Wednesday, October 22, 2008

Many irons in the fire

...as they say. None of which I am terribly interested in, but hey that's how it goes when you graduate with a liberal arts degree. Grad School is looking more and more like something I want to do, but the price tag deters me like every other little thing. (Including replacing my 12 year old car, with something new...er) Worrying is for old people, like my Pop Pop, and my parents.

I've had a brutal UTI this past week, and may or may not have passed fragments of kidney stones again. Never a better time to be lacking in health insurance. The game you can play with it is exciting though. I get to place bets with myself regarding how much of one I can pass in one sitting. Urinating blood? That's ok, it's a good sign that there is still blood pumping. I must drink upwards of 50 ounces of water per day, is that not enough? Am I 80 years old with the exterior of a 22 year old? I guess it's kind of hilarious...to me anyway.

Thursday, September 11, 2008

This is old

Some people love candy corn (or simply like it) and some hate it. Who cares either way? I don't mind the stuff, but after a few chews of this waxy confection it gets real old...real fast. Kind of like the upcoming season. I need a sweater in the morning sometimes now, and that's ok. But soon I will need a coat ALL DAY, and that is not something to look forward to. I like pumpkins, pumpkin pies, hay rides and autumn leaves. I do not like feeling pain every time I step out the door, being unable to breath because of sheer wind power, and waking up earlier to warm my car up.

Winter is something to bitch about, and I am getting a head start. But it's OK. The summer equinox hasn't begun yet! There's still time to pretend.

(This is nice to read when I am on the other side of winter. I almost made it through my first "upstate winter" and what a treasure it was. I don't wish to make these a habit.)

Saturday, August 30, 2008

Backed out on the Cocks?

While crossing the street a large pick up truck drives by. I realized the secret to buying and keeping these mammoth vehicles (that probably cost over 100 bucks to fill with gas) is the fact that they are "Tax write-offs" for those with "Professional Lawn Care" businesses. Otherwise these brain-less hicks would be walking, or driving 20 year old Chrysler LeBarons.

The normal cat-calls generally come from grizzly men who lack both teeth and tact. "NICE LEGS" or shrill whistling is normal. I ignore it, because God knows acknowledging only encourages their primal and offensive behavior. I also don't take this as a compliment given the source, but also the average weight of women is roughly 300 pounds in this particular neighborhood.

Today I was wearing a fairly simple outfit. Shorts and a T-Shirt. The white travesty flies by and a woman yells to me this time. "NIIIICE OUTFIT!". Her tone was mocking, her face unfortunate. I was puzzled and amused. Was it the fact that I wasn't wearing Old Navy flip flops? Was it because I wasn't wearing sweat pant cutoffs and a stained white shirt? Did I really look that out of place? Then I remember, she lives in a mountain and drinks Schlitz like it's water.

The woman probably has 13 children, whom she strategically employed promptly as they turned five. I can imagine her cigarette damaged voice screaming at them. "Mow Faster! Mommy's gotta fill the tank today!"

Maybe this is an exaggeration. Somehow I doubt it. I really thought Warren County was the end of the line regarding country living. I am proven wrong once again. There are normal people here, but the ones who have never left NY state are much more fun and inappropriate to discuss. I want to drink with them, try to understand them. But I realize there's not much to understand. If I got on their good side though, they would learn that I am a person too! Not some anomaly.

Perhaps the two worlds should never mix. Besides, what could make for a better story to tell the family at dinner while roasting a pig. "I saw this gal today, she looked reallll weird...she musta thought she was in the city or somethin'. Overdressed and all that shit."

Thursday, August 28, 2008

Nostalgia King

Dress shoes come in two styles: Frumpy or Tacky.

Pizza in this area comes in two flavors: Bland or Unpalatable.

There is a curfew at the mall for those under 18. Oh to be young and robbed of shopping privileges.

Sunday, August 3, 2008

Old News, But Good News

I hate Canal Street, people swarming around confused and weighed down by fanny packs. Endless blocks of low rent "shops" filled with key chains and unattractive sunglasses. But this was the destination, the meeting spot. The pavement was swallowing up my feet by sheer warmth. My pale skin cried out for sunblock.

