For some people, working out is an escape.
For me - I try to escape working out.
Others love it to the point of obsession. Hello crazy muscle man who's always hanging out in front of the mirror near the free weights!
I'm obsessed with avoiding the free weights.
Working out for me is like a job, except I don't get paid for it. I would love to see results, i.e. weight loss and a more toned body, but that requires patience and perseverance. Patience is not my strong suit, nor is perseverance because I get bored too easily. Herein lies the problem.
I fell in love with yoga since moving to New York and trying it for the first time. Though it's a great workout, cardio is the key to weight loss and my looking good in my wedding dress in June.
But it's so hard to do cardio when I'm so run down from work and have such a weird work schedule. I go into work anywhere from 4:30 a.m. (yes, there IS a 4:30 A.M. and people go to work at that time, apparently) to 6 p.m. and work anywhere from four to eight hours a day four to seven days a week. Since my work schedule is all over the place, it's hard to plan a workout schedule and even harder to stick with it.
But with my fiance's prodding - he feels "off" when he doesn't work out, and apparently assumes that I should feel the same - I've been sticking to a semi-regular workout schedule. (It helps that I have a mental picture of myself in my wedding dress to motivate me!) Yay me!
Besides, it's much easier to work out if I actually enjoy it. Along with yoga, another workout that I tried for the first time recently and L-O-V-E-D was rebounding. It's a workout done almost entirely on mini trampolines, and bouncing around is a great cardio workout! But I think a big reason why I like it so much is because of the instructor. Blake could not have more energy and the music he plays is bumpin' and is as loud as it would be in a club, so it's easier to keep the energy up for a great, full-body workout.
And since today was Club H Spa Day, my energy was even higher while bounding on my mini-tramp because I knew that afterward, I would be getting a massage or facial! And it was FREE! SCORE!!!
Give me an opportunity like that every time I work out and I'll get my butt to the gym seven days a week!
Though I was jonesin' for a massage, the next person available was the facial lady, so I settled on a nice, 15-minute, yummy-smelling facial.
Then I went home and asked the fiance for a massage.
I know how to work it!
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Monday, February 25, 2008
Soon-to-be the boss
I started training today to be a supervisor at the coffee shop where I work - which is what I was hired for a few weeks ago. Since I was hired, I've been working to master the basics and am now finally ready to work to be the boss.
But it's so much harder than I anticipated.
The first step is spending four hours a day for two weeks reading a binder the size of a standard textbook, answering questions, and completing activities. Not only do I have to do that, but I also have to REMEMBER what I read. It's not like back in school where you read a chapter and are tested on a select few of the more important things that you read. Unfortunately, I have to remember it all. Sigh.
Besides all that, the store where I work is so busy, there is so much to remember, and there's almost too much to pay attention to at one time. It's so much more stressful than I thought it would be when I signed up for what I thought would be a nice, brainless job while I got settled into the city.
Plus, the hardest part is that I was hired a few weeks ago to supervise employees who have been with the company for weeks, months, or even years. They're well aware of how the store operates and most of them know their responsibilities.
I'm still new. How am I supposed to feel comfortable telling people what to do and when to do it in the same breath that I'm asking them what needs to be done and when it should be accomplished?
It's just a little weird. And a little too stressful.
But it's so much harder than I anticipated.
The first step is spending four hours a day for two weeks reading a binder the size of a standard textbook, answering questions, and completing activities. Not only do I have to do that, but I also have to REMEMBER what I read. It's not like back in school where you read a chapter and are tested on a select few of the more important things that you read. Unfortunately, I have to remember it all. Sigh.
Besides all that, the store where I work is so busy, there is so much to remember, and there's almost too much to pay attention to at one time. It's so much more stressful than I thought it would be when I signed up for what I thought would be a nice, brainless job while I got settled into the city.
Plus, the hardest part is that I was hired a few weeks ago to supervise employees who have been with the company for weeks, months, or even years. They're well aware of how the store operates and most of them know their responsibilities.
I'm still new. How am I supposed to feel comfortable telling people what to do and when to do it in the same breath that I'm asking them what needs to be done and when it should be accomplished?
It's just a little weird. And a little too stressful.
Oh baby, baby!
One thing I love most about New York City is that it's a destination city. No one ever says, "Next time I'm in Toledo, I'll give you a call." But people come to New York to visit all of the time.
Ca
se in point - I finally got to hold one of my good friends' new baby the other day because they - Ignazio and Susan - were in town visiting family. And that was not the only "first" of the day. I also met my friend Ignazio's parents, visited Queens for the first time, and bravely ate some 
seafood (unless you count tuna, I don't do seafood).
se in point - I finally got to hold one of my good friends' new baby the other day because they - Ignazio and Susan - were in town visiting family. And that was not the only "first" of the day. I also met my friend Ignazio's parents, visited Queens for the first time, and bravely ate some 
seafood (unless you count tuna, I don't do seafood).Starting with my favorite - the baby, of course - Maria Sophia is a total wiggle worm. Even at 24 days old, all four of her limbs are constantly moving whenever she's got those big, wide eyes open, and her tiny socks can never stay on those tiny feet. Adorable!
Queens, however, is a different story. The further you get into the burrough, the more graffiti you see on the sides of building. And I'm not just talking a bit of paint here and there. I could hardly see the original color of some buildings behind all the graffiti. But since I consider some graffiti an art form, some of it was really beautiful.
After switching trains once in Manhattan, I took another train about 20 minutes into Queens and got off well after it had traveled from underground to above the streets. Other than the trains roaring overhead, the neighborhood in Queens looked like any other small downtown area with an H & R Block, a Dunkin' Donuts, and a Subway sandwich shop, among other stores.
After a few minutes of hanging out in the Dunkin' Donuts, Ignazio and his brother, Paul, pulled up and drove me to their parents' house for a seafood lunch. And when I say seafood, I'm talking S-E-A-F-O-O-D. Ignazio's family prepared a seven-course seafood lunch, which included crab and lobster bisque, an octopus and celery dish, eel, and oysters. I bravely tried the bisque - which I found surprisingly good - and the octopus, which I'm sure was fine, but it was too weird and rubbery for me to eat again. I couldn't bring myself to actually try the eel. One weird food is enough for me for one day!
