sewer rats killed the internet star.

"aging cheddar becomes internet star"

i mean honestly, don't people have anything better to do than watch an online video of cheese ripening? although i guess my taking the time to bitch about the people watching the cheese ripen is almost as pathetic.

but, my favorite line of the article: "Watchers have tuned in from as far afield as Albania and New Zealand, although most are from the United States (ed note: of course) where a school has even sent in pictures of two crocodiles to guard the cheese."

why in the world would a crocodile be an appropriate sentry for a hunk of cheese?

i'm all about balance.

i believe it is a true testament to my piscean nature that the two highlights of my week thus far have been:

1. joining a gym
2. deep fried meatballs

those crazy little flakes.

unlike most people, i don't like milk in my cereal. i'd rather pick at dry cereal - i mean, really, aren't soggy flakes just SO gross to look at? - as though its a snack mix. this makes for a sometimes messy experience, especially when i'm breakfasting at my desk.

today was no exception - although my mess turned out to be quite exceptional.

while tearing through my mini-bowl of special K i dropped a few flakes on the floor, so i bent down and picked them up (seriously, its amazing i get any work at all done in the morning with the amount of time i spend on my hands and knees behind my desk, scouring the floor for bits of cereal). while transporting a final handful into my mouth, i felt one flake drop. so i again inspected the floor, my lap, my chair, but the little guy was no where to be found. after a few minutes of looking, i gave up, assuming i must have imagined the drop.

fast forward to 6pm. i'm leaving my office, and am waiting at the elevator. as i go to zip up the hoodie i have on under my jacket (thanks, abnormally cold april) i feel something in the fabric next to the zipper. i look down at the hem, and notice a little bump next to the zipper. upon touching the bump, i feel it crumble. there's no way....says a little incredulous voice in my head.

but oh yes, there was a way. somehow, that little special K flake managed to find an opening flap of extra fabric inside of my hoodie, fall inside it, and then tuck itself into the hem at the bottom. i was amazed.

and a crazy old flake.

there have been few disturbances in the halls of our building lately, but tonight the truce between "cuckoo" (old woman across the hall) and "junkie" (woman in the apt below us) - both names we've heard them call each other, we wouldn't come up with such nasty monikers for our neighbors - was broken.

while watching the rangers kick ass! whoo! this evening i heard a ruckus starting up in the hall almost as loud as the one going on in the Garden. i dashed to the peephole, and saw cuckoo's door open. i then heard her yelling from the stairwell. junkie was shouting back at her. cuckoo raised her voice (a boon to the girl huddled behind her fireproof door, listening intently) and let loose a stream of threats that ended with "if i ever hear you or see you again..." junkie cut her off, and suddenly junkie was cut off with the spraying sound of an aerosol can.

door slams, cuckoo comes back up to our floor. i think its safe to say the elderly woman across the hall maced a fellow purdy court resident with lysol.

goodness i'm going to miss this place when we move.

future goals.

after a particularly hellish meeting this afternoon, i've decided that if and when i ever run my own company, i'm outlawing tuna fish. i won't mind if my employees wear sweatpants to the office, call their friends every 15 minutes, and refuse participation in our office 'secret santa' - as long as they don't eat tunafish for lunch in our workspace.

especially not in the conference room, where a short time later, a fellow employee might have to sit for a meeting and keep her nose buried in her sleeve for a 1/2 hour lest she pass out from the lingering noxious fumes.

friday afternoon fruit medley.

i had a tupperware disaster this morning while transporting my breakfast to work, so my bag absolutely reeks of pineapples. as do i, since i've been trying to clean the juice off/unstick my belongings for the past few hours and i've gotten juice on my sweater, and possibly in my hair. which isn't necessarily a bad thing - i've come to realize i'm never unhappy when i eat fruit. so sitting here feeling/smelling like a giant pineapple, while messy, has been rather uplifting.

