I've been reading Brick Lane by Monica Ali for what feels like eternity. I had requested it from the NYPL and eagerly awaited its arrival. I started reading it and didn't quickly dive in. I like it but I don't loooove it. But then one day after starting it I made the mistake of looking at the New Arrivals shelf and spotted Claude & Camille which is a novel based on Claude Monet and his longtime model/lover/wife.
Because it was considered "new" (some of their new books are actually old news) I'm not allowed to renew it (I think) and it has a shorter lending period so I put aside Brick Lane and dove into the Claude & Camille which was easy because I did really like it.
But then I was done and it was time to finish Brick Lane which was starting to grow on me. I wanted to finish it so I could pick up my new book just in time for our little trip to Philadelphia (we're dying to get out of the city so we end up going to another city...all the beaches are too far away and expensive) So here I am on a lazy President's Day reading, reading, reading away. Something happens and the story gets a little more interesting and I'm thinking "Wow, I'm near the end...what a peculiar way to end the story." Reading, reading, reading and then I get to the end and realize that a giant chunk of the novel is missing. W-T-F.
I was so annoyed. I was annoyed that I won't be able to scratch it off my list. I was annoyed for the last however many persons used the book and failed to alert the library they returned it to that a chunk of the book was missing. I mean...the only excuse really is that you're the one who was in possession of the book when the pages fell out and now you're afraid that you'll be responsible for paying for it. Which is still just crap. These books get handled by so many people I'm sure you wouldn't have to pay for it.
Anyway, the guy who checks out my books most of the time is this very friendly, puppy dog, kinda guy (there's one cantankerous grumpster I try to avoid) and I told him and he had a deep sigh and shook his head. He signed me up to get the book again and so now I wait...
Meanwhile, I'm reading Ken Follett's The Pillars of the Earth which apparently is a ginormous bestseller and is getting refreshed attention because they made a miniseries out of it. (AKA That's how I heard of it, though I've not seen the miniseries)
Also, I now am the new owner of a nook, Barnes & Noble's e-reader so I will be adding a feature to the side bar. I'll have my standard Reading Right Now but I'll also have a Reading on nook. Not that this changes anything for you, dear blog reader. You'll still poop and pee and move on with your life. But...just so you know. However, in the future when more of us have nooks we can share books with each other. Apparently you can "lend" a book to a person one time for 14 days. So...one day it may happen.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Monday, February 21, 2011
A Small McProblem
This is an embarrassing tale. They say the first step in recovering from an addiction is to admit that you have one.
My name is Jamie and I am a Mc-aholic.
I am addicted to McDonald's. It's true. My addiction has been under control for a few years now but every once in awhile I slip up. I have a little bit. It silences the voices in my head asking for it. But then I drown in guilt.
Well I write this post because I've been scared straight. Well...maybe straighter. A few weeks ago Mark was out all day and I had had a great 'eating' day. No snacks, regular meals, a really good workout. But then here it was, dinner time, nothing at home and so I went in and bought some food. I ate it at home and within seconds I was sick as a dog. I felt lethargic. I felt my heart slowing. I was sweaty. I was so mad and disgusted at myself that I somehow managed to get off the couch and went back to the gym.
I went back at 9pm because I was so pissed that I had eaten so much fat and calories. Of course it was a mediocre cardio session as my body was riddled with McPoison. I would say that the only good that comes out of that experience was that I was so aware of my body's reaction that I'll run the other way when the golden light beckons me.
My name is Jamie and I am a Mc-aholic.
I am addicted to McDonald's. It's true. My addiction has been under control for a few years now but every once in awhile I slip up. I have a little bit. It silences the voices in my head asking for it. But then I drown in guilt.
If you knew me in my youth (ah...youth) you would know that I didn't grow up in an organic-vegetable, dinner around the table kind of home. We ate rice and beans and meat. And takeout. Lots of takeout which is normal in NYC, the land of Chinese take-out and pizza shops. Throw in a low-income neighborhood (you know, before Inwood was getting blurbs in New York magazine and yoga studios) with fast-food restaurants and not one but two McDonald's and you become a member of childhood obesity before people are even talking about childhood obesity.
