Sunday, January 28, 2007
I didn’t share this realization with my friend for fear of being singled out as an obsessive food shopping freak, but I realized at that moment that I might very well have a problem. It’s just that every time I feel sad, stressed, or upset walking through the food aisles soothes me. Everything is so organized and neatly displayed. I love walking through the produce section, smelling the tomatoes, squeezing the avocados to check for ripeness. I love peeling a small section of the corn on the cob to look for impurities. I love reading the nutrition information on packaged goods, the smell of freshly baked bread. I love seeing the elderly couples and wondering what they are making for dinner or if they are having Edna and Arnie over for cribbage. Its bizarre, but sometimes I will be driving home from the gym or an appointment and I will suddenly find myself not home, but rather once again at my local Publix.
Though I make nearly the same thing for dinner nightly, I love to walk around the store seeking inspiration from new and exciting ingredients. If the tomatoes are looking particularly good, it could be time to make a fresh pasta sauce or if ground turkey on sale perhaps a pot of chili fit for an army. If I didn’t go daily I could possibly miss these shipments and specials. Although it may be a rather odd hangout for a young single gal, I would say it’s a safer addiction than say heroin…
** As I am writing this post I literally am fighting the urge to go back to Publix as I was there earlier this morning and forbidden to buy wine prior to 12 pm.
Saturday, January 27, 2007
Yesterday I ventured out to the Post Office arms filled with fabulous goodies. Valentine's with little pink hearts, glittery treats, and heart felt wishes overflowed from my giving arms. And as I returned home to check my own mail, only with hopes of the replacement ATM card I had requested, what do I find? Jury Duty and my car bill. I am sick of this adulthood bull. At college when I would check the mail there would only be cards or packages or nothing at all. Now every time I look its one more bill, fine, or duty to be served. And you know how they found me? They found me because I took the time and consideration to vote. I get no thank you, or "good for you", no pat on the back. All I get is jury duty. It also most likely does not help that most Fort Lauderdale residents achieve exemption due to the 70-year-old age limit. So in essence I get slammed for being a young voter. I wonder what would happen if I stop being lazy and envious, as well as stop voting and recylcing...
**And just so everyone knows my TV channel changer broke mid post and I somehow ended up on some cartoon show with singing and dancing vegetables, where the main message is that friends last longer than donuts. Just to emphasize the point that someone is indeed out to get me. If you are reading this please send help.
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
In a chimerical moment the sun gently shimmered around my computer screen as a favonian breeze lightly blew a stray hair out my eyes. “The Food and Wine” section shone like a majestic watering hole for a hungry reader. As I read on Frank Bruni made the rest of the Times' staff look like the everyday ignoramus. "Finally someone that can actually string a sentence together with a bit of finesse,” I exhaled with relief. I would urge you to read the attached article and perhaps continue to read Mr. Bruni’s article every Wednesday! I mean why not? A man with a reasonable IQ and a penchant for food, what could be better?
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
Monday, January 22, 2007
First of all, who actually says "hired help" anymore? Is it 1930 and no one told me? Second of all, since we are dishing out judgments, the poor guy probably thought she was the hired help too and I don't think he thought she was there to serve pigs in a blanket. She continues to loudly describe the absurdity of these advances to her friend whom I have now realized appears to be a miniature mute, but I miss out on the sordid details as I decide to move away from this classist overvolumized fool. As I snicker in disgust and huff off by myself, I also secretly harbor a tiny joy. "Oh feelings of hatred and pity towards those less evolved and fabulous than me", I think to myself, "Welcome to the gym".
**You may be thinking that my feelings of superiority are equally distasteful as the feelings MMM has towards the hired help, however they are not. I use my feelings of superiority as a way to humor myself and cope with the lackluster status of my life. I also openly admit having these feelings and that they are in fact unreasonable. I feel that this admittance rids me of the incorrect nature of my initial feelings. Therefore, I shall hate on and continue my path of anger-fueled humor.
Sunday, January 21, 2007
This is what I like to call virtual matchmaking. After meeting someone at a restaurant whom I believed to be a great match for a friend my whole family pitched in (as I am currently hundreds of miles away) to facilitate a romantic encounter for the two we wished to match. And though they may not be engaged at this present time they have at least enjoyed a beverage and a good chat together! I am pretty sure there is some fact somewhere that a friend introduced most couples to each other. If there is not a statistic to prove it then lets just go ahead and take my word for it because it makes sense. Follow my logic. I like you, you like me (just go with it), so if I like someone else, you just might too!
