thermometer testing: day 2; and other stories.

after spending a night/day on my dresser, the thermometer now reads 64 degrees - so at least we know its working, and that the temperature is dropping as we go room to room. missy has taken it tonight, so we'll see which sister wins the award for chilliest bedroom. i suppose it should be hers, as that's the one that the polar bear sleeps in.

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so they say that working out is just as good for your mind as your body, and i'm finding it pretty true lately - i've fallen into a prickly stretch of work/life, and i wind up feeling best on the evenings that i hit the gym and blow off a little steam (and dance around on the elliptical).

but beyond the workout portion of the outing, i actually find the locker room to be even more wonderful for my mental health - i couldn't make up the nonsense that these crazy, rich, naked (generally anyone over 40 and in the locker room - which is basically everyone save me and another girl or two who also get the cheap company discount, otherwise we'd never be allowed in this upper east side old broad club - hangs out in various states of nothingness. i'm all for good self-esteem, but holy cow, that locker room makes me hope and pray that gravity goes easy on me.) old ladies go on about.

this evening, one of them, we'll call her esther because she is often there swimming, went on a 10 minute rant about the fight she had gotten into with one of the yoga instructors because he allowed a new member of the class to take her favorite spot in the front of the room. she was spitting mad. i am always in the front because i know what i'm doing! i don't know if i can go back to that class anymore. then she was practically in tears. is this what people fret about when they don't have to worry about money? goodness. i leave the gym feeling better about my sanity than i do the fact that i just burned a few cookies off.

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we've watched a bunch of excellent movies lately (no. not in the theater, since god forbid we actually get to go see a movie when its current), as all our shows are coming to an end and we've gotten back on our netflix kick. in no particular order, we highly suggest: the hoax and broken english.

thermometer testing: day 1

background: having been whining about the chill factor in our apartment ever since the temperature dropped below about 40, this past weekend when we were at our parents' they ordered us to get a thermometer, find out how cold it actually is in this place, and then when we actually know whether or not its illegally cold in here (well, not illegally, i suppose. neglectfully cold.), complain to the building manager. our nana later on told us to get multiple thermometers, to place throughout the apt, advising that she "has at least three hanging around." our family is nothing if not excessive.

but good thing, as we failed to procure a thermometer yesterday afternoon during a shopping trip to target, so nana had to give us one of hers. (she participated in the heartwarming 'passing of the thermometer' scene with a slightly exasperated "how can my granddaughters' be so inept" look on her face). like thermometers grow on trees!

anyhow, the thermometer currently reads 68 degrees, a day after we placed it on the table in the middle of our living room/kitchen area. as missy and i cannot remember if the thermometer started off at 68 or 72 (it was somewhere around the 70 mark...) we have no clue if the thing is actually reading the temp in our apt or is simply stuck at whatever temp it was in nana's house the last time it was working (quite possibly 1987). and so this evening i will be moving it into my bedroom - "the igloo" - to see if there's any movement.

if the mercury plummets so quickly that the glass tube shatters, i will be sure to take pictures. stay tuned!

waiter, there's a shrimp in my soup.

i don't know what it is about me that compels the chinese food industry to put random shrimp in my food. perhaps i shouldn't take it personally and they happen to show up in everyone's food, and i'm really the only one noticing/caring because i'm not that into shrimp; but i'm thinking that isn't the case.

in any event, the wayward shrimp of today's order showed up in my wonton soup. and i don't care what dining companions have said in the past about it being ok when a shrimp finds it's way into my eggroll (like always) or my lo mein or fried rice (on occasion) - there is really no good reason why a shrimp should be in my soup.

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since it's friday, and it's snowing, i'll leave you with a more uplifting food related story:

i'm sure you've all experienced when some song you vaguely know from a long time ago will sometimes randomly pop into your mind. well, every once in awhile a snippet of this song that was used in one of my dance recitals when i was about 4-5 years old will play in my head. and as the song was instrumental, i could never figure out a way to find out what the song actually was.

so earlier today, i heard the song playing from a coworker's office. i thought to myself, no. way. and went and hovered outside his office to listen. and sure enough, there it was. after barging into his office and explaining the situation, i was thrilled to finally find out what this tune was:

"popcorn" by hot butter.


i wonder if this has been a subconscious factor in the fact that i love popcorn.

wednesday morning grumpiness.

reason #347 why i will start walking to work if the MTA goes through with their oft-threatened fare hike:

this morning as i crawled to work on a local train, i saw the express zoom past. as we pulled in to the next station, there sat the express across the platform. yay! as i stood waiting for the doors of my train to open, i notice the express doors close. as our doors open, the express pulls away. before any of us have the chance to transfer to it. fury!

why, exactly, should i pay more than $2 for such incompetence???

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i KNOW that probably no one else in the office liked the 'lemon blueberry passionfruit' tea (ed. note: sounds weird, but it was really quite good), so i sort of reconciled with the fact that once i finished off the box, they didn't replenish it. but this morning as i finished the last of the english black and went to the cabinet to replace it, i was faced with only boxes of earl grey. i like the earl and all, but we used to have about five tea varieties, and now we're down to just one, meanwhile the coffee drinkers just got a snazzy new 'german chocolate' variety. no fair!

this calls for a little note to our office suggestion box.

real estate realities.

situation: your broker shows you a fifth floor apt in a high-rise building in an area where there are no others.

you think: score! great views, no neighbors to peep through windows, no possibility of a burglar accessing/entering the building via roof from a neighboring building without possessing a helicopter.

reality: on a blustery evening, your windows will be so incredibly battered by the wind that you are kept awake the entire night.

kinda kreepy.

i don't spend much time at deli counters - i'm not really a fan of cold cuts ("lunch meat", if you prefer). never have been. i don't eat tunafish or pb&j either, so basically i was the lunchtime freak back in elementary school with gourmet leftover meals in their lunchbox. - so i don't know, maybe this is a usual occurrence:

key food had on display this evening, in the deli case, a giant bowl of "krab salad". is the errant K a cute nod to Keyfood, or to signify that there's no way there is real crab meat in that bowl? yick.

being picky.

one of my major pet peeves is when someone says to me, "i KNOW you're going to love this" and i don't. in fact, sometimes i absolutely hate it, and i will therefore forever slightly despise that person for thinking i'd "love" whatever person/place/thing it is, because clearly that means that they have no idea who i am. (PH, i feel like you'll comment on this - please note that i'm disregarding the fact that many times i just purposely rebel against something when someone tries a little too hard to make me like it; i'm not referring to such instances).

an example of the aforementioned is the movie donnie darko.

on the other hand, sometimes someone gets it just right, and i absolutely adore the thing that they are telling me i will.

