goodbye panic!, hello sasquatch!

this week i was moved into my own office - a christmas miracle! - so i will no longer be tortured by panic! at the disco and their ilk.

along with your standard office perks like a door, giant window, and heating/cooling capabilities, i also received a few special bonuses from the guy who occupied this space before me:

a half-eaten box of cereal. (and we wonder why we have mutant roaches?)
a gray H&M scarf.
a book about scrabble. (score!)
3 jars of rubber cement.
a pile of magazine cutouts of pictures of madonna.
an issue of W magazine with madonna on the cover.
a pin that says "i am loved".

i'm keeping the scrabble book and the pin.

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

speaking of keepers, missy and i hit the gift-giving all-star list this year with our present to our uncle (see: fireman of monstrous proportions) - a sasquatch doll. the fuzzy brown flocked vinyl little guy has movable arms and comes wielding a chainsaw. we haven't seen our family this collectively excited over a present since our nana decorated our barbie dream house with garland. the little guy was a huge hit. within minutes after opening, squatch was named benjamin, posed for pictures, and was made an aluminum foil axe.

running a close second in the present popularity contest was nana's new deli slicer - a giant, gleaming machine that prompted our mother to have a fit of hysterics as she envisioned her mother and sister making hundreds of turkey sandwiches and selling them outside their driveway to passing motorists.

loveandcyanide wouldn't trade their family for the world.

a far cry from a membership to the jelly of the month club.

i really can't get over the whole story about the Goldman Sacks guy who is receiving a $53 million bonus. that means he made more than 900X more than me this year. not kidding - i know i sometimes (basically always) exaggerate numbers (simply for kicks, not for harm. all in good fun, kids.), but i actually took out the calculator for this one.

do we really think he did more than 900X the amount of work that i did? the poor man won't have any time left to actually play with all those millions...

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

in other mindboggling news comes my new favorite story:

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/16298548/

if i myself ever spawn, i'm definitely teaching the kids that the miracle of christmas had to do with the virgin dragon and the reptilian nativity.

my fave quote of the article:“Komodo dragons seem to be able to switch ways of reproducing to deal with a shortage of suitable boyfriends."

if only it were that easy!!

must be the season.

tomorrow is my first official 'corporate-y' christmas party. i'm not quite sure what to expect, but i think i'll sort of feel like a failure if some middle-aged manager from another dept doesn't drunkenly hit on me.

which would be a far cry from my actual department's christmas party, which involved a game of pictionary (new fave boardgame obsession, sorry scrabble) and an awards ceremony, at which, as predicted, i did in fact receive an illness-related award. oh i did - that's what three months of being the cough monster will get ya. i am now officially the office sick girl, and have a light green piece of computer paper to prove it. it's all global warming's fault (who has allergies in december?! the pollen should be frozen by now!), so i'm not too embarrassed.

shockingly, i believe i was actually only the bronze medalist for the sorriest award, as the "future cat lady award" (self explanatory) and "food stamp award" (for the girl who goes out on so many dates she never has to pay for her own dinners), in my opinion, are way way worse.

headline du jour.

today's favourite:

World's Tallest Man Saves Two Dolphins


don't you totally picture him plucking them down from a tree?

safety first!

34th street is usually a pretty horrible stretch of the city but during the christmas season it becomes absolutely unbearable. i typically try to avoid it at all cost, but since i am my father's personal shopper a wonderful daughter i had to pay good old macy's a visit this evening. so i put on a brave face, called to mind as much as i could remember from my sophomore year buddhism class, and set off downtown.

while experiencing everything i was expecting from a trip to herald square - mobs of people walking at a snail's pace, copious amounts of camera flash, a near accident with a stroller, a feeling of general hatred towards the human race - i also learned something new. macy's must be solely responsible for the drop in unemployment.

why? because at every escalator on every single floor stood an employee chanting some variation of "welcome to macy's. watch your step. please hold onto the handrails." considering the number of escalators and floors in the rather large department store, that's an awful lot of people just standing around explaining to customers how to stand on an escalator.

another day, another peanut related disappointment.

so maybe i was asking too much last night when i wanted the reese's peanut butter cup cupcake to taste exactly like a reese's.

but this afternoon i went into my favorite weekday deli with few expectations. i was in the mood for peanut butter on a bagel, nothing more. i've gotten it there numerous times before and the deli guy has always done an excellent job with this simplistic-yet-satisfying lunch.

i get back to my office and bite into my bagel and feel something crunch. oh no, i think. don't tell me...oh please let that have been a burned part of the bagel. or someone's tooth. i open the bagel....

and there was crunchy peanut butter spread all about. bleh! i HATE crunchy/chunky peanut butter.

mr. peanut, why has thou forsaken me?

crummy.