But overall, it was great to just hang out in good company and enjoy a lazy Sunday afternoon with people I miss from Toledo. (Hint, hint! Other people I miss from Toledo are always welcome to this fab city!)
Saturday, February 23, 2008
May he rest in peace
I'm upset. And when I'm upset - I mean really upset - I make a beeline toward the end of the couch that's nearest the corner with my mini, green journal. After resting it on my thighs, which I've pulled up to eye-level by putting my feet on the couch, words bleed out of whatever pen or marker that I grab onto its pages.
Since it's full of my private, sometimes contradictory and chaotic thoughts, no one reads that journal. It's to help me work out whatever issue or problem I'm having at the moment or just an outlet for me to take out my frustrations.
I found a dead person today.
Under these circumstances, normally I'd be headed for the couch to write. Anyone who knows me well knows that I get as skittish as a young colt around death. I suffer from what I characterize as small panic attacks when I have to be around it, like when I'm at funerals.
You'd think that three years as a reporter - when it was my job to write about death at times - would have given me the tools to be more comfortable around it. Even though I've seen more death as a reporter, and have had to deal with it in my own way, I have never really gotten over that day in March, 2005, when I attended the funeral of a 5-year-old boy who had been hit by a car that failed to stop for a school bus. There was also the story of the 11-year-old who had been hit by a train, the 7-year-old and his father who drowned in Lake Erie, and the twin 4-year-old girls whose drugged-out father drove into the path of a semi. (For some reason, the big stories about death in my coverage area usually involved children.)
I thought I had left that all behind when I moved to New York. But death happens anywhere. Even in the lobby of a coffee shop.
I'm writing about the experience here, and not in my green journal, because this really isn't a private matter. A man died in the middle of the hustle and bustle of people grabbing their morning coffees and heading off to work.
And the worst part? No one noticed. FOR TWO HOURS.
It wasn't until I was sent to clean up the lobby area that I started talking to a customer and she pointed the guy out and asked that I make sure he was OK. In New York, it's not unusual for the homeless to quietly step into coffee shops to warm up and even nod off. They're usually really nice and sometimes, they use some of the coins they were given from passersby for a small cup of coffee. As long as they're not bothering anyone, I won't kick them out for not buying anything.
Today, however, this guy made me really uncomfortable. He was a black man who looked like he might be in his mid-50s. But it was hard to tell because he was sitting on a chair, his feet were on the floor, and his body was bent over so his head rested between his knees like he was feeling faint and needed to take a breather.
Since the assistant manager woke him up earlier in the day to tell him not to sleep in the store, we obviously assumed he again had fallen asleep, even though he recently bought a cup of coffee.
But as I was eyeing him while wiping off the tables, it seemed eerie that he remained so still, even though people were constantly jostling past him to get milk and sugar for their coffees on the side of the store that has just a few seats available for customers.
So I scooted up a bit closer to him to really get a good look at him in his dark blue jeans, over-sized navy blue jacket, and well-worn black backpack and failed to see the tiny movement a body makes as its lungs expand with air.
On the way to talk to the assistant manager, I started feeling unnaturally hot in my black turtleneck. Since the guy ignored the assistant manager's earlier order not to sleep in the store, the assistant manager went out to the lobby intending on waking him up and asking him to leave.
Though he banged his open palm on the table several times while shouting the word "sir," the guy didn't respond. Police were called, then they called EMS before he was pronounced dead. Just like that.
I was seriously feeling queasy by that point, so I asked if I could run an errand or something so I wouldn't have to see them take the body away and was, thankfully, sent to the bank to get some change.
The ambulance was just pulling away when I got back and all that was left was to give my information for a report. Then I was supposed to return to work like nothing ever happened.
The next time I looked over in that area, a beautiful, healthy college student wearing blue jeans and black personality glasses was sitting right where the guy's life left him. She was laughing as she swung her blonde hair from one side to the other as she attempted to help her friend with their economics assignment.
There it was. Life and death right there in front of me in black and white.
She's doing great.
May he rest in peace.
Since it's full of my private, sometimes contradictory and chaotic thoughts, no one reads that journal. It's to help me work out whatever issue or problem I'm having at the moment or just an outlet for me to take out my frustrations.
I found a dead person today.
Under these circumstances, normally I'd be headed for the couch to write. Anyone who knows me well knows that I get as skittish as a young colt around death. I suffer from what I characterize as small panic attacks when I have to be around it, like when I'm at funerals.
You'd think that three years as a reporter - when it was my job to write about death at times - would have given me the tools to be more comfortable around it. Even though I've seen more death as a reporter, and have had to deal with it in my own way, I have never really gotten over that day in March, 2005, when I attended the funeral of a 5-year-old boy who had been hit by a car that failed to stop for a school bus. There was also the story of the 11-year-old who had been hit by a train, the 7-year-old and his father who drowned in Lake Erie, and the twin 4-year-old girls whose drugged-out father drove into the path of a semi. (For some reason, the big stories about death in my coverage area usually involved children.)
I thought I had left that all behind when I moved to New York. But death happens anywhere. Even in the lobby of a coffee shop.
I'm writing about the experience here, and not in my green journal, because this really isn't a private matter. A man died in the middle of the hustle and bustle of people grabbing their morning coffees and heading off to work.
And the worst part? No one noticed. FOR TWO HOURS.
It wasn't until I was sent to clean up the lobby area that I started talking to a customer and she pointed the guy out and asked that I make sure he was OK. In New York, it's not unusual for the homeless to quietly step into coffee shops to warm up and even nod off. They're usually really nice and sometimes, they use some of the coins they were given from passersby for a small cup of coffee. As long as they're not bothering anyone, I won't kick them out for not buying anything.