like so.

pondering the boundaries of small talk.

the elevator at my place of work has been broken for the past 2 days (not like its usual level of operation ever seems to be more than a mere cable away from broken), which is turning into a bit of a nuisance. one would say "take the stairs, since you haven't been to the gym in 2 weeks", and i would, happily, as i'm only on the third floor. however, our stairwell is something out of a horror movie - i'm not exaggerating, its narrow and dank with little alcoves where someone could hide..they could seriously film Saw 76 in there - and when i have no choice but to use them, i run down as though my life depended on it. if there's a camera (or surveillance alarm clock) in the area, i'm certain security gets quite the laugh when i flee down the stairs.

so with the stairs a life-threatening option, our only other choice right now is the service elevator. which moves much faster (read: normal elevator speed) than our usual one, so that's nice; but it also services the entire apartment building we're connected to, and thus takes awhile to get back down from floor 25. which means a longer wait time than usual. which means, getting to know your building neighbors.

so i've seen this guy in the elevator before - he works on the floor below us, and is always super chatty with coworkers of mine. as i've never been formally introduced to him as i've only nodded in agreement while he talked to others i was standing with, nor am i much of an "elevator chat-ter" in general, when i saw him approaching i did my usual "hi, we're both waiting for the elevator" smile but didn't make any overtures towards conversation. he immediately did.

which was fine. at first. he introduced himself, asked how long i've been working here, commented on the current elevator situation, the weather - it was your totally normal morning small-talk between two strangers. then we segued into uncharted territory:

chatty guy: you know, its always so nice to meet new people, especially since new york is such a big place.
chrissy: oh, i know.
c.g.: i mean, i've been here for 10 years already and its still so hard for me to make friends.
chrissy (to self): isn't there a big difference between "meeting new people in an elevator" and "making friends"?
chrissy (aloud): yea, that can be difficult sometimes.
c.g.: especially friends to hang out with on the weekends.
chrissy (to self): is he suggesting i become a weekend friend?
chrissy (aloud): mm-hmm.
c.g.: you know, it can get very lonely in this city...
elevator door opens on c.g.'s floor. he steps out. chrissy rejoices.
chrissy: have a good one!

while i don't necessarily think he was angling for a space on my weekend agenda, if he had been, why on earth would he take the "i'm so lonely, i have no friends" route? since when did personal relationship issues (well, or lack thereof) become fodder for elevator talk? save it for therapy! and people wonder why i err on the side of silence. maybe now i need to work on my "i'm a bad listener" face...

the search is over.

at some point last spring my alarm clock broke. he was just your basic clock radio - am/fm, by sony, a matte silver cube - that i believe i had since college. and while i usually tire of objects i look at daily (bedspreads, coats, toothbrush holders) after about 2 years, for some reason i never had the urge to replace this one. he was serviceable, and just sat on my nightstand, blending in nicely in four different bedrooms and waking me every morning. and so the years passed and i took for granted that i had, i suppose, the perfect alarm clock.

fast forward to earlier today - about 8 months after my old clock broke - and there i was, still hunting for an alarm clock. yes, i know...what is my problem? everyone i have complained to about this - most especially the lucky few who've had the added privilege of waking up to the ms. pac-man theme song blaring from my cell phone - have asked me the same question. and frankly, i don't know. i went from having the same clock for about 7 years as i couldn't care less about it, to needing the absolute most perfect alarm clock in the universe, one that was just born to fit in with the decor of my bedroom. and there were just so many options - do i want to wake up to my ipod? the radio? a buzzer? do i go with aesthetics or function? should it be whimsical or minimalist? do i want it to "moo" me awake? project numbers on my ceiling? tell me the weather? videotape me?** do i want my alarm clock to roll around the room, or fly through the air? and on and on and on.

it's been a most arduous search. which is why i am positively giddy that about an hour ago, i stumbled upon exactly what i think i was looking for. the stars must have all been in alignment today as it mixes style and function all in one adorable limited-edition package; it's a piece of art as much as it is a device to wake me in the morning. eureka!

i now must sit in ridiculous anticipation until it arrives. as my dear little clock is coming via canadian post, i have no idea how long this will take. i'm assuming the canadian mail system is up to snuff, but hearing the phrase "canadian post" i can't help but think it's going to show up by horse sometime in '08.

**discovering that there are "surveillance" alarm clocks out there - and not just one kind. many. - has scared the hell out of me.

giving thanks.

we've had a lot of excitement this past week, but as its thanksgiving eve i figured i'd let those thrilling tales of adventure slide in favor of something more festive. so in the spirit of the holiday, the things loveandcyanide are currently thankful for (in no particular order):

• anesthesiologists
• Richard Lewis comedy specials
• father's prowess when it comes to fixing vacuum cleaners
• Tums
• living in a pet-free environment
• nana's stockpile of extra kitchen tools
• the one gray sweater we own that is family-gathering appropriate
• our neighborhood
• nurses who know how to help a pair of spastic sisters who do not know how to properly put on their hospital gowns

and last, but certainly not least, YOU! our dear readers. happy turkey day everyone.

i tried. no, seriously. i did.

in the spirit of being economical, my friend and i decided to have a "cheap night". it was wonderful...and then it backfired.

and so, i present, you know you are in no shape to take the train home by yourself when:

a. you are entirely too preoccupied with the rats running around the subway. (note: your ipod may be broken, your cell phone out-of-service at the station, and the book you're reading contains print entirely too small to see after ___ glasses of wine - so really, you have no other choice. right.)

b. you put on your glasses, so you can more closely see the subway rats.

c. when a rat climbs up a on a rail (aside: what's up with the 3rd rail? how is it electrified and "dangerous" when birds and rodents alight on it constantly?) and gets a little higher than the rest of the rats, you actually hope, no really, you hope, that he hops on the platform and runs near you so you can pet him. (note: this may perhaps signify that you are still, 7 months later, not over the death of your first pet cat, tigger, and need a furry little presence in your life. pronto.)

d. upon waiting 25 minutes and having to let two R trains pass you by - and cursing yourself that you used to live off the R train, but now insisted on moving closer to astoria's other train, the "more convenient N" - you finally step on to an N train, and you discover its heading downtown. in the complete opposite direction of your home.

and so, you find yourself climbing the subway stairs to the street to hail a cab, 40 minutes later and 1 stop further into manhattan than you started, and you realize why you spend a good 30% of your salary taking taxis home. its simply so that you make it to your 28th birthday.

dumbstruck.

things i've learned this weekend:

- missy and i can walk a dog.

- i know every single word to tears for fears "everybody wants to rule the world".

- that if a glass pepper shaker breaks due to banging it repeatedly on a tabletop, the pepper will remain in a neat conical formation on the table while the glass shards fly all about.