Dear Crumbs,

first off, i would like to congratulate you on your business expansion. i'm certain your upper west side bakeshop must have been doing well for you to be able to open a 'flagship' crumbs store down in the village.

however, i believe if you would like to keep your current customer base, as well as gain new ones, there are a few things that you should cease doing:

1. promising free cupcakes, but then running out of free cupcakes hours before closing time and telling customers they could 'try coming back tomorrow'.

2. using plain unsalted peanut bits in your reese's peanut butter cup cupcake. reese's has nothing to do with real healthy peanut pieces, and that's what we love about it. if your cupcake is going to take reese's good name, it shouldn't deviate from its fake peanutty-ness.

3. touting your "twinkie cupcake" that supposedly tastes just like a twinkie, but then not having them in stock and having your staff act as though we are crazy for even asking for them.

4. opening your store when your seating area is not yet finished. we understand it was your first day, but there could have been a tad bit more preparation to ensure that your customers didnt have to eat their cupcakes over the garbage pails, on the ledge that held the napkin dispenser.

all best,
chrissy

self analysis through fashion.

i've always had a penchant for making things difficult for myself. its like my brain completely disregards whatever the easy option is, and launches full throttle into the other one. i'll be going about things, anything - basic functions, routes, habits, relationships - and then try a new variation on it or see someone doing it in a different manner and suddenly have this smack-my-forehead-duh!-moment where i realize that i could have been saving myself hours/gray hairs. like when i learned how to more effectively dispose of soup.

so i now realize that this habit of mine transcends into my closet. i am a huge fan of big bottomed pants. as soon as those horrible tapered pants of my 80s childhood were behind me, my jeans swiftly evolved from bootcut to flares to the ones with 26-inch bases that drag about the floor like a train behind me. what i never before thought about though, was how much extra work these sort of pants really are.

my current faves - i have two pairs, as the first was ripped when my heel got tangled up in them and i tripped on 27th street and face-planted onto the sidewalk on my way to a rangers game, where i showed up bloody and crying, while missy and father laughed at me. one would think that had been my pants epiphany moment - are lovingly referred to as my "streetsweepers" as they are singlehandedly responsible for keeping the concrete of two cities (and the floors of numerous apartments and homes) free of debris. i know the bottoms of them are filthy, and they are almost impossible to wear in the rain, but i never really minded all that much.

until today. at some point between my car and the prescription counter of CVS the bottom of my pants became entangled in this giant blue piece of gum. a serious wad - i'd say it was at least 4 sticks of trident or 2 pieces of bubble yum. having been caught in the ripped off hem of my jeans, the wad apparently swished back and forth while i was walking, getting stuck against other parts of the hem as well as my sneaker and when i finally realized i was sticking to CVS' industrial grade carpet, there was quite a sticky mess going on. upon purchasing a scissor and spending a good few minutes in the parking lot cutting the gummy part of the jeans off, i realized that wearing clothing should not take this much effort. if it did, there'd be a lot more nudists.

this of course does not at all mean that i've learned my lesson for good -- my beloved streetsweepers, though slightly shorter on the left leg, will not be retired anytime soon - but i have found a new appreciation for the skinny jeans i was forced to buy. so at least for one day i will take the easy road - tomorrow i'm tucking a pair of them into boots and will boldly stomp down the sidewalk, discarded wads of gum be damned.

"I think that the seal with the yellow bow tie might be the one that I released into the sea after giving it the taste for mammal blood."

perhaps if more people had tuned into Arrested Development we could have avoided such tragedies.

http://abcnews.go.com/Technology/wireStory?id=2684918&technology=true

nautical nonsense (on land).

Solidifying my descent into oldladyhood, I now basically only take the local bus to and fro work. Although this method is sometimes slower than the subway, it is both closer to my apartment and a lot more scenic. The main street that the bus takes is a hotbed of activity, so I always have something interesting to watch. Hoards of teens acting like imbeciles on the sidewalk. The flashing lights of the fifty 99 cents stores that are lined up next to each other (shouldn't one of them drop to 98 cents to blow away the rest of the competition?). This extremely odd restaurant/bar/bakery that has chairs and baskets hanging from its awning and a pirate statue standing guard out front.

But during one ride home I happened to find something tiny that completely topped all the rest of this hoopla. I happened to be gazing out the bus window into a clothing store and saw a familiar flash of yellow. Is that Spongebob Squarepants? I asked myself. Nah. What would spongebob be doing in a men’s clothing store? I looked closer, and indeed – there was the porous little creature, emblazoned on a blue button-down fleece.