Today, however, this guy made me really uncomfortable. He was a black man who looked like he might be in his mid-50s. But it was hard to tell because he was sitting on a chair, his feet were on the floor, and his body was bent over so his head rested between his knees like he was feeling faint and needed to take a breather.
Since the assistant manager woke him up earlier in the day to tell him not to sleep in the store, we obviously assumed he again had fallen asleep, even though he recently bought a cup of coffee.
But as I was eyeing him while wiping off the tables, it seemed eerie that he remained so still, even though people were constantly jostling past him to get milk and sugar for their coffees on the side of the store that has just a few seats available for customers.
So I scooted up a bit closer to him to really get a good look at him in his dark blue jeans, over-sized navy blue jacket, and well-worn black backpack and failed to see the tiny movement a body makes as its lungs expand with air.
On the way to talk to the assistant manager, I started feeling unnaturally hot in my black turtleneck. Since the guy ignored the assistant manager's earlier order not to sleep in the store, the assistant manager went out to the lobby intending on waking him up and asking him to leave.
Though he banged his open palm on the table several times while shouting the word "sir," the guy didn't respond. Police were called, then they called EMS before he was pronounced dead. Just like that.
I was seriously feeling queasy by that point, so I asked if I could run an errand or something so I wouldn't have to see them take the body away and was, thankfully, sent to the bank to get some change.
The ambulance was just pulling away when I got back and all that was left was to give my information for a report. Then I was supposed to return to work like nothing ever happened.
The next time I looked over in that area, a beautiful, healthy college student wearing blue jeans and black personality glasses was sitting right where the guy's life left him. She was laughing as she swung her blonde hair from one side to the other as she attempted to help her friend with their economics assignment.
There it was. Life and death right there in front of me in black and white.
She's doing great.
May he rest in peace.
Monday, February 18, 2008
I'm $10 richer, but the coffee shop is way more than $10 poorer
I've only gotten up at 4:15 a.m. to go to work at my coffee shop job a handful of times, but no matter how much I'm getting used to it, it still royally sucks. It's even more horrible now that it's wintertime and all I can think about is how good it would feel to crawl back into my warm bed and snuggle under the covers with my fiance.
But because I'm responsible and because I need money in this super-expensive city, I grudgingly rolled out of bed at 4:15 a.m. to eat breakfast and look halfway decent before heading off to work - two minutes before I'm supposed to clock in. Because my commute is an average of four minutes, I'm usually right around two minutes late every day.
But when I'm heading to work at 4:43 a.m., I'm still halfway asleep because I haven't yet downed a few shots of espresso. That didn't stop my eyes from grabbing something unusual on the sidewalk on this particular morning, though (which is saying something because I've seen all sorts of random garbage blowing along the streets of NYC). It was folded up three times, but I still recognized it - cold hard cash. And no one around but me.
SCORE!!!
At first I thought there were two zeros behind the 1, but that excitement quickly dissipated when I saw Alexander Hamilton on the front of the bill instead of Benjamin Franklin. But still - it was $10!!! And it was mine (Hey - finders keepers, man)!!!
That's when I knew that it was going to be a good day.
The good day continued when I got to work and the water pressure in our store decided to quit - right in the middle of the morning rush. This is good because no water pressure equals no espresso shots (which is in probably about 90 percent of the drinks), no tea, and no coffee that isn't hadn't already been brewed, so it meant that I had to actually do very little.
The only thing I got to do - which was priceless in several situations - was listen to the customers order and either do what I could for them or watch the shock register on their faces when I told them that no, they could not have "their" drink. I actually saw some of them contemplating suicide when they realized they would not be getting their morning coffee.
For example, one woman came in and ordered a drink that required espresso. I told her that we could not make that particular drink, explained why, and watched her face go from gleeful as she was ordering to horrified when I offered her some regular, brewed coffee. Like that was even an option.
"Nooooooo!!! All I really wanted this morning was [said drink]," she whined as if her entire day was going to be thrown off because of me (which it probably was. People are INSANE when it comes to their rituals.)
This became more apparent as the minutes went on. Every time a new batch of customers came through the door, I announced the situation so everyone could hear it and they could either choose to stay in line for what we did have to offer, which does include morning pasteries, or walk out and find another place that sells coffee. Which is on every corner in New York City. But whatever.
Most people were understanding, though a bit miffed. But one lady, who waited in line for about 23 seconds, totally blew up when she asked if she could have a particular drink, and I told her no.
"Well, why didn't you post a sign on the door saying that? I never would have waited if I had known that," she huffed while throwing her money back into her cheap, designer knockoff and storming out.
What would the sign have said? I wondered. "Don't bother coming inside between the minutes of 6:11 a.m. and 6:32 a.m. today because we will not be able to make certain drinks, but you'll never know which ones unless you come in and ask"?
Besides, as one of my colleagues astutely pointed out, people don't read signs, so Ms. Bitchiness' suggestion would have been futile. And the inconvenience lasted about 20 minutes - which was enough time for the coffee that we had brewed that morning disappear as if it were the last vaccine on Earth for a deadly disease. By that point, we were also getting dangerously low on the last warm beverage we had to offer - decaf coffee, which some people accepted when they realized that the only alternative was to not have any coffee at all.
I have always been fascinated by psychology, and because I really had nothing more to do than ruin people's day, I simply observed the morning trainwreck as a psychologist would watch an experiment into the human psyche. And it's f'd up, man. But it's also unbelieveably fascinating.
But because I'm responsible and because I need money in this super-expensive city, I grudgingly rolled out of bed at 4:15 a.m. to eat breakfast and look halfway decent before heading off to work - two minutes before I'm supposed to clock in. Because my commute is an average of four minutes, I'm usually right around two minutes late every day.
But when I'm heading to work at 4:43 a.m., I'm still halfway asleep because I haven't yet downed a few shots of espresso. That didn't stop my eyes from grabbing something unusual on the sidewalk on this particular morning, though (which is saying something because I've seen all sorts of random garbage blowing along the streets of NYC). It was folded up three times, but I still recognized it - cold hard cash. And no one around but me.
SCORE!!!