- because i said so is the absolute worst movie ever made. holy cow.

in waffles we trust.

since we're all in a waffletastic mood after yesterday's post, i figured i'd continue the thread. so here are some awesome factoids* about all things battered and griddled:


mark your calendars, kiddies!

International Waffle Day (March 25) -

originated in Sweden where it is called Våffeldagen. It occurs nine months to the day before Christmas - the day the Archangel Gabriel told the Virgin Mary that she was pregnant. (ed. note: really?! so waffles are some how connected to Jesus' birth? huh, i might have to stop considering myself a lapsed catholic...)

As the holiday progressed, it also began to commemorate the first day of spring. Waffles come into play because on March 25th the women of Sweden would set aside their winter tasks like chopping wood and knitting, and began their spring tasks... the most notable of which was preparing waffles.


National Waffle Day (August 24) -

is the anniversary of the first U.S. patent for a waffle iron. Cornelius Swarthout of Troy, New York received his patent for a "device to bake waffles" in 1869. His early waffle iron was used in conjunction with coal stoves, consisted of a griddle and a cover and required flipping of the device to cook both sides of the waffle. At present, National Waffle Day is at best a "bizarre" or "unique" holiday" - the fluff stuff of radio DJ commentary. Waffle promotions at some restaurant chains have helped to keep the holiday alive, if only barely. (ed. note: not anymore! loveandcyanide has found its champion cause - keep national waffle day alive)

The History of the Waffle

13th Century A.C. - Ancient Greeks cook flat cakes between two metal plates. These early waffles were called obleios and were primarily savory in nature, prepared with cheeses and herbs.

1620 - The pilgrims bring Dutch "wafles" to America.

1735 - The word "waffle" - with two "f"s - appears in English print for the first time.

Late 1800's - Thomas Jefferson returns to the U.S. from France with a long handled, patterned waffle iron. (ed. note: oh tommy, is there anything you couldn't do??)

1869 - Cornelius Swarthout patents the first U.S. Waffle Iron.

1953 - Frank Dorsa's Eggo Frozen Waffles are sold in Supermarkets for the first time.

1964-65 - Brussels restaurateur Maurice Vermersch brings his wife's Brussels Waffle recipe to the World's Fair in New York. The fluffy yeast-infused waffle becomes a huge hit and becomes known as the Belgium waffle.


*factoids courtesy of mrbreakfast.com - quite possibly my new favorite website.

oh, hello!

it was brought to my attention today that a belgian waffle (spelled the authentic way of "wafel", but as i'm only a stupid american, i can continue to spell it the waffle house way) truck is making its way around nyc. excitement!

mmm.

i do apologize that this little PSA only affects the 1/4 of our readers who are located here in the city, but i wanted to make sure that the both of you were aware of this little yellow waffle-scented gem making its way around our streets. and honestly, if i ran the world, there would be waffle trucks in every city. one for every single one of the earth's inhabitants, even.

my own brand of quality-assurance testing.

having been harassed and harassed and harassed by gigantic, noisy, gross and utterly distracting flies throughout the past few months in my office, i say with great pride that i finally got my chance at revenge today.

after a good hour or so of pestering me, the little beast du jour was taking a breather from his cacophonous flight and had perched behind me on my cork board. while typically paralyzed with fear in such a moment, today i miraculously managed to spring into action. i grabbed the largest manuscript i could find - no offense to the author, but this will actually be the greatest feat that that piece of work will ever achieve - and walloped the little pest so forcefully that pushpins went flying and the whole bulletin board almost came down. i daresay the fly blood stain will remain on my office wall for a very long time.

i spent the remainder of the afternoon with a smug little grin on my face, filled with a ridiculous amount of satisfaction. which made me wonder - if killing bugs can fill me with such a larger sense of pride than writing a press release does, should i just become an exterminator?

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and on a side note after discussing destruction, i'd just like to give a shout out to ralph lauren, for making extremely high quality eyeglasses. i full-out sat on my glasses for about the thirtieth time this morning - it really baffles me how out of every square inch of my bed my bottom consistently finds the one little patch where my glasses are laying - and nary a crack in them. and i can't count the times i've let them spend an entire day banging around in my purse without their case or knocked them off my dresser or threw something (like my cell phone, from, um, across the room) that happened to land smack on top of them and thought to myself "oh crap. that's it"...but no, they are still going strong. this is indestructible eyewear, people. i won't try dropping them from my fifth floor apartment window until i have a new pair in my possession, but i think that's what it's coming to.

i'm on all the wrong mailing lists.

when the hell did wendy's start a breakfast menu?! upon entering, i was greeted with a poster for the breakfast frescuit (literally, after pondering the origins of the word frescuit for the past half hour i just realized right this second when typing that is a hybrid of "fresh biscuit". which means its either absurdly clever, or i'm having an even slower day than i had thought...) and thought to myself "oh hey, cute, they are testing out something new." then at the counter i spied an entire breakfast menu! breakfast burritos, french toast sticks, the works! how did i miss this? the body shop clogs my inbox with paraphernalia every week when i only shop there during my twice yearly stock ups on vats of mango body butter, meanwhile i've yet to be informed of this major major development in the home of my hangover cure. sheesh.

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a random dispatch from the halloween party i attended last night - i've never been one for couples' costumes**, but i understand that there are girls (and boys) who are all into that, and so i accept that sometimes a man has just gotta dress silly to please his little lady and vice versa (and we do appreciate that). HOWEVER, i will never respect a man who dresses as mickey mouse, being pulled around by his minnie. never ever ever.


**exception: there is a bacon + egg set floating around that i would totally be a part of - of course i'd have to rock the bacon tunic - and i guess it would be preferable if a third party could dress as a frying pan and follow us around. but that's it.

holiday greetings.

since we can't offer you guys candy corn, a little homemade cyber-greeting will have to suffice! happy halloween - only eat the wrapped candies, and if trick-or-treating on staten island, please don't dress as a ninja.

note: while it looks like this scene was painstakingly set up for this meager little greeting card, don't worry - it wasn't. only the vegetables were added in for holiday spirit. the bears, their weapons, the skeletal remains and the scary tree all reside on our 'toy shelf' in our living room year round. although during the christmas season we do throw holiday baubles on the shelf to make it a tad less macabre.

back in the new york groove.

i have always been jealous of those people who don't eat when they're depressed. dieting? no, i just lost my cat. working out? me? never! but my fiancée did just leave me at the altar. these people amaze me. there is a definite difference between those who handle a tragedy with tight lipped poise and the rest of the world. i am, predictably, of the wallowing in self-pity with a bottle of kettle and a fistful of dark chocolate variety. ..and bread! and goat cheese! and put some butter on all of that and fry it, per favore.

