Monday, September 29, 2008

morbid monday.

I was supposed to do this post on Thursday evening, and somehow a handful of days managed to escape me. so last thursday was going to be a pretty uneventful weeknight – missy and i were heading home from work to cook dinner and catch up on some television from the week, and on our way to the subway we happened upon a dexter newsstand. Which is exactly what it sounds like – a newsstand filled with all things relating to showtime’s marvelous show Dexter. Being huge fans, we made a beeline to the stand and the marketing peons running it ambushed us with fanzines, free candy, and Gatorade. (or um, maybe we were the first passersby to actually ambush them)

regardless, it was like Christmas, just slightly more macabre and without the evergreen, since everything at the stand – from the sign to the Gatorade to all the various types of candy – was red. Which worked out great for us since we walked away with a bunch of sugary favorites - red hots, red sour straws, and – probably the most amazing thing to happen to me that evening – a cherry airhead. i haven't had an airhead in ages. MMMMMMMM.

so yes, this was all a giant campaign – a successful one, we think – for the new season, which started last night and although we won’t be watching the premiere until this evening we KNOW it was amazing and hope you all might tune in if you aren’t already fans. or at least look for a dexter newsstand near you, so you can make out like crimson-candied bandits as well.

as if the serial killer candy bonanza wasn’t enough for that one evening, we then stopped into our local supermarket to pick up non-sugary food for dinner, and in the cereal aisle missy discovered “uncle sam’s laxative cereal”. Not kidding. Way to get that point across! i really wish one of us had a camera with us to capture both the cereal box and our delirious grins when she called me over and showed it to me.

lastly, to go back to today’s theme, we had spent this weekend – and morning – at a family funeral. i know, we’ve all been to funerals and they are unpleasant and awkward, so we’re not going to go on about it more than we have to. however i had spent a good few minutes this morning just staring at the carpeting in the funeral home, and as it looked insanely familiar, and as I hadn’t been in that particular funeral home in about three years, i decided that it must be because all funeral homes use similar carpeting - an evenly-spaced pattern of little floral bouquets. And the more I sat there pondering the carpet, the more i realized that it was really the most fitting covering for any mourner who happened to stare at the floor – the slight design was distracting but not dizzying, the repetition of it somewhat soothing and easy to focus on. And in that moment – and all the subsequent ones after, while i continue to think about this stupid carpet, on the subway to my office and now sitting in my office (clearly thinking of anything but the work i should be thinking of) – i feel ridiculously comforted knowing that so much thought was put into that floor covering.

Tuesday, September 23, 2008

tuesday briefs.

isn't spam so much more tolerable when it comes from an interestingly named sender? earlier today i completely ignored harold's advice on enlarging my manhood, yet took a second glance at agamemnon's selection of canadian pharmaceuticals. greek mythology is definitely the way to go there, spammers.


is there something about cold-weather shoes that make people shuffle more? during the past two days coworkers have all been shuffling into my office (unfortunately it isn't the manhattan shuffle!), and i have to attribute it to the fact that they are no longer wearing sandals and have their feet covered up for the fall.

or, given the nature of this place, unless its just because the rug is filled with more mouse hair than usual. bleh.


but while we're on the topic of animals, an FYI in case anyone was thinking of visiting the NY Aquarium - most definitely go during the week day, during the school year. i had a friend in town the past few days, and took friday off for an aquarium adventure. sure we felt a little silly at the sea lion show when we realized the aquatheater was filled with basically all elderly couples, but the animals were so bored with no kids around to torture them that an otter came right up to the edge of his tank and hung out with us for a good 20 minutes. it was the cutest thing i've seen in ages, and probably the highlight of my month. he's so lucky i couldn't heft him over the glass partition or else he'd be stuck doing flips in my bathtub right now.

Thursday, September 18, 2008

scaring the neighbors.

there's this guy who lives in our building, i believe the floor below us, and it just so happens that almost every time we, or missy herself, bumps into him in the elevator, its under the circumstances where she's taken by surprise, and either gasps, screams, or jumps when he appears. (we startle extremely easily, in case we've never mentioned it before) so our joke is that this guy thinks she's totally nuts, since he's the quiet sort and just sort of nods and looks away when she does her little startle thing, or at times, big startle thing, and when i'm there during her startle thing we both wind up laughing hysterically afterwards, so he never speaks to us otherwise. this will come into play later on in the story.

so, yesterday evening i had just finished cleaning my apartment and was getting ready to attend a family fun night with missy and dad at the yankee game. our dad was picking us up to drive us to the stadium, and was dropping miscellaneous items off for us first (good porter chauffeur father he is!). when he called to tell me he was outside my apartment he also mentioned that he was going to 'send up' the bag of towels he brought for us in the elevator, and i could just grab them when they appeared at my floor (after lugging our laundry up three flights of stairs to our old apartment almost every other sunday night for two years, the man is thrilled we live in an elevator building and as witnessed in this story, utilizes it in any manner possible). he would then go find a parking spot and come up to my abode and wait until missy arrived home from work and we could leave for the game. simple enough.

at the time that i took this phone call i was in the middle of changing into something less suitable for vacuuming/more suitable for an athletic event outing, and as my buzzer rang, signifying that a giant garbage bag of towels was coming up to visit me, i happened to be in just a bra and a pair of old, hole-y sweatpants. as i had about 30 seconds to run out and grab the towels, i contemplated doing so in my current ensemble.