People are very busy and also often times quite humble so I think I have determined my life's goal is to become a professional matchmaker! I have already made one successful match! After being an atmosphere at school where there is a large base of people with similar interests and goals as you and entering a city as large as New York for example it is hard to focus and find love matches. So it is important to take a risk and if you meet someone, even briefly, who could be a new friend for you or another, talk to him! I think I may be on to something here. See someone nice, talk to him... hmmm what a concept. It is sad that this doesn’t happen more often in daylight and sobriety. If this concept leaves you feeling queasy, leave the hard stuff to me!
**Mom I know you are reading this and probably thinking that I am taking all the credit for your hard work. This is true, but I just acknowledged it so we're cool right? I am willing to write you into the business plan, as we could probably make a pretty good team.
Friday, January 19, 2007
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
After walking through the double doors leading to heavenly muscle building and calorie burning people become almost psychotically happy. I don't know whether people save up all of their joy to be used during their designated gym time or if all happy people are hoarded at the gym, but it is actually fairly frightening. I spend most of my day wanting to punch people or at the very least shut them up in some non violent way and then I get to the gym and I am supposed to morph into some hyped up speed freak?? I attended a spinning class last night and when I closed my eyes I honestly did not know if I would wake up soaked in sweat from a nightmare or if I would be soaked in sweat on my stationary bicycle. Legs were spinning so fast I swear I could see smoke rising from 90% of the knee joints in the room. There was whooping and laughing, screaming and chanting. People were high fiving and back slapping. I have never seen anything like it. I have never in my life witnessed so much energy in one room in my life.
Although I was a wee bit scared, there was part of me that felt left out. There was a part of me that wanted to join their secret happy club. I wanted to jump up out of my seat with determination rather than feeling like I may just have to tip off my bike instead. And there was a part of me that wondered is this a natural endorphin induced high or are these people a result of a chemically induced state of mind? And if it is the latter, I may just have to ask one of these days, “Who’s your dealer??”
Sunday, January 14, 2007
Perhaps it is due to my extreme whiteness, but I am utterly fascinated by issues of race in the US. I have recently become especially spellbound by what I like to call interior racism. This is when people of a particular race discriminate against others of the same background. One Black person telling another he is white washed. Another Latina telling another she doesn’t dance like a true Latina. Or that he or she should speak a certain way. Brian, one of our newfound friends is of Cuban origin. Two white parents adopted him and due to this fact he says he speaks no Spanish and claims he will never visit Cuba.
I could not believe this. What I would give to have such a culturally rich background. The food, the people, to have a native tongue different from English! I could not hide my disdain that he did not so much as speak Spanish. I tried to recover, but he interrupted to assuage my guilt by telling me he received this reaction frequently. When ordering in restaurants he has constantly had to stop waiters when they address him in Spanish. Each time he claimed, the waiter would be filled with disgust telling him he should speak the language of his ancestors. I had to also ask him why he would not want to see where he was from. Why wouldn’t he want to speak the language of his culture? But apart from his darker skin tone why would his culture be anything other than that of the couple that raised him? That became his family? And furthermore who am I to determine that any person should be any particular way? I am somewhat Scottish and a little bit Canadian. Should I dine only on Haggis? Or wear only a kilt? Should I say aboot instead of about? I do enjoy “O Canada”, but it’s not the only song I sing!
We all have stereotypes we impose upon different cultures and races other than our own, but I am interested to learn that similar and more potent stereotypes exist within the same cultures and races. Although I would love it if race weren’t an issue, I wonder if that will ever be the case. There will always be a black mother devastated when her son brings home a white fiancé and unfortunately a father that will not be able to hide his discomfort wtih a daughter’s black boyfriend. I will never be able to dance and I will blame this on my whiteness. Similarly there will always be the groups of Cubans that will shame the Cuban American that doesn’t make an effort to identify with a culture he feels should only be the past. I feel that interior racism is just as prevalent as exterior racism, if not more so. I guess the puppets from Avenue Q are correct everyone is a little bit racist and I think on some level this will most certainly be the case for a long long while.
Dear Sir or Madame:
The purpose of this document is to present why I was wrongfully issued two Notices of Violation on Saturday, 1/6/07. As I will be out of town during the week of February 13th, this document should be presented to the Fining Committee in my absence. The violations will first be outlined and then refuted below.