this is neither here nor there, nor has high seas adventures been traded for self-help empowering women speeches of the oprahnian variety (never, we promise). this is just my little explanation of where i have been.

irregardless of the rumours posted here, missy has not been kidnapped by pirates, rendered computer illiterate by an unfortunate pedicab accident or tied to a chair by bear for the past year (but he HAS been hoarding a worrying amount of rope and twine). i have however noticed a pattern within myself. similar to my tendency to eat when sad, i also tend to create more. not to say that all posts on this blog have been a result of misery and sorrow, that is not the case at all. however in the past year i've settled into a pattern of work, a 9to5 routine which prior to 2007 was just the stuff nightmares and sissy's doldrum dinner stories were made of. but yes, here i am, a member of the corporate ranks --and it's not all glitter and hats like the village people made it seem.

in addition to my real life portrayal of the office (the british version, i'm sorry steve carell, you are a man of ben stiller-worthy repulsion) i have also had my first foray into the grown up world of monogamy. contrary to popular belief, i have not always considered monogamy to be a dirty word. rather, for a while, i just denied its existence. monogamy? isn't that a wood commonly used in furniture of the reddish-tinted variety?

but now here i am, a year into normalcy and it seems i've already obtained my membership to the stepford social club. not that i don't love and respect what i'm doing. and not that my life of anger and vodka and comedy was bad either. but why can't i have the puppies and the rainbows with a dirty martini straight up and some flippant remarks at the girl in the pink uggs (ed. note - really, still??) i'd like the house with the white picket fence, within which i can roll around in paint and hurl insults of Gangy-proportion at neighbors and blogosphere celebutantes alike.

i'm not really sure when i lost my edge, or if i just happened to fall over one, but i'm committed to righting that wrong. after all, no one likes a pants not paint.

xom

looking back...

i know this seems like it's just the lazy girl's method of posting, akin to me just plopping a video on a site to entertain your guys instead of using my brain to actually create new content, but i'm really just doing this to honor an amazing coincidence: in randomly clicking on my october 2006 link just before, the first item i spied was the post from October 29th, and, whoa, today is october 29th. so i just had to re-post what was happening last year at this time...


Sunday, October 29, 2006

you know.

you know you've become a nuisance to your coworkers when...

- your receptionist hands you a book on illnesses. tells you to "keep it for as long as you need it". slipped inside the book is a photocopied page of the index, with "cough - pgs. 25, 26,27,28" circled and starred.

you know you're a poor keeper of your own well-being when...

- trying to pay for items in CVS, the cashier cannot ring up the eye liner because there is no bar code. he asks you to get a new one. upon bringing him the new liner, which has a wrapper/bar code on it, the cashier scans the code while commenting "you know, you probably shouldn't buy makeup that isn't sealed. that's not really safe."

you know you've had a rough night when...

- you somehow convince yourself and the random boy buying you drinks that the bar is closing too early for new york city standards as its only 2am, when in all actuality its almost 4am and you were given an extra hour at the bar as daylight savings time ended sometime during your booze-a-thon.

and

- you also convince yourself during the cab ride home that the driver is incompetent and taking you and your friends in the wrong direction home. upon politely yet insistently shouting through the partition "excuse me sir, where are we going? we're supposed to be going downtown, and you're going uptown.", the driver points out that the street numbers are in fact going down, and inquires if you are ok.

but, you know deep down you're a good person which compensates for the rest of your nonsense when...

- you stop your car (and following traffic) in the middle of the street for a good minute or so, to allow a man to chase around the yarmulke that the wind has blown off his head.


and my, how times have changed! a new font, daylight savings time has yet to end, i stopped wearing eye liner, i don't let strange boys buy me alcohol, i pass out in cabs instead of trying to correct/confuse the driver, and i only cough in the evenings.

such progress. i can only imagine the amazing feats i will have accomplished by october 29, 2008.

why was the russian serial killer spending his trial in a glass cage, and other thursday questions...

seriously, why? that was the one part of the news story i couldn't get over. "In a glass cage to one side of the courtroom..." - like hannibal lecter? was this because he killed more than 40 people, or just generally how the russian court system works?

why do people point with their umbrellas? i almost lost an earring this morning - and i don't wear large earrings - as i passed by a man who decided to point the way downtown with his humongous golf umbrella. wasn't his finger enough?

how long do we think valentine candy can last? i came upon a laffy taffy from february in my desk drawer earlier, and am wondering if its still edible. as i'm in desperate need of sugar to lift me out of an afternoon slump, i'm thinking i will winding up consuming the candy before getting an answer.

and for goodness sakes, is this really necessary?!

dogs everywhere should revolt.

brief thoughts.

a tuesday is so, so much lovelier when you don't spend it in your office.

and my parents think i never listen to them...

if there is one thing i can count on just about every night of the week, its a phone call from my dad. generally he'll just call to say hello to his "dudes" - why a few years ago he started calling me "big dude" and missy "little dude" we will never understand - ask us what we're up to, how we're feeling, and make some small talk until one of us gets bored and rushes him off the phone or passes him off to the other one.

one of his favorite small talk topics is the news - typically a local SI story (he's a great source for ninja burglar updates) or a tale of something tragic that happened to a young woman, that way he can throw in a lesson or two about why i shouldn't get into cabs drunk or take the train alone past 9pm. i tend to tune him out during these preachy stories.

but the other night when he launched into the "did you see in the daily news..." portion of the phone conversation, he brought to my attention such a fascinating story that not only did i listen the entire time but i even found the article so i could read all about it myself.

and so we can all thank my dear old dad for this week's history lesson.

the durable mike malloy

making important discoveries for the tobacco industry.

if you eat a peanut butter cookie shortly after having a Halls cough drop ('ice blue' mint, i believe) it tastes like you've just smoked a cigarette.

which is both fascinating and a bit of a letdown, since generally i have a drink in hand when experiencing such a taste.

friday roundup: bitterness, literature, and pickup artists.

having just been condescended to in an email that went to our entire company by a dick (excuse me. but sometimes there are just no other words for a person.) manager who consistently condescends to everyone for absolutely no reason - he also spells 'cool' with a 'k', which should tell you something - i've decided i am exempt from doing work for the remainder of the day.

so here i am again. with so much to catch up on i figured it would be a good time for another installment of the good, the bad, and the ugly to sum it all up.


the good...

The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao - i know, everyone is heaping praise on this book - for goodness sakes, i even saw it in gourmet magazine - but i'm not just jumping on the bandwagon. i started reading it this week and it is damn good.

fall is finally here! - at least for today it is. how i've missed my jackets.