Then there is the summer of my 13th year. I had my first summer job with childhood friends and we spent every, yes, every evening dining away at McDonald's. Instead of going out and drinking and smoking weed my friends and I found our kicks seeing who could eat the most chicken nuggets in a 20 nugget container. I kid you not. Oh...here is a picture of me from that year at school:
Anyway, in college I realized that this stuff is evil and guys won't make out with you if you're a beast (at least in my personal experience) and I actually did enjoy the feeling of a good workout so I slowly lost 40 pounds. I still have really poor habits when eating. Fresh veggies just don't exist. Not that I don't like them, I just don't make them. And weight is a constant battle.
But I am an addict. Sometimes I just need some special sauce. Or a fry. And I do it in secret. Or I did before this post. I would wait until Mark was not home and eat my snack. Possibly even throw the paper out in a separate garbage can instead of our kitchen. Yes, I know this screams SICKNESS. Actually while reading Kathy Griffin's book she describes doing the same thing and it made me feel better.
Well I write this post because I've been scared straight. Well...maybe straighter. A few weeks ago Mark was out all day and I had had a great 'eating' day. No snacks, regular meals, a really good workout. But then here it was, dinner time, nothing at home and so I went in and bought some food. I ate it at home and within seconds I was sick as a dog. I felt lethargic. I felt my heart slowing. I was sweaty. I was so mad and disgusted at myself that I somehow managed to get off the couch and went back to the gym.
I went back at 9pm because I was so pissed that I had eaten so much fat and calories. Of course it was a mediocre cardio session as my body was riddled with McPoison. I would say that the only good that comes out of that experience was that I was so aware of my body's reaction that I'll run the other way when the golden light beckons me.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Nerds Drink Lattes
**
Nerd Alert: I went to the gym this evening and the girl next to me was reading a book. I was able to squint enough to see that it was The Pillars of the Earth by Ken Follett which was just requested from the library. She looked nerdy enough (i.e. just like me) that I figured I could start a small interaction. I asked her if she was enjoying it and she said "Oh man, it's soooo good."
Now I'm really excited.
**
Mark didn't think this was a funny thought but I was walking to the grocery store the other day and then it just sort of hit me (strangely enough I was walking down Seaman Avenue) Whose idea was it to perform the first circumcision? I mean...hygiene, no hygiene, that takes a lot of guts and trust, no?
Hey...I've got this skin here attached to a part of me that appears to be extremely sensitive. I'm thinking I should just slice it off. You want to go next? No...better yet...let's do it to a baby.
**
I'm now the new owner of an espresso machine. I babysit for a woman who gets TONS of free shit and while she 'pays it forward' a lot of the time it's mostly candles and trinkets.(don't get me wrong, my hoarding tendencies love candles and trinkets) There have been some great things: Jessica Simpson jeans and a fun purse (which all ended up belonging to my sister) she recently gave me a slip of paper from KRUPS. All I had to do was put my mailing address on it, stick it in an envelope, and send it on it's merry way. Three weeks later a brand new espresso machine was sitting on my kitchen counter. I had more lattes this past weekend than I've probably had in a year. And it was awesome....
**
Nerd Alert: Mark has become super active in the education world as he tries to develop a career out of teaching experience. He was a member of the VIVA project New York Task Force and got to go to Albany to present the work to the NY Senior Deputy Commissioner of Education. He's also starting a website which will help teachers help each other build curriculum. I think. Anyway, if you read this and you're a teacher in NY visit these sites. The Opendoor site is still in it's infancy stage but if you're interested in learning more feel free to contact Mark through the site. He eats this shit for breakfast. And lunch. And dinner. I'm not allowed to talk to him. But sometimes I squeeze his shoulders as he's hunched over the laptop.
Nerd Alert: I went to the gym this evening and the girl next to me was reading a book. I was able to squint enough to see that it was The Pillars of the Earth by Ken Follett which was just requested from the library. She looked nerdy enough (i.e. just like me) that I figured I could start a small interaction. I asked her if she was enjoying it and she said "Oh man, it's soooo good."