The line for the grody Subway bathroom stretched to the door. It just wasn't a viable option to start saving my epidermis from a red and painful demise. So Mike and I decided to stop in front of an apparently renowned dumpling restaurant. The Zagat Rated stickers and articles from 1998 prove to passing pedestrians the legitimacy of their meat filled dough. I began to apply the lotion, as if this were a concrete beach. I glanced into the window to make sure I had blended the protection adequately across my face. A couple looked up at me from their booth, confused. If nothing else, this created conversation at points where lulls were inevitable. I was not embarrassed one bit, exhaustion trumped any dignity at this point.

We soon caught sight of the tourist couple. They wore "New York" baseball caps to block out the brutal sun. (And to show their love for 'The Big Apple') They walked purposely in our direction; on the lookout for the best deals. They were a large breed, perhaps Mid-Western. At the very least I am certain they hailed from a place similar to Dutch Country, Pennsylvania. The Asian sales representative of knock off bags quickly approached them. She is seasoned, but moreso pushy and talented at spotting the easily impressed. A new marketing tool is shoved in their faces. It's a tiny, well designed color brochure showing what is available to them. Louis Vutton, Prada, Gucci, all at stunningly low prices. Never mind they are manufactured in sweat shops, and the faux tags generally fall off immediately after you've surrendered your 30 dollars.

The wife nodded at her husband. She made a gesture at the bag hawker which indicated interest. The vendor shot up her pointer finger, asking them to hold on one second. She walked away, but quickly returned to her customers. They followed her, much to our surprise, into a Dodge minivan. The sales rep slid the rear door shut. I panicked for a moment. Are they being kidnapped? For what purpose? Were they going to bring them to a factory in Hong Kong and show them what it means to manufacture these bags they so desire? Guerrilla lesson teaching?

I quickly walked up to the driver's side window, expecting an unsavory character to start the engine and peel off with this naive pair trapped inside. I breathed relief when I saw no such person. As quickly as it began the couple exited the van. The husband clutched his backpack for dear life. He was protecting their investment. The woman barely nodded to them as they sauntered away. She was already on the lookout for her next target.

My phone rang. It was Kat asking for our location. I still had suntan lotion smeared on my hands so Mike had to answer the phone and hold it to my ear. We laughed obnoxiously, maybe even made a small scene amongst the chaos. But we were headed to Coney Island, the ultimate Freak Show. We approached the wrong subway station and turned around, NOW who looks like the tourist?

Thursday, July 31, 2008

Massive confusion with no humor involved

Should I attempt to take classes? Should I wait until I can pay for them? Should I legitimately apply? Is it useless to try? Rhyming unintended. Caffeine is not making me giddy this time around, more like inducing my state of confusion and feeling of inferiority. Mainly would I be doing this to lessen my anxiety rather than working towards a goal I am actually interested in? Why didn't I think of these things two years ago? Brilliant, brilliant, brilliant.

Friday, July 18, 2008

I thought yesterday was Friday

Upon jogging down a local bike path I have seen some notable things the past couple of months. Bunnies the size of my fist grazing in the grass. An Asian man walking backwards, but turning around sheepishly as I pass him. (I was running forward.)An innumerable amount of dog waste left by irresponsible pet owners. And a woman holding her dogs...rather than walking them.

Perhaps my favorite sight thus far has been the Mother and Daughter teams out for their evening "exercise". They walk at the pace of snails in leisure wear, gossiping about family. Sometimes they have dogs with them, sometimes they wear scowls on their faces.

The common thread is that they walk on the left side of the path. We are not in Europe. No matter how much I wish this to be true...it's just not the case. People drive on the right side, why would we walk on the left? There are signs posted to prevent this. They say to "keep to the right, pass on the left." Seems simple enough. I guess they never had my sixth grade teacher, Mrs. Andresen. She stood in the middle of the hallway when changing classes and sang melodically "To the right, To the right, To the right right right"

This aggravated my young mindset, but now I wish to shout it at these flabby women. What if a bike comes barreling at me, and as I am forced to pass them on the right...the bike flattens me? What if one of those police 4 -wheelers issues me a ticket for passing on the right? So many terrible possibilities that will likely never happen. But come on. It's the principle.