The Darjeeling Limited - i wasn't sure what to expect since although i really have enjoyed wes anderson's movies in the past, the most recent ones have gotten a bit too precious. but darjeeling had a lot more soul than i expected it to.

Showtime - currently responsible for about 85% of all the television we're watching.

the bad...

my computer
missy's computer
my foot
the internet situation in our apartment
the disk drive on my work computer
missy's brand new boots
the recording capability of our cable box

you know how sometimes everything breaks all at once? yup, we're in that cycle...

the ugly...

The Game:Penetrating the Secret Society of Pickup Artists - it wasn't so much that the book was ugly (although it was, bound in imitation leather to resemble a bible, making it impossible for me to covertly read it in public!) or that the content was ugly, but i just felt so incredibly sad after finishing it. not like i read the book with the goal of becoming a "master pickup artist", or that i thought i'd be able to relate to it, but i also never expected it to reveal to me such a dishearteningly scary/pathetic side to the male psyche. not all of you are like the guys featured in this book, i know, but enough of you to keep the book in the top 100 on amazon more than two years after it came out.

eek.

a puppet-filled, tofu-less bicentennial celebration...

its pouring out, i'm limping*, and i'm starving** so i decided to not post the snarky cranky post i've been working on for the past week (week!) and write about something a little more uplifting.

(plus, i just realized i had let my 200th entry slip by, and therefore needed a most upbeat topic to commemorate such a momentous occasion. its our bicentennial! and at the rate i'm currently posting, i won't hit our next one until about 2012.)

so, i saw this recently - yes, die hard. as a musical. done with puppets! - and i highly suggest that everyone run out and see it whenever (if ever) it makes it to a theater near you. it was awesome, and i've never even seen die hard*** so i probably even missed out on some of the jokes/plot line.

but you'll love it - i promise.

*somewhere between the gym and a trip to staples last night, i managed to severely injure my foot. well, maybe not severely. but i couldn't walk on it last night and couldn't wear proper shoes today as it was still swollen. i have a sneaking suspicion that an overzealous treadmill workout is the cause, although i truly hate to think that my first day in a while of an actual intense work out put me in such a sad predicament.

**i couldn't eat most of my lunch as my healthy little organic corn + black bean mexican bowl also housed a hidden mass of tofu. (i hate, HATE, tofu!!! it reminds me of some non-food item from my childhood - i'm thinking it was the mattress for one of our barbie beds.)

***yea, yea, i know. but it came out in '88 and i was still totally in muppet family christmas mode back then since our mother had a more intense ratings system than the MPAA. but i did eventually see the third one, at least.

apologies, apologies.

i know. i post "breaking news" and then i don't bother to post the update until a week later. let's pretend i'm just a master of suspense.

so lets backtrack to last thursday.

around 3:30pm - note that the dead mouse situation was reported more than 3 hours earlier. why was this not a priority?? - two maintenance workers mosey into my office with a flashlight. after a few minutes of poking around in the corner, they decide they need to move my desk (this fact comes in to play a little later) to get a better look at the corner near the radiator. desk is shoved aside, a loud noise is heard, and a few moments later one of men ask me for a plastic bag. i hand him the bag, he stands there looking at me, and this conversation ensues:

maintenance guy: do you like mice?
chrissy: huh?
m.g.: do you like mice?
chrissy: umm, no. not really.
m.g.: ok.
chrissy: why? is there a live mouse?!
m.g.: no, its dead on a trap. so i wouldn't want you to see a dead mouse if you liked mice. but you don't...(bends to pick up mouse)
chrissy: i'm just going to go wait in the hall.

they bagged the mouse and bade me farewell. after securing a scented candle - a fire hazard in an office, i know, but after spending a morning smelling rodent rot i almost wanted to cause a fire - i discovered my computer had shut down.

not only did it shut down, but the jostling from the shifting of my desk knocked it so completely out of whack that soon after maintenance left with my mouse, the IT guy left with my computer.

i am happy to report that by now everything is finally back to normal.

breaking...

remember my stories about the stink in our office's lobby due to the dead mice in the ceiling/radiator/walls? well, in the past two weeks there have been random funky smells around the office, and a few dead mice have been found in radiators in private offices.

guess who's turn it is today?!

i knew something smelled amiss/gross when i walked into my office this morning. periodically i've been walking out into the hall and stepping back in, to see if i was just being crazy - or, horror, if it was perhaps me - but no, the air in the hall smelled different. still bad, but of a different magnitude.

so overhearing two coworkers discussing a smell in our area of the floor, i bounded out of my office, thrilled that others noticed this too, and joined them in a sniffing hunt. (for someone with allergies, i think i make an excellent bloodhound)

upon entering my office, one of my coworkers confirmed my suspicion announcing, "yes. there's something dead in here."

he could've been referring to my spirit.

but more to come when the undertakers get here. oh the excitement!

getting back on track.

before i mislead anyone, i'm only currently into ninjas because i think this 'ninja burglar' story is freaking hilarious. when it comes to that age-old debate, ninja vs. pirate, i am totally, 1 million percent, on the pirate team. ninjas, i assume, must have a commitment to fitness that i just can't handle. the carousing life of a pirate is entirely more my speed.

speaking of, i even missed Talk like a Pirate Day last week! a very happy belated one to all.

so what have i been up to that i've been so neglectful of my little patch of the web? tons. missy and i threw an amazing (if we say so ourselves) apartment-warming party, managing to squeeze a record 30+ people into our new place. i discovered the power of WD-40 and eradicated the vexing three-year-old issue of having a super-squeaky bed. i celebrated my one-year anniversary at my 'new' job. i learned how not to mop a wood floor and how to infuse my own vodka. i finished watching every eddie izzard comedy special that exists on dvd. i got my bangs back. i received a bossy bear**!

and, most importantly, i had my faith in the dry cleaning industry restored, when they lost a pair of my pants - my very favorite work pants - but then found them for me a few days later, with just about every employee at the cleaners leaving me voicemails to announce that my pants were safe and sound. (and no, i'm not just copying that recent episode of curb your enthusiasm - i actually lost my pants the day before it aired. i always knew i felt a special kinship with larry david.)