At first I thought there were two zeros behind the 1, but that excitement quickly dissipated when I saw Alexander Hamilton on the front of the bill instead of Benjamin Franklin. But still - it was $10!!! And it was mine (Hey - finders keepers, man)!!!
That's when I knew that it was going to be a good day.
The good day continued when I got to work and the water pressure in our store decided to quit - right in the middle of the morning rush. This is good because no water pressure equals no espresso shots (which is in probably about 90 percent of the drinks), no tea, and no coffee that isn't hadn't already been brewed, so it meant that I had to actually do very little.
The only thing I got to do - which was priceless in several situations - was listen to the customers order and either do what I could for them or watch the shock register on their faces when I told them that no, they could not have "their" drink. I actually saw some of them contemplating suicide when they realized they would not be getting their morning coffee.
For example, one woman came in and ordered a drink that required espresso. I told her that we could not make that particular drink, explained why, and watched her face go from gleeful as she was ordering to horrified when I offered her some regular, brewed coffee. Like that was even an option.
"Nooooooo!!! All I really wanted this morning was [said drink]," she whined as if her entire day was going to be thrown off because of me (which it probably was. People are INSANE when it comes to their rituals.)
This became more apparent as the minutes went on. Every time a new batch of customers came through the door, I announced the situation so everyone could hear it and they could either choose to stay in line for what we did have to offer, which does include morning pasteries, or walk out and find another place that sells coffee. Which is on every corner in New York City. But whatever.
Most people were understanding, though a bit miffed. But one lady, who waited in line for about 23 seconds, totally blew up when she asked if she could have a particular drink, and I told her no.
"Well, why didn't you post a sign on the door saying that? I never would have waited if I had known that," she huffed while throwing her money back into her cheap, designer knockoff and storming out.
What would the sign have said? I wondered. "Don't bother coming inside between the minutes of 6:11 a.m. and 6:32 a.m. today because we will not be able to make certain drinks, but you'll never know which ones unless you come in and ask"?
Besides, as one of my colleagues astutely pointed out, people don't read signs, so Ms. Bitchiness' suggestion would have been futile. And the inconvenience lasted about 20 minutes - which was enough time for the coffee that we had brewed that morning disappear as if it were the last vaccine on Earth for a deadly disease. By that point, we were also getting dangerously low on the last warm beverage we had to offer - decaf coffee, which some people accepted when they realized that the only alternative was to not have any coffee at all.
I have always been fascinated by psychology, and because I really had nothing more to do than ruin people's day, I simply observed the morning trainwreck as a psychologist would watch an experiment into the human psyche. And it's f'd up, man. But it's also unbelieveably fascinating.
Friday, February 15, 2008
Great minds think alike
When Brent and I went on our very first vacation together - a cruise around the Florida keys - the most romantic moment was when we were on the top level of the cruise ship that was sailing at night in the warm summer breeze eating chocolate-covered strawberries.
Since then, chocolate-covered strawberries have always been a romantic staple in our relationship.
So I decided to make the delicious dessert to surprise Brent when he came home from work on Valentine's Day.
I luckily got the last bunch of strawberries at the supermarket (score!) and went to work melting dark chocolate in the microwave before rolling the berries in the chocolate and placing them on a plate to harden in the fridge.
Unfortunately, I forgot to put down wax paper, so most of the chocolate ended up sticking to the plate... Sigh.
But when Brent came home, I was sure to be at the door eating one of the desserts so he could see what was in store for our Valentine's Day together. He just smiled at me, shook his head, and held out a big gold package that said "Godiva" on the side.
Great minds think alike!
Not surprisingly, inside the package were 12 chocolate-covered strawberries that made my strawberries look just sad. I posted pictures of both - you be the judge!
But I made mine mysef and they tasted just as good as the professionally done ones... almost.
Happy Valentine's Day!!
Since then, chocolate-covered strawberries have always been a romantic staple in our relationship.
So I decided to make the delicious dessert to surprise Brent when he came home from work on Valentine's Day.
I luckily got the last bunch of strawberries at the supermarket (score!) and went to work melting dark chocolate in the microwave before rolling the berries in the chocolate and placing them on a plate to harden in the fridge.
Unfortunately, I forgot to put down wax paper, so most of the chocolate ended up sticking to the plate... Sigh.
But when Brent came home, I was sure to be at the door eating one of the desserts so he could see what was in store for our Valentine's Day together. He just smiled at me, shook his head, and held out a big gold package that said "Godiva" on the side.
Great minds think alike!
Not surprisingly, inside the package were 12 chocolate-covered strawberries that made my strawberries look just sad. I posted pictures of both - you be the judge!
But I made mine mysef and they tasted just as good as the professionally done ones... almost.
Happy Valentine's Day!!
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
I know who is the next American Idol
OK, so
even though I am the (self-proclaimed) Miss American Idol Extraordinare, I don't really know who's going to be the next American Idol, but I can totally make a really good guess.
I am predicting that, even though we have just learned who made it into the top 24, that 20-year-old Syesha Mercado - the one who lost her voice during Hollywood week - will be the next American Idol. She is P-H-E-N-O-M-I-N-A-L and is, in my opinion, the one to beat.
American also narrowly missed another Sanjaya phenominon. Simon said he wholeheartedly wanted to put Kyle Ensley in the top 24 because he had "something different to offer." So did Sanjaya, and look what happened t
here. Kyle seemed like a great guy - funny and down-to-earth, though a bit dorky. However, what Simon meant by "something different" was "something to annoy people and get ratings."
While I agree that Kyle had a pretty good voice, there are other aspects that one has to consider when putting together a group of singers to throw to the dogs (aka "Americans who watch the show").
Unfortunately, in the pop culture industry, there is an image that Kyle, the politician, just doesn't fit into. I seriously can't imagine his being successful in the singing industry.
But he does seem like a sweet and stand-up guy. Here's good wishes for his future in politics!
