Saturday, July 30, 2005

Embarassing Much? No, Much Too Much.

So, It has come to my attention - through the first, and so far, only comment ever on this blog from what is probably this site's only reader (and my best friend!) - that I need to share a certain story that happened to me when I was home recently with my family. And I completely agree - what is the point of reading a blog if you don't get to laugh at a stranger's drunken debauchery? Well, I would still read it if they wrote about an entertaining sex life, but that's not what my blog is about because then I would be lying to all of my loyal readers, and that just goes against every bit of integrity I have. So, without further ado, I present to you, my loyal reader(s) my most embarassing moment(s):

I went to the lovely wedding of a lovely family friend. She married a Lieutenant in the Air Force and the ceremony, which was in the beautiful, and justifiably famous, Air Force Chapel in Colorado Springs, was all military - with a sabre arch, military uniforms and buzz cuts. The wedding reception was held in a fairly renowned spot in Denver, and FamSquad and I went, wearing black (not because we were going to a funeral, but because it's just not a formal event/celebration if FamSquad isn't wearing all black).

It was an open bar, as it should be at a wedding. (Side note: have you seen Wedding Crashers? You should. Because I peed my pants. Repeatedly). So Dad and I hit up the open bar, as you do. Then we were seated, and, after a few very touching toasts, the waiters came 'round serving a lovely Pino Grigio, as they do. Then, after dinner (and drinks) people started milling around, dancing and drinking - at the still open bar. So I too began drinking, as I do. Keep in mind that this was a bit of an awkward evening filled with people I went to (a small) high school with, but nonetheless haven't seen in years, and didn't talk to even when we did 'attend the academy' together.

Despite the rest of this story, I still believe that I conducted myself fairly well at the wedding (a certain young woman may disagree because I may or may not have been molesting her on the dance floor...). As I was to point out to my younger sister later, "at least I wasn't that obnoxious drunk guy at the wedding."

I felt fine when we left the receptioin, and I felt fine for most of the car ride home (despite living and drinking in New York, and being too cheap for taxis, I am used to walking home after drinking, and walking off most of the excess alcohol without the motion of the car). However, as we were turning into our neighborhood, I began to feel um, not fine.

When I started feeling really 'not fine' I rolled down the window, confident that I wouldn't need it. However, before the window was all the way down, I needed it it to be fully open more than Lindsay Lohan needs a hamburger and shake. But I managed to get my head out the window before spewing the lamb chop dinner, chocolate truffles and too many Pino Grigios all over the (white) car.

Or so I thought.

Mom, sitting in front of me, squealed, "eewww, it got on me."

"No it didn't," I thought confidently to myself. "I puked out the window. Duh."

Then, still wiping the barf off my chin and tie, I turned to my sister (who was laughing hysterically, but with a look of 'shock and appall' on her face) and slurred, "embarassing much? no, much too much."

When we parked the car, I stumbled out and said, "don't worry, I'll just grab the hose" and teetered off toward the side of the house. However, I tripped on the (flat) driveway and, upon regaining the vertical position, turned to my family and announce loudly, "you know what, I'm not even going to try to help, I'll clean it up in the morning" - with the appropriate dismissive, though drunkenly exaggerated, hand gesture.

I went upstairs to continue puking in the toilet. Which is where Mom (who, only a few short years ago, was Captain of the "No Underage Drinking Team") found me and helped me get into bed, with a towel and a plastic trash can, just in case.

A few hours later, after I had used the 'just in case' trash can and stumbled into the bathroom to wretch again, my sister came in to check on me. And found me passed out in the fetal position on the floor, she laughed hysterically before helping me up, getting me some advil ("how many do you want?" "4. no 3. ok 2. 3. 3. 3.") and a glass of water with a straw! Whereupon I passed out again, for the last time that night.

The next morning I woke up around 8am feeling fine, even good. I took a shower and then went downstairs and apologized profusely to my parents. I told them how terribly embarassed I was and they told me how I had managed to get puke all over the inside of the car, and how long it took them to clean up, wearing their suit and dress. We all had a good laugh at my experience (an experience to be kept at college kiddos, not at home). We made plans to go to some friends' lake house in the mountains. And I drank a lot of water.