**missy calls me "bossy bear". but i'm not actually bossy. i'm just doing my job as the older, wiser, sibling. really.

does the second amendment apply to nunchucks?

a ninja burglar bill! oh this story just keeps getting better and better...

http://www.nydailynews.com/news/crime_file/2007/09/24/2007-09-24_ninja_burglar_strikes_fear_in_staten_isl.html


(i know. its been ages and the first thing i come back with is a mere link?? how rotten! but i needed to report the very latest on the n.burglar, plus i'm working on a post of substance recapping the whirlwind of the past two weeks. we'll be up and running again soon, i promise, dear handful of wonderful, loyal readers.)

they say you are what you eat.

we apologize for our absence, but its been an insanely busy week over here - the highlight? an awesomely fun night of irish music in philadelphia last night. the lowlight? loveandcyanide's first trip to the gastroenterologist.

i shall spare everyone the details of the trip, but i would just like to say that i've never filled out a more invasive pre-doctor visit questionnaire in my entire life. the highlight of this lowlight, however, was hearing a fellow waiting roomer comment that his answer to the question "what color?" was "like a benjamin moore chart". i am still torturing missy with that line two days later. you know how she hates bathroom humour.

--------

so while at wendy's today - figured this was the only logical segue after talking about my visit to a stomach doctor - i realized that they have changed the look of their menu boards, and have upgraded to a faux wood finish around the menus. snazzy! i always felt wendy's was the BMW of the fast food world, and this just seals it.

does your hometown have a ninja burglar?

coming across this bit of news about our darling home borough has made my entire week.


http://www.silive.com/news/index.ssf/2007/09/his_fight_with_the_ninja_burgl.html

morning observations.

i hate carrying food onto the subway - in this particular case, a foil pan full of brownies that i made for today's office party. oh, chrissy, you domestic goddess, you! - because everyone just sits there staring at whatever wrapped item you're holding. clearly its not a suspicious package people, settle down. i decided that if anyone actually asked what was in the pan, since it seemed like it might come to that as a short man in a plaid cap sidled up into me/my brownies, i'd tell them it was my pet turtle.

------------

another thing i hate - clear bra straps. i have dear friends who swear by them, so i won't go completely off on how dumb/disgusting i think the straps are/look, but i will comment that clear does not equal invisible, ladies!! when you wear them with a tube top we can SEE THEM!! really, a tube top. holy cow, some people are stupid.

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a less hateful observation - a woman got onto the train this morning and when she turned around, i noticed that the back of her shirt read, 2007 US OPEN. HAIRSTYLIST TO THE PLAYERS. i found this curious. do the players have their hair coiffed before their games? do the stylists come around after the match to arrange their sweaty locks for post-game interviews? do all professional sports events have the luxury of hair stylists for the participants?

------------

and a final one - there was another, less curious but more entertaining, shirt of note spied during today's commute. the back of it featured two cartoon clams smiling at each other, with the line "let's shuck" printed above their shells. juvenile, sure, but i got a good chuckle out of it.

thursday shot of vitamin C.

as everyone around me has fallen ill throughout the course of the past 24 hours - friends, siblings, coworkers, friends' coworkers...i'm really not exaggerating, is there something in the air that i'm unaware of? - i think its a good time to talk about something healthy.

like fruit.

thanks to reader PH, i was introduced to a most interesting new fruit today - the plumpricot** - which is, you guessed it, the offspring of a plum + apricot. i'm a big fan of the plum, and not so much a fan of the apricot, so i figured my feelings on this new fruit would be mixed. but no - its absolutely delicious. great texture, great coloring, and great taste. nothing could ever knock the mango out of my top fruit spot, but this tasty little hybrid could possibly make my top 5 after having only one. i will be stalking the supermarkets for these little gems until they go out of season.

----------------

its ironic that as i finish this post about fruit someone near my office is eating either fried chicken or fast food, and i'm seriously thisclose to drooling due to the deep-fried scent wafting through the air. sigh. i sit so precariously close to the edge of the healthy food wagon.



**after searching online, i've found this hybrid called a plumcot, pluot, aprium, plumpricot and plumicot. i personally think that plumpricot is the most fun to say, so even if its not the most agriculturally-correct version of the word, it'll be the one i use.

update.

since my last posting elicited such a response about pennies - pennies! what will happen if i write about nickels? - on the comments page, i wanted to follow-up and let everyone know that after 3 days of lurking at the base of the porcelain bowl, my toilet penny is now gone.

so either pennies require about 95 flushes before they make it down the pipe, or someone was in desperate need of change.

bathroom talk.

when missy and i were going over our criteria for a new apt, one of my top priorities was the quality of the bathroom - more specifically, i preferred for the tub to have shower doors. why would i care? well, since the age of 10, with the exception of the college years (and i blocked those gross showers out of my memory, so they really don't count) and various stays at friend's places and hotels, i've always lived in a place with shower doors. and once you get used to shower doors - the plethora of light they allow in to the tub, the fact that they don't billow about and ensnare you in their plastic grip like curtains do - its hard to downgrade back to a curtain.

as we could barely find a apartment that had a bathroom that looked like it had been remodeled anytime in the past 50 years, "shower doors" was quickly crossed off my wish list. and although in the end we wound up in a brand spanking new place, the tub was still doorless and required a curtain.

i quickly saw the good in the situation as i spent an entire workday perusing for curtains - who knew there were so many fun ones out there?! - and when missy and i hung up our awesomely clever new one and it totally made the room, i couldn't help but think that i might actually be swayed out of the door camp.

but i haven't been.

although my adjustment to showering with a curtain is going pretty smoothly thus far, there's still one major, major bother - what i refer to as the "psycho factor". i never had to worry about someone sneaking into the bathroom and attacking me when i had clear doors to look out of. now, its all i can think about. i actually obsess over it the entire time i'm in the shower, tacking on a good minute or two to my bath time as i constantly need to peep my head around the curtain, to make sure the door is still closed and no intruder is lurking near the toilet with a machete.

i know this sounds nuts, but its not just me -- missy is having this issue as well. we discussed our dilemma the other day, and it seems like our next curtain might have to be a see-thru one.

-----------------

in further bathroom news, there has been a penny in one of our work toilets for the past two days. this doesn't necessarily bother me, as i kind of like the wishing well effect it lends to our otherwise disgusting women's bathroom, but my question is - why won't it flush down the toilet? is it a chemical thing? or did some creep glue it there?

full circle.

forgive me for being a slacker this week, its been an exceptionally busy one. its ironic that i manage to find an awesome new apartment that i just want to sit in, all the time, and then fall into an especially busy social period, so i wind up spending no time in it at all.

so, in a rather amazing coincidence, not one, but THREE things i've mentioned in recent months came back to haunt me today (and its only the early afternoon) :

1. as i walked to the train this morning, there idled a small commercial van. outside the back of the van was a cardboard box containing ice...and fish heads.

really. i couldn't make this stuff up. while wondering about the usage of cardboard and, again, conditions that i believe the USDA would not consider sanitary, i also prayed that maybe a horror movie is filming in a nearby building and that would explain all the miscellaneous early morning animal parts. if not, i might rethink all the dinnering we do in our local establishments.