(Photos are courtesy of Fox.)
even though I am the (self-proclaimed) Miss American Idol Extraordinare, I don't really know who's going to be the next American Idol, but I can totally make a really good guess.I am predicting that, even though we have just learned who made it into the top 24, that 20-year-old Syesha Mercado - the one who lost her voice during Hollywood week - will be the next American Idol. She is P-H-E-N-O-M-I-N-A-L and is, in my opinion, the one to beat.
American also narrowly missed another Sanjaya phenominon. Simon said he wholeheartedly wanted to put Kyle Ensley in the top 24 because he had "something different to offer." So did Sanjaya, and look what happened t
here. Kyle seemed like a great guy - funny and down-to-earth, though a bit dorky. However, what Simon meant by "something different" was "something to annoy people and get ratings."While I agree that Kyle had a pretty good voice, there are other aspects that one has to consider when putting together a group of singers to throw to the dogs (aka "Americans who watch the show").
Unfortunately, in the pop culture industry, there is an image that Kyle, the politician, just doesn't fit into. I seriously can't imagine his being successful in the singing industry.
But he does seem like a sweet and stand-up guy. Here's good wishes for his future in politics!
(Photos are courtesy of Fox.)
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
There's a time and a place for that, dude - leave it in your pants
There's a time and a place for everything.
When there's a line several people deep for the only public restroom in a coffee shop, you shouldn't be in there smoking a cigarette. Or five cigarettes, for all the time you spent in there.
I get it - it's snowing outside (for only the second time since I moved here on Dec. 5- sweet!) and it's cold, so you don't want to inconvenience yourself by going outside to smoke. So you'll politely inconvenience paying customers who just want to pee.
That's bad enough.
What's inexcusable is leaving semen all over the sink and floor of a public restroom - one that I'm partially responsible for cleaning.
I wish I was making that up, but yes, someone (possibly the smoker. We're not sure.) did masterbate all over the sink and floor of the restroom at the coffee shop that I work at. And I did throw up in my mouth a little bit and I wasn't even the one who had to clean it up. That's just sick.
Thank God for coworkers with stomaches of steel who volunteer for the job.
Besides, they couldn't pay me enough to clean that up. I told my boss flat out that if he would have asked me to do it, I would have flat out told him no.
God I need a real job.
When there's a line several people deep for the only public restroom in a coffee shop, you shouldn't be in there smoking a cigarette. Or five cigarettes, for all the time you spent in there.
I get it - it's snowing outside (for only the second time since I moved here on Dec. 5- sweet!) and it's cold, so you don't want to inconvenience yourself by going outside to smoke. So you'll politely inconvenience paying customers who just want to pee.
That's bad enough.
What's inexcusable is leaving semen all over the sink and floor of a public restroom - one that I'm partially responsible for cleaning.
I wish I was making that up, but yes, someone (possibly the smoker. We're not sure.) did masterbate all over the sink and floor of the restroom at the coffee shop that I work at. And I did throw up in my mouth a little bit and I wasn't even the one who had to clean it up. That's just sick.
Thank God for coworkers with stomaches of steel who volunteer for the job.
Besides, they couldn't pay me enough to clean that up. I told my boss flat out that if he would have asked me to do it, I would have flat out told him no.
God I need a real job.
Monday, February 11, 2008
Been wearing an engagement ring for a year now
A year ago today, I was in Las Vegas looking at Brent, my then-boyfriend, who was down on his knee asking me to marry him.
And just as I was about to fall asleep, Brent whispered in my ear that he didn't believe it could happen, but that he loves me more today than he did a year ago.
AWWWWWW!!!
Those of you who don't know the story of how he proposed, I've cut and pasted the story, which is posted on our wedding Web site: www.mywedding.com/brentanderika.
HOW HE PROPOSED:
It was February, 2007, and Brent and I were definitely overdue for a vacation. So we both took a week off and jetted to the city of lights - Las Vegas!
After checking into the Excalibur Hotel on the Las Vegas strip on Feb. 9, we settled in to enjoy a fun-filled long weekend. After wandering around for a bit, we ended up at the Mirage Hotel to see Cirque du Soleil's "Love" which featured music from the Beatles. Great music and great performances equaled the most amazing show that I had ever seen. Brent said afterward that he will never see another cirque show. His loss!
So the next day was his turn to pick our evening activity. We ended up eating dinner at ESPN Zone to watch sports on something like 18 different TVs - heaven for him and tolerable, at best, for me.
But they say opposites attract, which brings me to Feb. 11, 2007. We decided together to head to PF Chang's chinese restaurant for dinner. Since there was a long wait, I decided to try my luck at the nearby big wheel. But since Brent was "helping" me by telling me where to place my chips using logic, I ended up losing $40. Before he wandered over to see how I was doing, I was winning using gut feelings. This is why Brent never gambles.
But after a romantic dinner, Brent suggested that we walk over to the faux Eiffle Tower atop the Paris Hotel because he knows how much I love lights. So we got tickets and rode up the elevator to the top of the tower.
I immediately started snapping photos from every angle while we were in the caged-in platform while Brent waited patiently for me to pay attention to him already!
But after he was sure I was done, he turned to me and took both my hands in his and started telling me about all the major events that had happened in his life over the past several years, and how I was with him through it all.
Then he got down on one knee and asked me to marry him.
The tears immediatley started flowing because I was so excited - so excited, in fact, that it took me a minute to notice that he was still on one knee because I hadn't answered him!
But of course, I said yes! And then he told me that I had made all of his dreams come true, and he wanted to make all mine come true starting with the wedding of my dreams. Then he said that he knew that we weren't standing on top of the real Eiffle Tower, so he promised to take me to the real one in Paris on our honeymoon!
So we kissed and hugged, and then, as if on cue, the Fountains of Bellagio lit up and started dancing to Frank Sinatra's "Luck be a Lady."
I may not have had the best of luck on the big wheel that night, but at that moment, I felt like the luckiest girl on the planet. I love you, baby
And just as I was about to fall asleep, Brent whispered in my ear that he didn't believe it could happen, but that he loves me more today than he did a year ago.
AWWWWWW!!!
