Wednesday, January 31

Accident Prone

My parents have said many times that they should purchase an ambulance as our family vehicle since our family is extremely accident/sickness prone.

I am no exception to this wonderful family trait. I am a klutz, injury myself in bizarre ways and have a wimpy immune system. I have been in the hospital for such things as : almost slicing my thumb off by opening a soup can, dislocating my knee cap while doing layups at basketball practice, and getting a concussion after passing out after being bitten by a dog. Not even cool injuries....not from heroic efforts, not from intense, extreme sports. Just basic activities. I have considered buying a bubble to live in, but that's just not a convenient way to live. So I just suck it up, try to be as careful as possible, and pray that my next visit to the emergency room isn't because I lost in a battle to a non-perishable food item.

That being said, I am going snowboarding this weekend. Before I get into this, let me just tell you that I have attempted a winter sport before. I have skiied a few times, injuring myself every. single. time. I had fun skiing, before I sprained my wrist/disclocated my knee. But I'm just not terribly coordinated. It's an unfortunate truth that I must face if I ever want to be able to laugh at how ABSURD my track record of getting hurt is.

So snowboarding. Why, you might ask? Well, I think it will probably be fun....and hopefully not too painful. Truthfully, my sort of girlfriend (?) is the reason I am going. She loves to snowboard and doesn't get to go nearly as often as she would like. The winter hasn't really provided wonderful conditions for snowboarding either. So of course I was excited about booking a trip up to Vermont to snowboard. I figure she's going to make me try it eventually, and escaping for a weekend away with her is hard to pass up.

Here's what I'm really concerned about. Breaking my ass. You might laugh, but from what I've heard, your ass takes quite a beating. And if ANYONE is going to break their ass, it's going to be me. I certainly don't want to show up at work next week with one of those ridiculous donuts to sit on. I will never hear the end of it - my coworkers, while hysterical, are merciless when it comes to these things.

Well, wish me luck. If you don't hear from me for a while, you can assume I am in a hospital up in the mountains in a full body cast. I promise to write once they cut me out.


Thursday, January 25

I'm thinking about becoming a chipmunk

Here is the thing. I have a strong disdain for winter. More specifically, any time of year when the temperature drops below 50 degrees. You would think I grew up in a warm climate, a place where the sun shone brightly for more than three quarters of the year and going to the beach in December was completely normal.

But I did not. I grew up in the snowy cold winters of New England. People in New England like to say, If you don't like the weather, wait a minute. Which I suppose is valid....the weather here does change often. But for the most part, winter is cold. You have to dress in layers and pray to god that your extremities have enough blood flowing to them so as to prevent any type of frostbite. It's just unnatural for it to be that cold. More precisely, it is unnatural to venture outside when it is that cold.

I know I just sound bitter about the winter - but hear me out. All of nature (well, most of nature) hides in the winter time. Birds fly south, fish in small bodies of water swim the bottom of the water where it is warmer and stay still under the frozen ice, bears and other woodland/foresty type creatures store up food all year round until the temperature drops and then they hibernate. Simply, they sleep.

This is why, I've decided, I'd like to become a chipmunk. Why you ask? Chipmunks are cute little woodland animals, but more importantly, they store up food in their cheeks. How ingenius is that? They store up their food and then for the most part, they live in trees and sleep all winter.

Ok, so maybe that's not exactly what happens. In my head, that's what hibernation means. But then again, I am not an animal expert. I do know that walking outside in the winter makes me angry. Not at anything in particular, just at the air for making my lips chapped, my skin dry and my hands feel frozen 24/7. This is why I'd like to transform myself into a hibernating animal.

Then I wouldn't have to get up and venture outside for things like class or work, you know - "important" things. ;) I also wouldn't feel obligated to work out or be productive. I could just gorge myself on all kinds of yummy, filling foods and then fall asleep. When I wake up, it will be warm again and I can stop feeling like a grumpy ass bear and start feeling like a normal, functioning individual whose body temperature doesn't feel like it's nearing 90 degrees.

This is chipmunk, signing off. Tomorrow is supposed to be 16 degrees in this area. god speed.


Tuesday, January 23

She works hard for the money

I hate money. Maybe this is because I have none. My guess is that most people who are broke hate money....or more accurately, the lack thereof. I doubt that millionaires sit around their beautiful beachfront mansions and discuss how much they just hate the three million they just made on their last movie.