2. my office mate, the mutant fly, has returned. and this time he's brought an equally monstrous friend.

i've resorted to playing music to drown out the racket they are making as they buzz through my blinds. i will also be adding "purchase massive fly swatter" to my weekend to-do list, as i just had to use Kleenex as weaponry when throwing my tissue box at the blinds. which made an even louder racket. i really am thankful for the fact that no one was passing by my office to witness my (slight) freak-out. but the flies are actually making me nuts - another hour and i see myself tearing the blinds off the windows, wildly waving files, and flinging office supplies in attempted insect murder.

3. the kicker - about an hour ago, the back of my chair fell off. the comedy gods must be off today, as i happened to be leaning forward when it happened and thereby escaped a tumble to the floor.

on a positive note, i finally figured out where that "extra" knob goes.

i'm just the yin to you noisy, nosy, yangs.

"you're so quiet"

i can't tell you how many times i've heard that line throughout my life. why, i just heard it again about 2 minutes ago, making it the catalyst for this rant.

is this an insult? i've never understood what someone is trying to insinuate when they come upon me, standing there/sitting there minding my own business, and make that comment. yes, i am pretty quiet - some people are. does my peacefulness bother you? does the fact that you can't hear my voice reverberate around the office annoy you? what exactly is the problem? if you're just trying to begin a conversation, i can think of 100 better starters than that one.

under certain circumstances i can understand being told this, but those are mainly all personal situations, where the person telling me "you're so quiet" is saying it because they want to know whats on my mind. totally acceptable, especially when the other party knows me well enough to know that only 70% of what goes on in my mind comes out of my mouth.

but i just do not at all understand being randomly told that i'm quiet by someone who doesn't really know me. it would be rude of me to comment to another "you're so noisy", wouldn't it? this is technically the same thing.

oh this irks me to no end.

i believe this model came with some spare parts...

while twirling around in my office chair earlier today, there was a clang and a knob and some washers (father is handy, or else i'd have no idea what those things are called) appeared on the floor. fearing i was about to find myself in a similar position, i got up, flipped the chair over, and attempted to reattach them.

no dice. having examined every single little inch of the base, back, and sides of this chair, it doesn't appear that this knob can be screwed back in anywhere. which is strange as it had to fall from somewhere... so i'm going to pretend that it was just an extra knob that had been taped to the bottom of the chair in case of emergencies.

--------------------

speaking of emergencies, an incident occurred yesterday morning that had me briefly considering vegetarianism. (i know...i didn't think it was possible either)

as i did my short little walk to the train i passed by some men unloading items from a truck. as i approached the truck, i noticed one man passing what appeared to be a whole, skinned, duck down to another man on the ground, who then placed it in a shopping cart. thinking i was hallucinating - wouldn't that be unsanitary? - i shifted my gaze onto the cart, and found that i was unfortunately correct. it was filled almost to the brim with duck carcasses. and, atop the ducks, a giant cow head. the cow gazed accusingly at me while i climbed the subway steps, wondering if the burger i had saturday night might be my last.

it won't be. i somehow managed to bounce back from the traumatizing 'shopping cart of horrors' experience within a few hours, and found myself cheerfully helping missy cook steaks later that evening.

but i did have a nightmare last night.

a new level of multitasking.

having already expressed our love for supermarkets many - some may say too many - times here, you are well aware of our support of the industry.

that said, i'm not quite sure how i feel about this:

check out.

a singles event at a supermarket. in one respect, i think this is sort of clever - a shopping cart full of goodies makes for an easy conversation starter. oh hey, you prefer rice pasta too?

on the other hand, i think its sort of creepy (and not just because i think all forced singles events seem sort of creepy). and really, what are they going to do about the harsh supermarket lighting?

we haven't done an animal post in awhile.

since the death of our beloved cat tigger two months ago there's been a dearth of all things cute and fuzzy in our lives. thankfully, a new season of meerkat manor (or meeeeeerkat manor, as i so like to whiningly say) is starting up this week, so cute/fuzziness will be restored.

-----------

so at our rather raucous family gathering this weekend we were treated to two very different, yet equally ridiculous, animal stories from family members.

first up was the tale of the seagull - "the little bastard", as my mother called him - who menaced my parents for their funnel cake on their recent weekend down the shore. inching closer and closer as they ate on a bench, the "brazen" seagull infuriated my mother so much that she threw her napkin at him in an attempt to distract him from his cakey target. unfortunately, the tossing of the napkin prompted a seagull swarm, and my parents were chased from their bench by about 20 seagulls diving down to see what had been thrown at their leader. and my dad wonders why missy and i prefer to vacation without them.

never one to be topped, my aunt launched into her recent encounter with a garden snake - an encounter that included screaming, a 10-minute weed killer shower for said snake, the apparent death of snake, joyous celebration by aunt, and then the subsequent discovery that snake had disappeared, meaning she either vaporized it with the weed killer, or, most likely, simply maced the thing into a temporary stupor.

its really no wonder i can't handle killing a giant fly when i see how poorly my relatives react when put in man-vs-beast situations.

mr. met might have a harder time stalking me now that i've changed my address.

well, mr. met isn't personally stalking me (i wish! i would love to see that giant baseball head ducking into bushes and behind cars as he followed me home), but his organization is.

for the past few weeks i've received a 'courtesy call' on my cell about every 3 days from the mets. why?? i think i've purchased mets tickets maybe once in my life, and i know that i didn't give them my cell phone number. whenever missy and i have to give out numbers, we offer up our parent's. hee.

-------------

so besides the MLB harassing me, all has been going excellently - most especially, the move, and the new apartment. i know we were complaining, and everyone complains, about how hard it is to move - but we were never informed about how glorious it is to actually use movers. to stand around idly while your stuff magically gets from one place to another. in our valid attempts to help them - having grown up with our mother, its impossible for us to feel anything but guilty as we stand by and watch others do things without pitching in - the guys actually took items from our hands and carried them out themselves. of course this could've been because the moment i picked up our decorative metal wheel i managed to knock it on the floor, where it made a deafening clang in the near-empty room, but nevertheless, it was absolutely amazing how efficient these guys were.

missy even commented that she intends to hire movers to get her kids to and fro college. which, if they have even half the amount of crap she and i managed to cram into our dorm rooms, isn't really as outlandish as it may sound.

is shoe-free the way to be?

so i know i was bitching last week about the barefoot old woman on the bus, and we all basically decided that she was just a crazy old bird that i shouldn't concern myself with, as it wasn't my feet touching the dirty bus floor.

well, now its more than that. its no longer just one batty old woman...its a whole epidemic of shoeless people running around NYC.