An hour later I was feeling a bit nauseous again, so I went and laid down. However, a minute later I was up again, running to the bathroom to throw up all of my hard-earned water and bread. The throwing didn't stop until 3 that afternoon. I did not go to the lake house. I did not get to go jet skiing. I did not get to spend the day in the sun and the mountains. I did not go to my favorite brunch place with FamSquad. I did not get to enjoy Mom's renowned burgers. Instead I laid in bed and read the new Harry Potter until 9pm when I (mercifully) fell asleep.

The next morning I was up at 6:30am to repack my bag, shower and prepare for my flight back to New York. I started feeling ill about 10 minutes before we left for the airport. I felt ill on the 4 hour flight, the hour long subway ride, the 20 minute walk to my apartment and all that night and into the next morning when I had work at 5am. Thankfully though, I didn't throw up again - though there was nothing to throw up. Except Terra Blues - the official chip ofJetBlue (who happens to have the absolute nicest staff ever in the history of the service industry).

Moral of the story? Your binge drinking should be done at school, and shared with drunken co-eds. It should not be shared with your family (maybe later as funny, good-old-days reminiscing, but definitely not first hand). However, if you are going to be severely ill at home, at least you know no one will take better care of you than your family.

Tuesday, July 26, 2005

New NY Daily News Demographic: Latin Scholars

It appears there has been a significant shift in the audience of the New York Daily News. The paper, which normally aims its stories and sentence fragments at people reading at the 3rd grade level, have suddenly decided that they have a much, much more high-brow readership and therefore headlined their paper with a latin pun.

How was the rest of the story? No idea. Why not? Because who cares, Bloomie apologizing for NY cops doing their jobs (at the request of apparently paranoid and possibly insane anonymous tippers) is not news. What I would like to know is: who are all these literature majors reading the News?

Thursday, July 21, 2005

NYPD Helps Us Narrow Terrorist Search: All New Yorkers

NYPD has offered us simple commoners some helpful safety tips - or 'talking points' - for how to spot a terrorist on the subway (what about buses? what about outside of the public transportation system? do the tips still apply!?!?!?). Thanks guys. Keep up the good work.

Now, I'm not one to make fun of our friends with the talking brooches, the men in blue, New York's (and everywhere else's hopefully) finest. However, I do enjoy making fun of the suits behind the NYPD, and it is those people, the men behind desks, with designer ties, good benes and large pensions awaiting them that are responsible for this memo. According to NYPD officials, all New Yorkers taking the subway are potential terrorists:

- Someone with clenched fists: me on a bad day getting stuck behind the person that walks slowly and takes up the whole staircase.
- Someone who is nervous, jittery or sweating profusely: any cracked out, anorexic hipster who "has ADD" and for the sweating profusely? EVERY NEW YORKER IN THE LAST MONTH!
- Someone who avoids eye contact, mumbles or chants: again, every New Yorker on the subway - I would be more concerned about the person that made eye contact on purpose than the person avoiding it - and every (crazy) person that has lived here for more than a year.
- Someone with an unusual object protruding from his or her clothing, especially electronic devices, switches or wires: I have seen men in suits heading to Wall Street with enough "electronic devices, switches or wires" coming out of their pinstripes to keep Bond, James Bond entertained for days. PDA. iPod. cellphone. blackberry. cd player. laptop. digital camera. dvd player.
- Someone who repeatedly looks to their left and right, or runs in a suspicious manner: attention, anyone crossing the street is an automatic terrorist! never look both ways kiddos, the NYPD'll getcha. Also, all New Yorkers, when they run, run in a suspicious manner.
- Someone with especially strong cologne or perfume: so that would be the guy in my building with enough patchouli oil to take out a block of asthmatics and all old ladies.

Now, I'm not one for profiling of any sort, but at least when the popo had us running around looking for people with beards and turbans they had limited the population down a bit (albeit inacccurately) - now they have us calling their hotline anytime the person on the subway next to us doesn't smell like b.o., isn't unconscious or has a handless set up for their cell.

Wednesday, July 20, 2005

Peachy Keen

It is officially summer. I know that the miserably hot weather generally implies that summer has been here for ages. But three beautiful things are going on right now, things that define the summer...