*****

which is greatly needed, considering the past week. its been rough, to say the least, and i'll focus on one of the more insignificant troubling aspects of it, since words couldn't ever do justice to the actually significant part. in loveandcyanide land, overzealous humidifiers and tumbles in trannie heels are the worst things to happen to us.

so my ipod is broken. upon receiving a heap of new music two weeks ago, thing 1 (missy and i have matching ipods engraved with "thing 1" and "thing 2", named after the mischievous cat in the hat characters. the book's characters, not the movie's. the movie does not exist to us. if dr. seuss had intended for his characters to look nightmarishly frightful he would've drawn them that way, not face-painted jim carrey and mike myers to look like weird animal-esque clowns.) decided he had had enough, and shut down in the midst of a song and has yet to turn back on. i haven't yet had a chance to get him looked at due to more pressing matters, so my commutes have been tuneless.

which is basically torture. without my headphone buffer, i've been subject to all sorts of nonsense from the outside world that my books and magazines just cannot as effectively tune out. however, on the train yesterday evening i was privy to a performance that i would've completely missed had thing 1 been working.

i've seen/heard this subway car singer before - he is quite memorable as his voice is so unique, yet somehow familiar, although i can't put my finger on who exactly he sounds like. the closest thing i can come up with is a more feminine-sounding gargamel. with a voice like that you would think one would stick to, say, ad jingles, but no, his favorite song is "amazing grace".

so he appeared in my train car yesterday, and started singing his signature tune. after a few choruses, while i was bracing myself for another yodel of "saved a wretch like me", he suddenly launched into everyone's favorite sleazy disco hit, "do ya think i'm sexy?" i chuckled aloud at such a priceless mix, and for that i am grateful my pod is currently out of order.

although not so grateful that i won't be hitting up the apple store this weekend.

when banks compete, you win.

i stole that line from some commercial, but i truly experienced it today. i don't know if chase has been losing a lot of customers lately or what, but my trip to the bank just before was the most hardcore helpful customer-service experience i've ever had. i daresay if i had asked mark, the bank manager, who personally delivered my money to me (doesn't the branch manager have more important duties to attend to?), to shine my shoes, he so would have.

and keeping on the subject of ads, i've decided that the usage of the muppet's "manamanah" song in the new saturn commercials totally distresses me.

a beary good time.

not like we don't usually speak of all things ursine here at loveandcyanide, but this week our lives were even more bear-filled than usual. as if that was even possible!

to cap off our bearalicious week, last night we had the pleasure of watching the most entertaining documentary we've seen in awhile - Project Grizzly. the story of a man on a mission to build an indestructible suit of armor that would enable him to get closer to these sometime deadly bears, this film has it all - humor, pathos, insane bearsuit-testing that involved much pummeling, and of course gratuitous grizzly shots.

we give this one two thumbs - and a (stuffed) paw - wayyy up.

smells like a comeback.

first off, i'll apologize for being a slacker...its been a rough two weeks and as you can see that there is a new (old) post below that was written awhile back, that means i wasn't even able to hit the publish button let alone write anything new. considering loveandcyanide has dwindled from a trio to a solo project, its gotten a little tougher to keep up the good work. but i'm persevering. if anyone ever wanted to know the difference between missy, chrissy and bear, its that two of the three not only abandoned this little project but don't even read the site anymore, whereas the last third is holding up the fort all by herself. yes, in these ritalin-addled times, one of us still foolishly believes in loyalty.

anyhow, we're back in business. in the past few weeks a lot of good stuff has happened, a few bad things have happened, and of course a few crazy things have happened. there was a nutty religious zealot cab driver, a 5-day bacon binge (um, hello heaven), a possible OD on Sparks malt beverages, an exotic familial discovery, a mysterious raise, a viewing of the dumbest television program ever made, and a rash of new nicknames for missy and i inspired by the bachelor (if you shouted "star spangled ass muffin" into our apartment, i guarantee one of us would answer you).

but instead of talking about those things, i'm making my comeback with a tale of a rather mundane experience i had leaving my office today. you know when you catch the whiff of something and you automatically can place the scent? well, when stepping into the elevator i caught the unmistakable whiff of plumeria.

remember the body shop's plumeria? that brilliant fuchsia colored potion that at least 3/4 of your friends were sporting in high school? (it was my personal fave). well, there it was in my elevator. i actually had no idea they even still made it, but the second it hit my nose, i knew what it was. and i couldn't help but smile, since it reminded me of the most humorous perfume-related experience i've ever had:

freshman year of college, one of my close guy friends was hanging out in my room, and discovered the spray bottle of plumeria that either my roommate or i had on our shelf. after sniffing it, he went on a tirade about an ex who wore the scent and how he couldn't stand it. so enraged by the memory of this girl, he commented that i could never, ever wear it again. apparently not satisfied by my nod of appeasement, he then wound up and tossed the bottle out the window and onto the lawn behind our dorm.

i never wore plumeria again. but to this day i'll still chuckle when i smell it.