Those of you who don't know the story of how he proposed, I've cut and pasted the story, which is posted on our wedding Web site: www.mywedding.com/brentanderika.
HOW HE PROPOSED:
It was February, 2007, and Brent and I were definitely overdue for a vacation. So we both took a week off and jetted to the city of lights - Las Vegas!
After checking into the Excalibur Hotel on the Las Vegas strip on Feb. 9, we settled in to enjoy a fun-filled long weekend. After wandering around for a bit, we ended up at the Mirage Hotel to see Cirque du Soleil's "Love" which featured music from the Beatles. Great music and great performances equaled the most amazing show that I had ever seen. Brent said afterward that he will never see another cirque show. His loss!
So the next day was his turn to pick our evening activity. We ended up eating dinner at ESPN Zone to watch sports on something like 18 different TVs - heaven for him and tolerable, at best, for me.
But they say opposites attract, which brings me to Feb. 11, 2007. We decided together to head to PF Chang's chinese restaurant for dinner. Since there was a long wait, I decided to try my luck at the nearby big wheel. But since Brent was "helping" me by telling me where to place my chips using logic, I ended up losing $40. Before he wandered over to see how I was doing, I was winning using gut feelings. This is why Brent never gambles.
But after a romantic dinner, Brent suggested that we walk over to the faux Eiffle Tower atop the Paris Hotel because he knows how much I love lights. So we got tickets and rode up the elevator to the top of the tower.
I immediately started snapping photos from every angle while we were in the caged-in platform while Brent waited patiently for me to pay attention to him already!
But after he was sure I was done, he turned to me and took both my hands in his and started telling me about all the major events that had happened in his life over the past several years, and how I was with him through it all.
Then he got down on one knee and asked me to marry him.
The tears immediatley started flowing because I was so excited - so excited, in fact, that it took me a minute to notice that he was still on one knee because I hadn't answered him!
But of course, I said yes! And then he told me that I had made all of his dreams come true, and he wanted to make all mine come true starting with the wedding of my dreams. Then he said that he knew that we weren't standing on top of the real Eiffle Tower, so he promised to take me to the real one in Paris on our honeymoon!
So we kissed and hugged, and then, as if on cue, the Fountains of Bellagio lit up and started dancing to Frank Sinatra's "Luck be a Lady."
I may not have had the best of luck on the big wheel that night, but at that moment, I felt like the luckiest girl on the planet. I love you, baby
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Board games are way more fun when you're drunk
One of Brent'sbuddies from his MBA program, Rob, was in town with his wife, Becky, visiting her parents this weekend, so they asked if we were free to catch up at some point.
Since it was Brent's turn to plan a date for the two of us on Saturday, he of course said we were free to hang out with them - on Saturday. (Not to worry. Next week is not only Valentine's Day, but is also the one-year anniversary of the day he asked me to marry him. Oh come on - if you're married or engaged, you remember the date that your significant other asked you to marry him!)
We started the night off at our apartment so they could see what a couple grand a month can get you in terms of housing in New York City, then started walking downtown on 9th Avenue until we found a nice Italian restaurant, Roberto Passon, that looked good on the corner of 9th and 50th streets.
And it was. The four of us split a bottle of red wine and Rob and I both ordered the pumpkin ravioli with sage, asparagus, and parmesan cheese. It had a bit of a sweet flavor to it and was AMAZING - like most all food in this city!
Afterward, I was having a Pinkberry craving while all the guys could think about was how quickly we could get to the nearby bar that has 25 beers from all over the world... ON TAP. Doesn't take much to please a guy.
Since Becky had never been to Pinkberry, we split up from the guys and enjoyed some time together talking about how ridiculous New York fashion can be. After getting to Pinkberry, she boldly ordered her frozen dessert with strawberries, raspberries, and chocolate chips (very unique!) while I stuck to my marshmellows, kiwi, and fruity pebbles.
And kudos to Becky for finding the warm tea in the corner of the place. Cold ice cream and warm tea is SUCH a fantastic combination!
Then while we were enjoying our treat, we started talking about how we both loved playing board games, but that there is a huge shortage of 2-player games when compared to games that are meant to be played by 3 or more people. Yes, you can play monopoly with two people, but it's not really that much fun.
So then we decided that there were four of us, including the guys, and that we wanted to play games that night. Becky, however, didn't think we had a good shot of convincing the guys. I was a bit more optimistic.
Actually locating the guys in the bar was a bit easier said than done. It is apparently a popular place because it was crammed with people. And when I say crammed, I mean that I had to make people shift their weight so I could actually squeeze around people to look for the guys.
We found them sitting in a prime position at the bar with empty drinks. Seeing that it was a good time to ask them to leave, I yelled to Brent over the noise that Becky and I wanted to head back to the apartment to play a game. He leaned over to Rob to tell him, and they - miraculously - got up - without even arguing that they only had time to try two of the beers on tap. I thought I'd have to pull out more ammo, but apprently we have pretty great guys!
But of couse, they didn't want to stop drinking, so after a Corona and lime run, we settled in with some pretzels and breadsticks to play the game I've been waiting to play since Christmas - Imaginiff, which my future mother-in-law bought me.
For those of you who haven't played it - and I'm betting that there's a bunch of you - it's a game where you are to imagine how one of you would react in a certain situation. For example, one question directed at Brent was "Imaginiff Brent were providing expert testimony at a trial. What type of expert would he be?
1. Marriage counselor
2. Environmental expert
3. Handwriting analyst
4. Paranormal psychic
5. Pet behavior specialist
6. Gastrointestinal surgeon
Then everyone secretly votes and those with the most popular answer get to move their game pieces forward. What makes it fun is you put all the players' names on the board, then fill in the remaining spaces with either people all the players know or celebrities. Celebrities were more fun, though - we picked George W. Bush, Britney Spears, Paris Hilton, and Tom Cruise.
Back to my example. I, knowing my future husband, immediately voted for the gastrointestinal surgeon - as did he, as it turned out. I know my man!
Rob and Becky, being polite, both voted that Brent would be a pet behavior specialist because of our dog. You don't win a game like that being polite!