The humidity decreased enough so that walking is not a resistance sport. 'nough said.

I ate my first good, summer peach today. Not one of those nasty peaches you get from Food Emporium, or even one you paid too much for at Whole Foods (Peaches From California! - why is anyone excited about peaches being from california? doesn't that just mean that they have fewer calories, more silicon and are more bruised from the cross-country journey?). An actual, honest to god good peach, it was ripe and perfect (not one of those ones that feels ripe, but then, when you bite into it, you realize that it is just bruised and under-ripe, if not completely spoiled). I got it from the Farmer's Market and I love them for it. It's local. It's organic. It tastes like a peach. It's summer in a perfectly fuzzy and juicy package. If you haven't attended your neighborhood Farmer's Market then go. Right now. Leave. Go to the market and buy produce that actually tastes like it should, was grown like it should be and costs as much as it should. In New York, Farmer's Markets are called Greenmarkets. Go. Now.

Also, it is nearing the end of The Tour de France. And Lance Armstrong is winning. Again. Proving his doubters that they are complete and total fools. I actually feel bad for Jan Ullrich, I hope he wins next year (but then he still has to live with the knowledge that he probably wouldn't have won if Lance had not retired, and that stings a bit). If I were in Colorado (which I will be in 24 hours - shout out!) I would be enjoying watching the huge increase of people riding their bikes on Morrison Road, up into the hills, wearing their little biking uniforms and such. But, as an old friend pointed out, If you're not climbing the Alps, you probably shouldn't be wearing a Postal Service Uniform (are people going to go buy Discovery Channel Team uniforms? it's a shame Lance didn't do all 7 with the Postal Service) - let alone a Yellow (or red polka dot) Jersey - because, well, if you're on the team, then you are way, way behind - the race already started. And it's in France. And if you're not on the team: ditch the uniform (and the spandex, chances are you don't look anything like Lance so you should be wearing biking shorts that have shorts over them, not just the spandex. If you haven't been following Le Tour, well then, I'm not sure you're the kind of person I want reading my blog. And if you are the kind of person I want reading my blog, what the hell are you doing not following Le Tour?

Thursday, July 07, 2005

Chocolate Is The New Low-Carb

I'm not one for diets or low-fat, low-carb, low-calorie, no taste, soy, tofu, bunless burgers, sugarless anything. But I eat decently well. Except for my regular bouts of binging - which almost always includes chocolate. So, after realizing that I have eaten 2 packages of raw cookie dough (one of them familiy size) in the last 3 days I have decided that if I can just cut out the chocolate, then I can be one of those healthy-type eaters - and give my runs a little bit more meaning. However, taking chocolate away from me is like telling Little Miss Muffet she can't have her curds and whey. Or Pooh can't eat his honey. No spinach for Popeye. No Slim Jims for the Hulk. No cookies for the Cookie Monster... perhaps not the best example b/c of Sesame Street's destruction of my favorite character: "fruits and vegetables are all the time foods, and cookies are a sometimes food." But even Cookie Monster gets cookies sometimes.

I tried to cut chocolate cold turkey last night. I made it all day. Until just now. When I ate an entire (large) bar of Lindt dark chocolate.

Wednesday, July 06, 2005

Quotes (And Other Things) I've Enjoyed Recently

... because I know that y'all are trying to model your life after mine, here are some thins I've been taking immense pleasure in.

"Be AGGRESSIVE Jesus!" - yelled, by me, at the white, long island minivan with a 'Jesus' bumper sticker in front of me in 4th of July traffic at Jones Beach. (speaking of which, things I enjoyed - the beach, the sand, the pot (really wanted to type it 420 alla my peeps on craigslist tryin' to keep things on the d.l.), the fireworks and the cheesy long islanders)

Cleaning dog throw up off the sidewalk outside the building I work in. AWESOME!

"I'm a sex camel" - Ray Romano (what I find funny about it is also what I find sad about it: the fact that I relate to it. not cool.)

Eating at a different burger place as often as possible (generally accompanied with a vanilla shake). recent hotspots (expect reviews at some point in the (not too) near future) include: Lucky, Shake Shack, Paul's

Telling Cingular to "kill yourself and die" (not the customer service people themselves, they were as nice as possible (which apparently isn't all that nice) but the 'standard operating procedure' itself. p.s. when I come back from Ghana in december I am dropping you like an ugly chick after an O'Doul's power hour.