yesterday i was on the circle line for our office's "summer outing" and i spied a young woman walking around barefoot. ok, so we were on a boat. but it wasn't a private yacht, it was a tourist mecca that i am certain has seen the soles of thousands of passengers tramp across its floors.

then just before as i was walking to the deli to pick up lunch i passed a boy wheeling his scooter down the block while wearing only white socks. i did a full examination of his entire person and there wasn't a pair of sneakers in sight.

seriously, did i miss some memo that the streets of new york are suddenly super clean?

the great ______ caper.

the _____ in our headline is for our last name, which, to protect the innocent, we don't use here at loveandcyanide. if you do happen to know it - i believe 3 of our approx. 7 readers do - feel free to insert it in the blank when reading it throughout this post. if you don't know it, just use some other two-syllable word. we suggest muppet since "the great muppet caper" is a fantastic movie (and our favorite charles grodin film).

the great _____ caper occurred last night around 9:30pm. slightly delirious from a long day of work and packing, missy decided to clean out the pantry and discard any and all old food items (the winner of the Ms. Expired pageant, a rather close race between a bag of rice, boxed mashed potatoes and a few packages of jello, went to the packet of pistachio jello, dated 6/05). in retrospect, this was entirely too arduous of a task for this time of the evening, being in our current state of affairs.

so i had a bad feeling when missy squealed with excitement over discovering an unopened - and still edible - jar of capers in the pantry, and i therefore wasn't all too surprised when a few minutes later i heard the melodious tinkle of glass hitting the kitchen floor. ordered to put on shoes, i arrived in the kitchen to a salty stink, and saw the little green guys rolling all over our floor amongst shards of glass. shoeless missy stood in the midst of it looking forlorn, and it took a good two minutes for us to decide exactly what our plan our action would be. i believe someone suggested just leaving it on the floor for the new people.

a short while later the mess was (mostly) taken care of, the kitchen only smelled slightly briny, and as we skated back and forth on paper towels drying the floor, we had a good chuckle over our tuesday evening 'caper'.

which was slightly messier but certainly less serious than our monday evening caper, which involved the unplugging of our nintendo and the subsequent destruction of our satellite tv service. we have no idea what missy did with the wires, but it is now impossible to hook everything back up. and so we're tv-less.

lesson learned this week: do not turn back on sister during packing.

revisiting first crushes.

i try not to get suckered into reality series, but a new one started up that i'm finding impossible to resist -- scott baio is 45...and single.

scott baio was my very first celebrity crush. according to various family members, i was completely obsessed with the show joanie loves chachi - well, i guess as obsessed as a 2-3 year old could be with something she clearly could not at all understand - and when people used to ask me who my boyfriend was, i used to answer, "chachi!". i wonder if my parents found this adorably precocious or just plain frightening.

so they nicknamed me 'joanie' for awhile, and although i don't completely remember watching the show or the feelings of chachi love i apparently held in my itty-bitty heart, i can vividly recall the old ladies who used to frequent my family's grocery store calling me joanie whenever they came shopping. so apparently most of brooklyn was aware of my crush.

but regardless of these nostalgic reasons, it's actually a pretty compelling show and mr. baio makes for a rather sympathetic almost ex-womanizer as his life-coach helps him along. AND, and, the kicker is one of his best buds and the producer of the show is...jason hervey! older brother from the wonder years and another former celeb crush of mine. i know, i know - why did i like the chubby asshole brother while everyone else liked adorable little kevin arnold?

perhaps scott baio isn't the only one in need of a life-coach.

moving is tough.

last week's excitement over discovering an awesome new apartment has waned the past few days. while the packing part of the process is a little less stressful than the initial hunting part, i wouldn't call wrangling three year's worth of stuff into bags and boxes easy. or fun.

so while we declined plans with friends all week in favor of packing, there is nary a filled box in site. instead we've managed to:

• update Bear's myspace page
• get drunk
• make ice cream sandwiches
• watch Beerfest
  

we will clearly do anything to avoid packing.

---------------

so in an earlier post i mentioned about the plethora of shady real estate agents we dealt with. seriously, i had no idea what i was in for as my last apt was by owner. not like he was a prize - more like a pervert and racist - but at least we didn't have to fork over 1 month's rent to him.

but in the past few weeks we've come to meet a variety of evil agents - liars, cheats, scoundrels. how do these people sleep at night? (with the exception of the kindly greek santa claus-like broker who we would've been happy to give business to. we're sorry we just didn't like anything you showed us, manny!) i understand they're just trying to make a buck, but really, there has to be more ethical ways to go about it. missy and i came home practically in tears some nights.

thankfully the broker attached to our dream apartment turned out to be a reputable guy. he also knew the right things to say, as after showing us the apartment and giving us an application he said, "and thank you girls for the entertainment".

we're thinking that's what catapulted our application above the rest. thank goodness for our shtick.

ick.

dear older woman in yellow sundress on the bus this morning,

i understand it was raining - no, POURING - earlier today and that wet shoes can feel really really really gross on one's feet. trust me, it's over an hour after i came in from the rain and i am still completely regretting wearing open-toe flats...

but did you have to take the city bus BAREFOOT????? the sight of your bare feet squishing on the presumably filthy bus floor almost made me lose my breakfast.

please invest in galoshes.

your concerned fellow commuter,
chrissy

movin' on up.

it's been a crazy/awesome week for us, mainly because loveandcyanide has found new headquarters! after a grueling hunt for a new apartment - more on the search and the plethora of shady real estate agents that exist in astoria to come - we found a new place. a new and improved place that completely fulfilled our #1 new apartment request, which was to move closer to the train.

never ones to settle for half-asseyness, we will now be living in spitting distance from the train. seriously. Bear can sit on our balcony and heckle commuters as they pass. if you took a running leap out of our windows you would actually land on train tracks. we may have taken our wish to the extreme.

but while we do realize we might need to invest in earplugs and probably wear more than underwear when prancing about the apartment near the windows, we're still excited as hell.

hot. hot. hot.

we're back, and in high spirits over here at loveandcyanide. having spent the past 8 days in basically perfect summer weather doing nothing more than sunning on the beach and having fun with friends, how can we not be?

the massive fly is also gone from my office.

so being on vacation high myself, i've taken notice of those who are vacationing in my hot humid disgusting fair city today. they all look miserable -- i didn't see one happy vacation face roasting atop the big red bus. and as i passed one guy i heard him sorrowfully comment to his companion "it stinks like urine here".

my question is, what would possess someone to come to new york in the middle of the summer? i'm curious to see if guidebooks suggest against it and mobs of people just don't heed the suggestion, or if maybe the guidebook industry is in a conspiracy against summer tourists and therefore encourage them to come here when its gross.