Well, actually, I guess you do because Rob ended up making it to the center of the board first, and thus winning the game.
This was not OK with Becky and I, who then immediately picked up Battle of the Sexes and ended up triumphant! This was because the guys thought a maillot was, in Rob's words, "maybe some type of blush brush" (it's a woman's one-piece bathing suit) and didn't know that an eggplant is also known as an aubergine. (OK, some of the questions were pretty silly, but who doesn't know which makeup company produces smudge-proof lipstick? Well, Brent and Rob didnt' know it was Maybelline.)
Hense, girls rule and boys drool! At least that's what I declared well after 1 a.m. while relatively buzzed.
I have to say I was really happy that even though Rob and Becky had to get up early the next morning to catch a train, they stayed so late because I'm a big dork and love playing board games! So fun!
Since it was Brent's turn to plan a date for the two of us on Saturday, he of course said we were free to hang out with them - on Saturday. (Not to worry. Next week is not only Valentine's Day, but is also the one-year anniversary of the day he asked me to marry him. Oh come on - if you're married or engaged, you remember the date that your significant other asked you to marry him!)
We started the night off at our apartment so they could see what a couple grand a month can get you in terms of housing in New York City, then started walking downtown on 9th Avenue until we found a nice Italian restaurant, Roberto Passon, that looked good on the corner of 9th and 50th streets.
And it was. The four of us split a bottle of red wine and Rob and I both ordered the pumpkin ravioli with sage, asparagus, and parmesan cheese. It had a bit of a sweet flavor to it and was AMAZING - like most all food in this city!
Afterward, I was having a Pinkberry craving while all the guys could think about was how quickly we could get to the nearby bar that has 25 beers from all over the world... ON TAP. Doesn't take much to please a guy.
Since Becky had never been to Pinkberry, we split up from the guys and enjoyed some time together talking about how ridiculous New York fashion can be. After getting to Pinkberry, she boldly ordered her frozen dessert with strawberries, raspberries, and chocolate chips (very unique!) while I stuck to my marshmellows, kiwi, and fruity pebbles.
And kudos to Becky for finding the warm tea in the corner of the place. Cold ice cream and warm tea is SUCH a fantastic combination!
Then while we were enjoying our treat, we started talking about how we both loved playing board games, but that there is a huge shortage of 2-player games when compared to games that are meant to be played by 3 or more people. Yes, you can play monopoly with two people, but it's not really that much fun.
So then we decided that there were four of us, including the guys, and that we wanted to play games that night. Becky, however, didn't think we had a good shot of convincing the guys. I was a bit more optimistic.
Actually locating the guys in the bar was a bit easier said than done. It is apparently a popular place because it was crammed with people. And when I say crammed, I mean that I had to make people shift their weight so I could actually squeeze around people to look for the guys.
We found them sitting in a prime position at the bar with empty drinks. Seeing that it was a good time to ask them to leave, I yelled to Brent over the noise that Becky and I wanted to head back to the apartment to play a game. He leaned over to Rob to tell him, and they - miraculously - got up - without even arguing that they only had time to try two of the beers on tap. I thought I'd have to pull out more ammo, but apprently we have pretty great guys!
But of couse, they didn't want to stop drinking, so after a Corona and lime run, we settled in with some pretzels and breadsticks to play the game I've been waiting to play since Christmas - Imaginiff, which my future mother-in-law bought me.
For those of you who haven't played it - and I'm betting that there's a bunch of you - it's a game where you are to imagine how one of you would react in a certain situation. For example, one question directed at Brent was "Imaginiff Brent were providing expert testimony at a trial. What type of expert would he be?
1. Marriage counselor
2. Environmental expert
3. Handwriting analyst
4. Paranormal psychic
5. Pet behavior specialist
6. Gastrointestinal surgeon
Then everyone secretly votes and those with the most popular answer get to move their game pieces forward. What makes it fun is you put all the players' names on the board, then fill in the remaining spaces with either people all the players know or celebrities. Celebrities were more fun, though - we picked George W. Bush, Britney Spears, Paris Hilton, and Tom Cruise.
Back to my example. I, knowing my future husband, immediately voted for the gastrointestinal surgeon - as did he, as it turned out. I know my man!
Rob and Becky, being polite, both voted that Brent would be a pet behavior specialist because of our dog. You don't win a game like that being polite!
Well, actually, I guess you do because Rob ended up making it to the center of the board first, and thus winning the game.
This was not OK with Becky and I, who then immediately picked up Battle of the Sexes and ended up triumphant! This was because the guys thought a maillot was, in Rob's words, "maybe some type of blush brush" (it's a woman's one-piece bathing suit) and didn't know that an eggplant is also known as an aubergine. (OK, some of the questions were pretty silly, but who doesn't know which makeup company produces smudge-proof lipstick? Well, Brent and Rob didnt' know it was Maybelline.)
Hense, girls rule and boys drool! At least that's what I declared well after 1 a.m. while relatively buzzed.
I have to say I was really happy that even though Rob and Becky had to get up early the next morning to catch a train, they stayed so late because I'm a big dork and love playing board games! So fun!
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
I seriously should have slept in
The cable guy was supposed to be here today between 8 a.m. and noon to see why I've been having problems getting online at home.
Therefore, because I knew he was going to show up, I kissed Brent goodbye just before 8 a.m. and really couldn't go to sleep knowing that I'd have to be getting up at any minute. And I wanted to at least pull my hair in a ponytail, put on something other than my pj's, and do something about my morning breath before having to deal with a complete stranger.
He buzzed my apartment around 9:30 a.m. - give me an opportunity to pull on a sweatshirt, pick out some eye boogies, and find my glasses - and asked me to try getting online so he could diagnose the problem.
So I did. Successfully. Without his having to do a gosh darn thing.
He looked at me and told me that the problem was most likely that I needed to make sure everything was fully plugged in before attempting to sign on to the Internet.