Now don’t get me wrong – I was a big fan of SBSP (nickname basis with him, that’s right) back in college. The krabby patties, his pet snail, Gary, who meowed like a cat, the little whiney sound SBSP’s nose made while he slept– I loved it all. Granted I was drunk/hungover most of the time during the viewing marathons my roommate and I had, but it was highly highly entertaining stuff, and if I were a parent right now (big laugh) I’d certainly encourage my kids to watch the show (and the movie, since kids can never be too young to start up their appreciation for David Hasselhoff) and have my husband dress up as Spongebob for their birthday parties.

But back to the point. A Spongebob fleece in a men’s clothing store. And not just any men’s clothing store – one that is also home to a leather Scarface jacket and a neon pink Baby Phat sign. What on earth is it doing there? and in the front window, on a mannequin, no less.

In the days since my first sighting, they have moved the fleece from the mannequin to a different, less prominent, part of the display - my guess is the rapid decline down the street cred ladder that SBSP could be causing - but I am still absolutely transfixed with the damn thing. The store has a help wanted sign in its window, and i just might have to take a second job just so i can see who purchases this crazy fleece. stay tuned.

"look ma, i'm a video ho."

for awhile now friends have been telling us to catch "pants off dance off" on Fuse, never exactly explaining what it was all about, just saying that we would enjoy it since it was all about dancing with pants off (something that guests must be willing to do when attending a party at loveandcyanide's place).

NO ONE INFORMED US OF THE LEVEL OF SHEER JOYOUS LUNACY OF THIS SHOW.

people, we would have tuned in months ago had you told us that this wasn't just a club full of music video extras grooving about in hot pants (which is what i was expecting). its people-who-shouldnt-be-stripping stripping/dancing to ridiculous music. some of these people are in mascot costumes, like Benny the Whale, who stripped down to his fuzzy blue gills to the milkshake song. some wear sparkly silver tights - bizarrely with socks underneath - that they can barely get out of, while revealing that they'd like to be madonna's pool boy as they "like pools and like to clean." the contestants also heckle each other's looks and moves.

and, AND

this is all hosted by jodie sweetin. yes, ex-meth addict stephanie tanner is there, making snarky comments about the half-naked dancers . oh wait, i'm sorry - they are called pancers.

such entertainment.

starchy.

so we got a new temporary boy roommate this past weekend, and as he makes his "bed" (the couch) in the mornings he's definitely the best we've had thus far.

as he's neat and clean and stuff, he inquired about whether or not we had spray starch, to which i replied that i was pretty sure we did, as i vividly visualized this blue canister of it somewhere in my apartment.

a hunt ensued, and 10 fruitless minutes later i was staring quizzically at a can of oven cleaner and he was heading out to c-town to purchase some starch so his work clothes would look presentable (unlike mine and missy's).

upon his arrival home, we discovered something amazing that completely explained all the confusion --

Easy-On is a spray starch in a medium blue cylindrical canister.
Easy-Off is an over cleaner in a medium blue cylindrical canister.

what havoc that minor difference must cause. thank goodness i figured this out before my middle-age housewifing years.

you know you're at a frat boy bar when...

there is a talking Scarface poster in the bathroom.

giant WHY of the day.

O.J. Simpson's "if i did it" campaign.

i cannot for the life of me comprehend the point of this.

doesn't this man have a publicist? and if so, how are they allowing such madness?

public service announcement.

i had a longer post planned - half drafted even - but my mind/fingers aren't up to finishing it at the moment, so i'm just leaving you kids with a little nugget of FYI for the evening --

sometimes when you hear all this clanging outside and you're convinced, absolutely convinced, that it's someone coming up the fire escape to infiltrate your apartment and chop up you, your little sister, and her dirty stuffed polar bear, it turns out to be nothing more than a man pushing a shopping cart full of empties down your street.

amazing how those two things can sound so similar.

(i know, we really shouldn't be allowed to watch Dexter right before bed).

business etiquette for the 'true life: i'm a staten island girl' set.

so i'm in this meeting the other day, and when greeting one of the clients and shaking her hand, her fake nail tip comes off in the palm of my hand.

as i pull my hand away and out of the shake, said nail tip falls onto the conference table - with a deafening roar, i may add - and we both stare at it, as the pale polished bit of acrylic glowed accusatorially at me against the dark wood of the table. i mumbled a "sorry" and she snatched the tip up and put it in her bag.

while at first mortified, i then realized i had no business being embarrassed - at least my hands are keeping it real.

i'll just save the embarrassment for when my company loses her business due to this little mishap.

