumble, drool.