Once again, I'm not an idiot, but apparently this cable guy thought I was because he couldn't seem to get out of here fast enough. I wish he would have at least done SOMETHING because I just KNEW that it would break later - at a more inconvenient time, like when I didn't have a cable guy here to fix it.
Sure enough, it broke. AGAIN. And I had to listen to elevator music for more than 30 minutes AGAIN while on hold to speak to a cable representative.
And now I have another appointment with (hopefully a different) cable guy on Saturday. So today was all for nothing.
I should have just slept in.
Therefore, because I knew he was going to show up, I kissed Brent goodbye just before 8 a.m. and really couldn't go to sleep knowing that I'd have to be getting up at any minute. And I wanted to at least pull my hair in a ponytail, put on something other than my pj's, and do something about my morning breath before having to deal with a complete stranger.
He buzzed my apartment around 9:30 a.m. - give me an opportunity to pull on a sweatshirt, pick out some eye boogies, and find my glasses - and asked me to try getting online so he could diagnose the problem.
So I did. Successfully. Without his having to do a gosh darn thing.
He looked at me and told me that the problem was most likely that I needed to make sure everything was fully plugged in before attempting to sign on to the Internet.
Once again, I'm not an idiot, but apparently this cable guy thought I was because he couldn't seem to get out of here fast enough. I wish he would have at least done SOMETHING because I just KNEW that it would break later - at a more inconvenient time, like when I didn't have a cable guy here to fix it.
Sure enough, it broke. AGAIN. And I had to listen to elevator music for more than 30 minutes AGAIN while on hold to speak to a cable representative.
And now I have another appointment with (hopefully a different) cable guy on Saturday. So today was all for nothing.
I should have just slept in.
Monday, February 4, 2008
I know you're excited, but I have to be to work at 5:15 a.m.
Yes, yes.
We know.
The whole WORLD knows that the New York Giants won the Superbowl a little after 10 p.m. on Sunday.
Even if I wasn't watching the game (which I was, sort of. I'm more of a Superbowl commercial girl) I would have definitely known that the Giants beat the Patriots just by living here in New York City.
Though I'm used to the incessant honks from taxis by now, everyone seemed to ignore the "one car must honk every two seconds" rule that seems to be in effect in the city and everyone started blasting their horns the second after the last second of the Superbowl ticked down.
And if that wasn't enough, the drunken patrons inside the Lincoln Bar and Grill - which we live above - streamed out of the bar the minute the game was over to scream "New York Giants, baby!" and "The Giants won the Superbowl" into their cell phones or to no one in particular.
Since Brent and I were finishing up our game of Scrabble, we just ignored them and peeked out the windows every once in awhile to see if anyone was overturning any cars. (No such luck.)
But then I started to get irritated when they were still yelling in celebration as I was attempting to fall asleep at 11 p.m. to try and get 5-and-a-half hours of sleep before I had to be to work at 5:15 a.m.
Shouldn't they be celebrating INSIDE the bar, maybe with a beer in their hands so they could watch the post game show?
Again, no such luck.
I guess that's what I should expect from renting an apartment above a bar that doesn't close until 4:30 a.m.! Sigh.
We know.
The whole WORLD knows that the New York Giants won the Superbowl a little after 10 p.m. on Sunday.
Even if I wasn't watching the game (which I was, sort of. I'm more of a Superbowl commercial girl) I would have definitely known that the Giants beat the Patriots just by living here in New York City.
Though I'm used to the incessant honks from taxis by now, everyone seemed to ignore the "one car must honk every two seconds" rule that seems to be in effect in the city and everyone started blasting their horns the second after the last second of the Superbowl ticked down.
And if that wasn't enough, the drunken patrons inside the Lincoln Bar and Grill - which we live above - streamed out of the bar the minute the game was over to scream "New York Giants, baby!" and "The Giants won the Superbowl" into their cell phones or to no one in particular.
Since Brent and I were finishing up our game of Scrabble, we just ignored them and peeked out the windows every once in awhile to see if anyone was overturning any cars. (No such luck.)
But then I started to get irritated when they were still yelling in celebration as I was attempting to fall asleep at 11 p.m. to try and get 5-and-a-half hours of sleep before I had to be to work at 5:15 a.m.
Shouldn't they be celebrating INSIDE the bar, maybe with a beer in their hands so they could watch the post game show?
Again, no such luck.
I guess that's what I should expect from renting an apartment above a bar that doesn't close until 4:30 a.m.! Sigh.
Sunday, February 3, 2008
I KNEW I should have covered my ears
Today, I was innocently sitting in a workshop for my new coffee-shop job learning about the company, coffee, my new job, and its benefits when the presenter, Steve, started talking about the importance of cleanliness. Duh.
But in New York, cleanliness is necessary not only to keep away flies and bugs, but also rats.
Yep, that's right. Rats.
Then he asked, "Do you know how many rats there are in New York City?"
This is the point where I should have put my index fingers in my ears and started to hum the "American Idol" theme song.
Instead, I heard him say "According to the health department, there are SIX rats for every ONE person in New York City."
Now I'm not a math whiz, but I do know that there are 8 million people living in New York City. That means that there are... gulp... 48 MILLION rats living here with me.
Don't believe me? Well, rats as big as cats made national news less than a year ago. As long as you don't ever want to eat fast food in New York, click on the following link:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qvLDFtaL5HI
Yeeeeeeeeaaacccchhhhh!!!!!!!!
But in New York, cleanliness is necessary not only to keep away flies and bugs, but also rats.
Yep, that's right. Rats.
Then he asked, "Do you know how many rats there are in New York City?"
This is the point where I should have put my index fingers in my ears and started to hum the "American Idol" theme song.
Instead, I heard him say "According to the health department, there are SIX rats for every ONE person in New York City."
Now I'm not a math whiz, but I do know that there are 8 million people living in New York City. That means that there are... gulp... 48 MILLION rats living here with me.
Don't believe me? Well, rats as big as cats made national news less than a year ago. As long as you don't ever want to eat fast food in New York, click on the following link:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qvLDFtaL5HI
Yeeeeeeeeaaacccchhhhh!!!!!!!!
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