Here's what I hate about money the most. The less you have, the more people take from you. The bank is a perfect example of an institution that bases much of its business on this this idiotic principle. If you overdraw your account, they charge you money. So let's say you have $14 and you make a purchase with your debit card for $18. Now, I'm not mathematician or anything, but I think that means you have -$4. And then, the bank charges you $20 for not having enough money in the first place. So now, you have NOT no money. You only wish you had $0....but you don't even have that much. Then the bank sends you a little note in the mail.

Dear Poverty Stricken Individual,

Recently we have noticed you are having some budgeting issues and your account was overdrawn by $4. We empathize with your situation. Therefore, we have charged the $20 overdraft fee to your account. Your account is now -$24.


Your Bank
# I in Customer Inconvenience.

There are times when I think about taking a picture of myself wearing nothing but a barrel and eating a banana peel and put it on the front of a card and send it back to the bank.

Dear Ass Monkeys,

Recently I noticed that you took $20 of the less than no money I already had in my bank account. Being in banking, one would assume your accounting skills are top of the line. Therefore, I wonder why you act surprised that I am in debt, seeing as you charged me money for having no money. If you could perhaps take your empathetic feelings towards my recent impoverished situation and maybe give me BACK the $20 that you took that didn't really exist in the first place, that would be swell. As always, thanks for not fucking me big time.


Another broke customer.

Saturday, January 20

Coffee talk

For the past two hours, I have been sitting in a local coffee shop getting some work done and browsing the internet for potential jobs and summer fellowship opportunities. In addition to being productive, I have also been listening to a woman sitting at the tables next to me discuss literally her entire life story. She is sitting with two men, neither of which are her husband, I know this because I know her husband is deceased. I know THIS because she talked about him and their home in Hudson Valley where she was a teacher for over 25 years. I won't subject you to anymore information about said woman....but let's just say that she has barely stopped talking long enough to take a breath or sip her coffee.

The men didn't say much, responding occasionally with comments but only barely open their mouths before she was off and running again with yet another anecdote from her life. She laughed at her own jokes, she answered her own questions, she discussed her likes and dislikes as if she was on a first date with herself.

It has been mind numbing. I understand that people come to coffee shops to talk - but there is no need to loudly talk incessantly for two hours. This is what I get for not remembering my headphones. I could be blasting John Legend right now and enjoying my coffee peacefully. Instead, I am learning that Woman A likes to listen to books on tape in her car instead of listening to music and that books on tape are the way she became interested in submarines.

Enough said. know that cliche that everyone has the "senior freak-out" - the crisis that occurs for everyone about to graduate from college? I didn't think it was going to happen to me. I truly didn't believe that I was going to find myself panicking about an event that I have been prepared for for years now. I guess I try to portray the calm, cool, collected version of myself I'd like everyone to see....when on the inside, there is a volcano of anxiety about to errupt and cause me to watch Roseanne reruns until 3 AM on Nick at Nite due to insomnia.

Speaking of which. Does it bother anyone else that Family Matters, Roseanne and Full House are all now played on Nick at Nite? When I was little, Nick at Nite played I Love Lucy and Mork & Mindy re-runs. Old shows. Shows in black and white or fuzzy color....not shows with Steve Irkel! What is happening - are these shows consider old now? How can TGIF shows be on Nick at Nite????? Where is Mr. Cooper when I need him?

I know I'm not "old." But for some reason, 22 just sounds strange. Responsible even. And now this. If Salt N Peppa start playing on the B 101 oldies station here, my quarter life crisis will be in full swing.


Friday, January 19


After many, many blog posts on my myspace page, I have decided to join the world of actual blogging...which I am told includes everyone from major celebrities, to your average professional, new parents, all the way down to computer nerds.

So welcome to my blog. I suppose my reasons for wanting to do this vary, from pure narcisism to a genuine interest in human nature, life's many paradoxes, and being able to discuss all of this things in prose form. If you'd asked me when I was in my early teens what I wanted to be when I "grew up," I suppose I'd probably have said a writer. I began journaling when I was seven (perhaps some of my most profound work was done in the diary...) and haven't looked back. I'm a big fan of poetry, although it isn't my forte when it comes to actual writing styles. My poetry is usually sickeningly full of romantic notions as usually the only time I am moved to poeting (I make up words a lot, get used to it.) is when I am feeling, as my ex calls, it "squishy."

Def, squishy. Adj. The quality of having lovey, warm, gooey feelings for someone else.

Anyway. The idea behind this blog isn't to be squishy so you will seldom find poetry in here. Unless of course I am moved to write a hiku about renewing my driver's license at the DMV. It could happen.