Now I'm really excited.
**
Mark didn't think this was a funny thought but I was walking to the grocery store the other day and then it just sort of hit me (strangely enough I was walking down Seaman Avenue) Whose idea was it to perform the first circumcision? I mean...hygiene, no hygiene, that takes a lot of guts and trust, no?
Hey...I've got this skin here attached to a part of me that appears to be extremely sensitive. I'm thinking I should just slice it off. You want to go next? No...better yet...let's do it to a baby.
**
I'm now the new owner of an espresso machine. I babysit for a woman who gets TONS of free shit and while she 'pays it forward' a lot of the time it's mostly candles and trinkets.(don't get me wrong, my hoarding tendencies love candles and trinkets) There have been some great things: Jessica Simpson jeans and a fun purse (which all ended up belonging to my sister) she recently gave me a slip of paper from KRUPS. All I had to do was put my mailing address on it, stick it in an envelope, and send it on it's merry way. Three weeks later a brand new espresso machine was sitting on my kitchen counter. I had more lattes this past weekend than I've probably had in a year. And it was awesome....
**
Nerd Alert: Mark has become super active in the education world as he tries to develop a career out of teaching experience. He was a member of the VIVA project New York Task Force and got to go to Albany to present the work to the NY Senior Deputy Commissioner of Education. He's also starting a website which will help teachers help each other build curriculum. I think. Anyway, if you read this and you're a teacher in NY visit these sites. The Opendoor site is still in it's infancy stage but if you're interested in learning more feel free to contact Mark through the site. He eats this shit for breakfast. And lunch. And dinner. I'm not allowed to talk to him. But sometimes I squeeze his shoulders as he's hunched over the laptop.
Sunday, February 13, 2011
The Lazy Blogger
I have plenty of time to write posts but I either forget what I wanted to write about or I think I won't be able to make it funny or interesting. Or maybe it's not really substantial enough to be a blog post. But then I realize that every post is not funny or interesting or substantial enough but I write it anyway so why not just write a post and maybe someone will be interested. So I think from now on I'll write even when it's just little nuggets of thought. Which might have been the original idea for me starting this blog anyway. Well that and to document my trip to Colombia which of course was not the most positive, funny, or interesting. So there.
Some random nuggets while I ruminate on a larger post:
**
I dream of living in a neighborhood where everyone, including 80-yr-old grandmothers, don't spit giant globs of mucus on an extremely constant basis. (Read: I want to live where there are lots of white people. But the kind that don't chew tobacco) I'm so sick of of seeing spit flying. Or hearing hunks of mucus come through someone's throat. Am I grossing you out? Well then just try living in my shoes. Well not really because then you'll just be walking on mucus. But that's my point. Dear slightly-fresh-off-the-boat latinos of Inwood: It's fucking disgusting. Have I offended you with my daring generalization? Well guess what- I'm offended by the disgusting habit.
**
Okay- so you're a college educated girl. You've had mini-adventures. Most of them revolved around jobs so you were, in some way, developing a resume (little accent thingy on the e. New operating system again and can't add it.) Character building. All that stuff. You live in a major metropolis. You had what some would consider a solid job. But it was sucking your soul and you had to leave. And you feel lost and confused and angry (very angry).
So instead of having a nice apartment on a street where very few people spit with cute, young children, and a fairly satisfying career you babysit for other young-ish couples who have nice apartments, a fairly satisfying career, and cute (sometimes) young children. And on Wednesdays you babysit until about 10pm. Then after being handed a check for a small sum that will, at least, cover your groceries for a week you -literally- run three long blocks and down a giant staircase to the bus stop because if you have to watch a bus go by you'll freak out because now you're too far from the train station.