"welcome to the northeast. have a mallomar."

i totally didn't give mallomars the respect they deserved as a child. i took them for granted since there was almost always a box of them residing in our cabinets. by about age 10 i grew tired of seeing that garish yellow box, got disgruntled with the fact they were dark chocolate coated, and started boycotting them, all the while wishing my mother would go buy some new exciting cookie, like those chips ahoy with the m&m's in them.

so when we recently read a fascinating article about mallomars in New York Magazine (which actually sounded a lot like the wikipedia entry for them. are there any true journalists left out there?), about how rare and special they are, i felt a tad bit guilty about my years of boycotting the 'mar and have since given them another chance. it was a wise decision.

for more information on this v. special cookie - so special, in fact, that they aren't covered in chocolate they're enrobed in chocolate.

fancy.

because one chickenbone story per week is never enough.

i know. you're wondering how in a mere 4-day span a person manages to have two stories starring a chickenbone. keep in mind i'm currently chrissy the vermin magnet - it only makes sense that such food waste finds its way around me.

so i believe i've complained about this in the past, but i just do NOT understand what compels some people to carry the food they do onto buses. and i'm not talking city buses, where the door opens every few minutes so the smell of the offending food source has the opportunity to waft outside - no, i'm talking about inter-city buses, where patrons are trapped in the airless vehicles for hours on end. where there's little to no personal space and therefore using a fork should seem out of the question.

but no. defying all laws of common sense, i've seen the most difficult to eat, stankiest food stuff brought on to these buses during my rides. this past weekend was the kicker. a group of women come parading onto the bus with paper holders full of...fried chicken. who eats fried chicken on a bus?!?!

the grease. the bones. so the ladies are munching away on their birds, and as one of them shifts, i see her little cardboard container tip to the side. a moment later a drumstick tumbles out and into the bus aisle. of course the woman is oblivious, and the leg rested there for a good 8 minutes while i glared at it in disgust. finally, her friend noticed and she leaned into the aisle and picked it up.

i truly just do not understand why someone would think that eating chicken on a bus is a good idea. do they not realize that there is reasoning behind the invention of snack packs and travel mugs?

thinking my true calling may be as an exterminator.

i swear to you dear readers that i am a clean and tidy girl. why i have suddenly found myself in a cycle where i see some form of vermin on a daily basis is beyond me. on a positive note, all these experiences with the more disgusting little creatures that inhabit the earth are making me a much stronger person.

so we all remember my run-in with that mutant roach about 2 weeks ago - that i suppose started this cycle, and thankfully, while some of the vermin-centric events of the weekend were mildly scarring, none were on the level of the incident with that super bug from outer space. i've come a long way since then.

on thurs, missy and i had the pleasure of witnessing a rat duel on the subway tracks. while chatting and waiting for the train, we saw a rat scurry by with something in his mouth, which we figured out was a chickenbone (at least we hope it was). thinking that it was kind of cute to see how it was dinnertime for all of nyc's residents both large and small, we resumed our conversation. suddenly we see another rat pounce on the first one, and go for the bone. rodentlike squeals ensued, little furs went flying, and the two rats were rolling around on the floor clawing each other for this meager bit of chicken carcass. the entire platform of people were enraptured in the battle, necks craning over the ledge to see which rat would lose an eye. who won? we'll never know, as the C train pulled in and we were off to enjoy our dinner (neither of us ordered poultry).

next morning, i arrive in my office, excited that its friday, excited to be leaving town for the weekend, excited for my cup of english breakfast tea since it was freezing out and i was of course dressed inappropriately for not one, but two cities. just as i was about to go to the kitchen to make my tea, a yelp is heard from that direction, and one of my coworkers comes quickly striding by reporting "there's a mouse chilling in the kitchen". and indeed there was - sitting near a tray of (wrapped) halloween candy on the counter near our coffee machine was a little gray mouse. just sitting there. staring at everyone who walked in, as though he though he waiting for you to ask him to pour you a cup. had this been a cartoon, and not, you know, real life, i would have thought it was all shades of adorable. but mice, along with mutant roaches, most definitely do not belong in one's workspace, and so i was disgusted and horrified, and even after the little guy was disposed of, i refused to go in the kitchen and make my tea. shudder. i hope no one minds when i start wearing a biohazard suit to work everyday.

finally, as i was about to hop into the shower on sunday, i notice something move out of the corner of my eye on the bathroom windowsill. had it been 2 months ago, i would have blamed this on the previous night's wine-filled revelry, but now i know better. there was something else in this bathroom besides me. a moment later i see a rather large waterbug come crawling down the bottle of bathroom cleaner (oh irony) that was on the sill. while my immediate reaction was to shout to the more courageous and strong male in the other room to come kill it, i also heard the voice of the new, braver chrissy saying, "come on, you can kill this thing yourself." and dammit, i did.

amazing, that just a mere two weeks ago i couldn't manage to stomp on a roach in an elevator, and now i could be naked in a bathroom with a waterbug about 10 inches away at eye level and find the power within myself to beat it senseless with a magazine.

What not to wear:

Scene: Cold/rainy/windy morning outside a building located on the Hudson River.

Outfit: Silk pleated above-the-knee dress.



Outcome: DISASTER!!!