Saturday, July 12, 2008

Red-Faced Anger

I accidentally bought a lip pencil rather than an eye pencil. I realized after I had already gotten home. Fuck it, I will bring it back later, I told myself. I certainly won't be lining my lips unless I suddenly find myself to be a Hispanic girl in a 90's R&B video.

Today was that fated day. After hitting every red light on Wolf Road, I turn into Colonie Center Mall, a place that has gotten too big for its britches. A Cheesecake Factory AND a PF Chang's? Has the Westchester Mall followed me all the way upstate? Will I soon have to pay 8 dollars to park?

I make an abrupt stop at a cross walk. A red faced woman in khaki capris is leading a gaggle of middle-aged men, all of whom have some sort of visible injury. I'll later realize she must have caused all those injuries with her bad attitude. It's like a middle America duck crossing, aptly taking place at a mall.

Now she is yelling, and she quickly turns toward me. "I KNOW YOU'RE FROM JERSEY BUT..." *warble warble warble* I don't know what the hell this ill-tempered woman says after this. I scrunch my face in disbelief and give her the middle finger because I am too shocked and confused to yell back. I stopped, I did not hit anyone, what is the issue? Most of her anger seemed to stem from my NJ license plate.

Dave calls her a "dumb bitch". This reminds me of a similar experience in which Mike retaliates with a series of rapid fire "OKs" launched at another needlessly irate woman. It doesn't sound abrasive, but oh did he put that woman in her place.

I am beginning to wonder if middle age is the time that females realize they may have gotten the short end of the stick. Judged by looks and apparel our entire lives, then menopause sets in, so does weight gain and irritability? Or maybe these women hate New Jersey with such a fiery passion they need to unleash it on anyone who shows visible evidence of its existence. Either way, I could fill a book with New Jersey jokes told by people who have been there once, when they were 3 years old.

I feel angry, and then I realize this woman hates everything including herself, and that makes me feel better. I return the pencil to a confused painted face at Sephora. It amazes me that these girls take the contents of the store and proceed to dump them onto their skin. Are they trying to sell this makeup or scare the shit out of the customers?

Either way upstate life is a lesson in....something. Fashion travesties? A need for 30 Applebee's locations? I don't know, but I like the fact that my state of origin keeps people away from me while driving. Or maybe that it invokes such anger from someone simply crossing the street that it's laughable.

Friday, July 11, 2008

Nose is running like a coke fiend's

I am getting into the bad habit of replacing breakfast with coffee. It makes me wired and ready to go for 8 hours of sitting and greeting people with variations of "Good Morning, How are you?"

That business developer was right. I should be writing a novel with all the time I have here. But mostly its squandered on reading other people's writing. Not such a bad thing, the best writers read voraciously. (OK well the online shopping is not doing much to edify myself)

This would be the perfect job for a very lazy human being. Or a retirement-age person with bad knees. I unfortunately find myself eating far too many vending machine snacks. I justify this by running on alternate days after work. No, I don't really need the "BIG BAG" of cookies, or the "LARGE SIZE" Reese's cups. I finally know what it means to eat out of boredom.

My self-esteem suffers when PhD holding scientists assume I am a career receptionist with no degree. Oh well, they are working to cure cancer, can't get too resentful. I tend to get along better with the janitors. I can't stand snobbery and they are so down to earth it's like they are burrowing underground. They know what it's like to work to pay bills, not for some greater cause. This is respectable, I admire them just as much.

I remember in Elementary and Middle School I thought I was going to be a doctor after my time at Harvard. Alternatively I ended up at SUNY Purchase as a journalism major that hates much of the modern media industry. So much for big dreams?

I don't necessarily like "Blogs"

So that's why I started one. If everyone else in the free world is polluting the internet with their banal garbage...why can't I? Seems like a good outlet, maybe I can become famous without really trying. (Does that ever happen?)

Write what you wish and people will read en mass. Better yet, take pictures of your outfits daily and wait for the praise to fill your inbox. Seems reasonable, and not at all vain.

I'm just really amazed that "journalism" and the media in general are praising well editied diaries. Everyone has an opinion and most of the time it's based on what you've learned in life thus far. You may have no wisdom, you may have a ton. You may be an eloquent writer, you may not understand the rules of the English language. It's ok, we can all meet at the internet and publish it for free!