R. Kelly's song Trapped in the Closet - the first time I heard this I was in the gym (the weight room actually, which is shocking and entertainig in and of itself) and they played this - the whole thing. I had to leave the gym I was laughing so hard, I almost peed my pants. And all the weightroom regulars - with their fake tans, matching work out outfits, spiked hair and waxed eyebrows - just kept lifting like this was a completely normal song - and not a work of comedic genius. (though I think we can all safely substitute the image of a "married woman" with "prepubescent girl" and "husband" with "the po-po" (or "her father") and have a pretty good idea what R.Kelly was really getting at.

The website Feed Lindsay - I am seriously considering buying the 'iEat' tshirt. because it will continue being applicable to me long after lindsay goes back to inhaling something besides white powder - or wastes completely away so that we don't have to hear about her, or be disgusted by her recent 'after' pictures for anorexics in training. Though I don't want this to end up being as irritating as those 'free winona' tshirts but I am pretty sure it will end up being that irritating. If not more so.

Speaking of eating: Nestle cookie dough. This is far superior to Pillsbury, Tollhouse and generic brands. It cannot be gotten at CTown - though Associated does have it. Well done.

I may come back and provide links, but i wouldn't count on it anytime soon. i'm not particularly motivated.

Saturday, July 02, 2005

This Holiday Weekend Everyone Should 'Rize'

I have work tomorrow. At 7. AM. And again on Monday. At 7. AM. And again on Tuesday. At 7. AM. (And while I love to play the martyr, I'd like to give a shout out to holiday pay - time and a half!).

So I'm heading to bed, but just quickly:

Everyone should go see the movie Rize, directed by David Lachapelle and just fucking awesome. And after you see it you should know that I tried it out when I got home and no, I don't have 'it.' Yet. But now I have a goal, and with practice... one day....

Friday, July 01, 2005

Thanks Mr. John Unisex Haircuts

I love the new-haircut-feeling. Especially on the back of the neck, where the hair is extra-fine and extra-short and it is lovely to play with - rubbing your hand back and forth in small motions (that sounds too much like an untentional entendre) against the grain, with the grain - if hair has grain, that is. Which it doesn't. Does it? It grows in a direction, right? Is that grain?

But anyway, you should know the feeling, either from your own head or someone else's. And don't you love it? Don't you wish you could always have that 'new-haircut-feeling'?

Well, I just got a buzz and it is fantastic. I rediscovered it a few summers ago for an OutwardBound after having abandoned it along with swim team around the age of 12 (good timing I think). It's like having that back-of-the-neck-feeling all over your head. Which means that I've been wandering the city rubbing my entire head for the last couple of days. No more walking with hands in pockets, or swinging my arms freely. My hands are all over my head much like people do when they're thinking hard about something - only I'm not thinking hard about anything at the stop light, except maybe how great my head feels.

The cut also keeps me much, much cooler than anything else and helps the sweat evaporate faster. When there's a breeze I can feel it all over my scalp which is excellent because it feels like all the little hairs are standing on end in the wind, which, I guess they are because they're too short to really do anything else. And this cooling effect allows me to pity the hipsters who continue to maintain their shaggy hair throughout the summer. I admit I get a little shaggy during the winter when it is too cold to be going around with nothing but peach fuzz on your melon. But the guys that keep their long hair during the summer, I feel bad for them. I almost feel like starting a charity. We would have outreach and education, free clinics where they could learn the pros of buzzes and get one if they so-chose.

Also, the buzz cut is superbly low-maintenance. And by low-maintenance, I mean no maintenance. I look just as good when I wake up as I do when I'm ready to go out for the night. And by good, I mean...

Now we come to the only drawback of the buzz. I look like a new military recruit. Or a skinhead. Neither of which are the groups I turn to for style-tips (actually, I don't really turn to anyone for style tips, because style tips are expensive and time-consuming and generally don't include 'be comfortable'). It's not so much that I care what people think of me, or my haircut, I just don't want them to think that I am in the army. Or that I hate black people.