This is the scenario where you face your worst enemy. What is your worst enemy you say? Let's see: You've babysat. It's late. They got home later than usual. It's FREEZING. You're exhausted because you're not sleeping well because all you do is lay in bed and think about how you're life is going (see above) and you've run three blocks to catch a bus which may or may not show up soon. (It is the MTA after all. Schedules are more or less a suggestion) You get to the stop. Up ahead in the distance you can the tiny, yellow twinkle lights that dance above a bus. You shiver as the wind roars around you. You smile a bit to yourself. Yes! That run on icy sidewalks paid off! You'll get home fairly quick. But then. The bus gets closer. And you see it. Emblazoned across the top in bright yellow lights.
NOT IN SERVICE.
Some random nuggets while I ruminate on a larger post:
**
I dream of living in a neighborhood where everyone, including 80-yr-old grandmothers, don't spit giant globs of mucus on an extremely constant basis. (Read: I want to live where there are lots of white people. But the kind that don't chew tobacco) I'm so sick of of seeing spit flying. Or hearing hunks of mucus come through someone's throat. Am I grossing you out? Well then just try living in my shoes. Well not really because then you'll just be walking on mucus. But that's my point. Dear slightly-fresh-off-the-boat latinos of Inwood: It's fucking disgusting. Have I offended you with my daring generalization? Well guess what- I'm offended by the disgusting habit.
**
Okay- so you're a college educated girl. You've had mini-adventures. Most of them revolved around jobs so you were, in some way, developing a resume (little accent thingy on the e. New operating system again and can't add it.) Character building. All that stuff. You live in a major metropolis. You had what some would consider a solid job. But it was sucking your soul and you had to leave. And you feel lost and confused and angry (very angry).
So instead of having a nice apartment on a street where very few people spit with cute, young children, and a fairly satisfying career you babysit for other young-ish couples who have nice apartments, a fairly satisfying career, and cute (sometimes) young children. And on Wednesdays you babysit until about 10pm. Then after being handed a check for a small sum that will, at least, cover your groceries for a week you -literally- run three long blocks and down a giant staircase to the bus stop because if you have to watch a bus go by you'll freak out because now you're too far from the train station.
This is the scenario where you face your worst enemy. What is your worst enemy you say? Let's see: You've babysat. It's late. They got home later than usual. It's FREEZING. You're exhausted because you're not sleeping well because all you do is lay in bed and think about how you're life is going (see above) and you've run three blocks to catch a bus which may or may not show up soon. (It is the MTA after all. Schedules are more or less a suggestion) You get to the stop. Up ahead in the distance you can the tiny, yellow twinkle lights that dance above a bus. You shiver as the wind roars around you. You smile a bit to yourself. Yes! That run on icy sidewalks paid off! You'll get home fairly quick. But then. The bus gets closer. And you see it. Emblazoned across the top in bright yellow lights.
NOT IN SERVICE.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
DVD on Repeat
I was finally able to see How to Train Your Dragon this weekend. And so I watched it two days in a row. I figure if TNT can do it why can't I? It was enjoyable. I mean...it had one of those things about movies that always irk me. That being when everyone has an accent except the main character.
The previous offender was Wolfman. Everyone is English and then here comes Benicio del Toro just strutting around with his strange, soft voice and we're all just supposed to pretend like nothing weird is going on here.
What's funny is that I was less annoyed with the voices in H2TYD. Probably because I actually liked it. Wolfman is a horror film and I didn't get past the first 20 minutes but I'm a sucker for animated, funny movies. Though the whole voice thing was pretty bad. They're supposed to be vikings but all the adults had "Scottish" accents, the female was American, and the main character, a skinny, awkward boy had your wry, sarcastic, sorta whiny voice courtesy of this guy:
No, I don't expect the accents to matter because casting is casting and let's face it this is a cartoon. But some movies it does drive me crazy. Imagine if they had casted a Harry Potter film that takes place in England with all English actors but Harry is some giant Hollywood star so we're just supposed to roll with his non-English voice. They do that stuff all the time and it's a pet peeve. That's the point of this post.
Also-who wouldn't love How to Train Your Dragon? Is Toothless not the cutest, coolest pet ever? I want one so bad.
The previous offender was Wolfman. Everyone is English and then here comes Benicio del Toro just strutting around with his strange, soft voice and we're all just supposed to pretend like nothing weird is going on here.