in the end, as i heard the elevator ding at my floor, i grabbed a tshirt and was throwing it on as i burst out of my apartment and dove for the elevator, so i could hold the door and grab my laundry.

we all know what happens next. as my door slams shut behind me, i realize that i just locked myself out of my apartment. in sweatpants with a giant hole in the backside area, and barefoot (but blessfully, by about 3 seconds, with a shirt on).

after a fit of laughter over my current state of disaster, i panic that if my father does not come immediately up to my apartment (he had our keys with him yesterday, thank goodness) and instead just opts to sit in the car after he parks it, i will have to sit in the hall until missy comes home. thinking there had to be a safer bet, i decide to go downstairs and outside in the hopes of flagging the man down as he's circling 31st street.

and i indeed manage to do so, after a few minutes of loitering, barefoot, on the middle of a main street outside of my apartment. so my genius plan did work (concerned father pulls up, rushes out of car and inquires why i am outside without any shoes on; later he confides he was worried i lost my mind) but not before aforementioned neighbor arrives home from work. as he passes me to enter the building, i say hello, he smiles at me, and i burst into laughter, knowing what he must be thinking about the disheveled sister of the weird elevator screamer.

at this point, we've given up all hope of him thinking we're anything close to normal. we're kind of just hoping he doesn't try to have us evicted.

Wednesday, September 10, 2008

disturbing new discoveries.

as we all know, i don't have any children and i don't spend very much time with any children, so forgive me if everyone else has been aware of this unsettling trend and we're just waking up to it...

but what happened to lunch boxes?!?!

i'm on a rabid hunt for a thermos - an old-school, plastic, unscrew-the-lid-and-flip-the-spout-up, laden-with-cartoon-characters, show-off-to-all-your-classmates thermos - and figured i could just pop into any old department-type store with a back-to-school section and purchase a lunch box and find my thermos inside. i honestly thought my biggest issue was that i wouldn't like the character selection and have to settle for stupid dora the explorer (top choice? spongebob). but no dice. not even close.

they don't even call them lunch boxes anymore - lunch bags, lunch kits, even lunch totes. and even somewhere that still does use the beloved old term for them - the website - barely sells any that come with a thermos inside. many do, however, come with a 'can pouch'. what the hell?! no wonder kids are so obese - they have a soda holster built right on to their school accessories.

i'm finding this all seriously distressing. if anyone comes across a spare thermos in their parents' attic, please send it our way.

Tuesday, September 09, 2008


i am on reprieve, lacking my joie de vivre.

those are my favorite lyrics from one of my favorite songs - the legionnaire's lament - by the decemberists. considering my love of the sea and their penchant for seafaring stories in their tunes, its saying a lot that these lyrics are above the rest. in any event, they are also the only explanation we have for abandoning our dear little loveandcyanide the past two weeks. i don't know where my joie de vivre went, but it was most certainly not sitting atop my shoulder as it usually is.

but we're bringing ourselves back to form. there's been a lot going on in our absence - trips to wild islands, close encounters with deer, tomfoolery, job hunting, dinner partying, embarking on the journey of watching every episode of 90210 that ever existed - but we're just going to focus on two little stories involving our train platform.

every so often, but quite frequently during the past two weeks, there appears a homeless man (i think. he looks and smells homeless, but i probably shouldn't judge the book by its cover.) on our subway platform. which isn't so much of an oddity, i know - what is is the fact that about 5 feet away from where he sits on the bench he has lined up about 25 small plastic grocery bags. this gaggle of bags always appears whenever he is around, so i assume they contain his belongings, and i have to wonder - how exactly does he get all these bags up on the platform, and even more importantly, how will he get them all on the train before the doors close? do people help him?
and how long does it take him to drag them all up the steps? why doesn't he consolidate the small bags into larger bags so he has less to carry? really, i have become so fixated with this man and his mysterious pile of bags that i won't be surprised to find myself next to him on the bench, waiting patiently for a train to arrive so i can watch him in action.

oh, and help. of course!


and while i wasn't toting 20-something bags with me when i went away two weekends ago for labor day, i was in fact carrying about 100 lbs between my ginormous duffle bag and three smaller bags (note to dear readers: when traveling to a destination where cars are not allowed, use a bag with wheels!! we learned the hard way.). as i swung the duffle around and attempted to propel myself up the subway steps by the sheer force of my over packing, i spotted a con edison maintenance worker sauntering my way. ever the optimist, i assumed that this nice man was coming to help a damsel in distress (even though as we all know the cynicist in me would've never allowed him to touch my bags, lest he went running down 31st street with my hair dryer and bathing suits and i'd later find them for sale at the salvation army). and so he approached, and as i struggled towards the stairs i waited to hear a kindly "can i help you?" instead the interaction went like this:

con ed worker: hey! you have really beautiful feet.
chrissy: what?!
con ed worker: your toes - that color...
chrissy: seriously?! you're coming over here to comment on my feet!
con ed worker: no, really! that color is really sexy. *whistles*

as i huffed and puffed my way up the remainder of the steps, i had to laugh at how ridiculous the whole scene was -- although now in retrospect i wonder if he was actually coming to help me and just got distracted by my shiny purple toenail polish. hmmph.