The first violation was issued due to the accusation that a Ford Pickup truck with tag # S31-0HR, which was allegedly registered to my unit, was parked on property at 1:30 am. The second violation was issued at 7:10 am of the same day. A Ford Pickup truck with tag T06XAD was backed into a parking space, endangering the shrubbery below its monstrous exhaust pipe.
I do recognize both counts as direct infringements of policies listed in both the Vehicle and Parking sections of the Bay Colony Club Handbook. These rules state that not only are vehicles not allowed to back into spaces due to the aforementioned endangerment of flora, but in addition no pickup truck is allowed on premise between the hours of 11pm and 8 am. However, as I had no guests on the date in question, these violations are the liability of another. Upon my return home on 1/6/07 at approximately 1:00 am, I noted a red pickup truck was backed into the parking spot registered to my unit. I contemplated calling Security, but due to the late nature of the incident I opted ultimately to wait until a more reasonable hour, as I am sure Security opted to do when they did not present the violations at the time incurred. Later in the morning on Saturday, the truck had been removed. Although, the vehicle in question was illegally parked in my spot, the guest was of no relation to me. Once the records are re-checked I am sure they will reveal that no guest was registered to my unit on this evening and furthermore, if license plate numbers were properly recorded, the actual resident in violation should be revealed.
As a new resident in Bay Colony Club I have found the experience to be extremely gratifying. The landscaping is well maintained; guards are courteous and helpful, the office prompt in offering their assistance, and the residents friendly and caring. However, this incident does raise a level of concern that guest records are not correctly assembled. The notice of violation that I was issued states that the vehicle incurring the violations was registered to my unit, which was in fact never the case. Furthermore, the guilty vehicle was permitted on premise approaching the aforementioned illegal times. Had this been highlighted upon their arrival, perhaps this incident could have been avoided. I am hoping that this is in fact a rare occurrence rather than the status quo. I do appreciate the time you have taken to issue my violations and process my rebuttal.
Warmest Regards and Happy New Year,
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
Monday, January 08, 2007
Today I ventured out into the world in broad daylight to enjoy what is sometimes referred to as a lunch date. This was not a lunch date of the romantic persuasion, but more of a business endeavor. However, lunch dates are not the topic at hand, but more how I manage to turn every day-to-day situation into ones of the utmost awkwardness. It all began when I met up with a fellow alumnus for a brief lunch meeting to discuss an event we are planning to host. Upon entering the sandwich/smoothie establishment we had selected, I excused myself to use the restroom. As I found my way to the back of the restaurant I should have been alarmed by the numerous boxes and cleaning supplies piled precariously around the restroom door. I should have foreseen this as a flight obstruction. However, I did neither of these things and upon my decision to exit the restroom I realized that I was stuck. Perhaps I had slammed the door with such force that it lodged the boxes into a position that barricaded the door? Or maybe a rebellious sandwich maker opted to play a nervy joke on a young lass merely looking for a midday meal?
After considering these options and reaching no conclusion I began to panic. What if no one came back to use the restroom? What was my new acquaintance whom I had met moments prior thinking being that I had been missing for several minutes? As I pushed at the door and tried to wriggle my way out of this disaster I then began to wonder to myself why these situations happen only to me. Does fate think its funny to lock me in bathrooms and try to find my way out? To lock me out of movie theaters when on a romantic date? To spill my drink in lunchrooms? To trip on rugs at job interviews? Does someone think these embarrassments and inconveniences just roll off my back? I can assure you they do not. I may laugh and attempt to play these things off as revitalizing humor, but make no mistake I am keeping score. Fortunately, I was able to escape and though I am sure my lunch date was confused, at least she was polite. But let it be known I am expecting some sort of good karma to be coming my way in the near future. And I will not rest until it is received.
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
1. There are more floral designs in my apartment than an entire Laura Ashley catalogue
2. My affinity for sheep collectibles
3. The fact that there are more stuffed animals on my bed than people in my cell phone
4. I own more cardigans than tube tops
5. I now currently spend more time in my home office than the entire world combined spends indoors
6. I am starting to enjoy the Enya part of spinning because the other parts are just too loud
7. I am getting used to being alone
8. I feel that doilies would not seem out of place in my home
9. I don't flinch as much anymore when people ask if I am a "cat" person
10. Then of course there is my adoration for precious fuzzy kitties
If you happen to ring me up and you hear any sort of meowing or hissing in the background please immediately hang up and call 911. This could potentially get serious.