What's funny is that I was less annoyed with the voices in H2TYD. Probably because I actually liked it. Wolfman is a horror film and I didn't get past the first 20 minutes but I'm a sucker for animated, funny movies. Though the whole voice thing was pretty bad. They're supposed to be vikings but all the adults had "Scottish" accents, the female was American, and the main character, a skinny, awkward boy had your wry, sarcastic, sorta whiny voice courtesy of this guy:
No, I don't expect the accents to matter because casting is casting and let's face it this is a cartoon. But some movies it does drive me crazy. Imagine if they had casted a Harry Potter film that takes place in England with all English actors but Harry is some giant Hollywood star so we're just supposed to roll with his non-English voice. They do that stuff all the time and it's a pet peeve. That's the point of this post.
Also-who wouldn't love How to Train Your Dragon? Is Toothless not the cutest, coolest pet ever? I want one so bad.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Hey There Lonely Girl
Dear young people who suffer from low self-esteem. Who spend hours trying to look and act a certain way because you think no one will ever want/desire/love you. News Flash: It really doesn't matter how unattractive you are or how unattractive society and pop culture tells you that you are- you'll get laid. Don't worry.
I'm mean really. If you lived in college housing then you discovered this pretty quickly. Sure there are the "hot" people. The ones who dress nice and who make themselves appear unattainable. But really, as long as you're not smelly or a total social pariah, as long as you find that group of people who share the same interests as you, you will find amor.
Think about this: at my college there were pirates. No, it did not have a nautical studies major, nor were there any large bodies of water present. There were simply some dudes who must have been seriously into D&D. Who had long greasy hair. Who enjoyed parachute pants, large black boots, flouncy shirts, and who were very talented at creating swords and other pirate-like weapons out of cardboard, foam, and duct tape. And all of these guys had girlfriends. Not just girlfriends but wenches. Girls with flowy skirts and possibly even a corset thrown in there.
Then there was a rather rotund guy who always-ALWAYS- wore a poncho. A giant, floor-length poncho. (Who I actually got to know a tiny bit because we ended up being R.A.s in the same building for a semester, nice guy.) Not only did he always wear the poncho but he always had Birkenstocks on. In the winter. Because, oh yes, in the spring/summer he went shoe-less. And he had a serious girlfriend. So serious she was moving back home with him after they graduated and I'm pretty sure at that point they would be married. Whether or not they did is beside the point. The point is this guy was not a Kardashian or a Brad Pitt and he was getting some. And he was in love.
Then there is Mark and I. I am the poster child for low self-esteem. I wear ill-fitting clothing. I love hats in the winter because I don't have to worry about my frizzy hair that hasn't been professionally cut in years. I'm borderline overweight. I've had chub in the same place since the 4th grade so it's going NOWHERE. I have terrible posture. I never wear contact lenses. Mark is a unicorn. And he has hobbit feet. And oh the farting......
But anyway. I love him. And he loves me. At least he loves my cooking. But we have each other and in the core of me I'm happy. I might not be a bouncy, happy-go-lucky person but even on my bluest day I know I have the super important stuff.
So:
Dear Young Person. Stop wasting money on things that you think other's will judge you favorably on but you don't really like. Stop trying to make friends with people who seem cool but treat you like shit. Just be you and go out and find someone who'll notice. It might take awhile but my goodness, we've got years.
I'm mean really. If you lived in college housing then you discovered this pretty quickly. Sure there are the "hot" people. The ones who dress nice and who make themselves appear unattainable. But really, as long as you're not smelly or a total social pariah, as long as you find that group of people who share the same interests as you, you will find amor.
Think about this: at my college there were pirates. No, it did not have a nautical studies major, nor were there any large bodies of water present. There were simply some dudes who must have been seriously into D&D. Who had long greasy hair. Who enjoyed parachute pants, large black boots, flouncy shirts, and who were very talented at creating swords and other pirate-like weapons out of cardboard, foam, and duct tape. And all of these guys had girlfriends. Not just girlfriends but wenches. Girls with flowy skirts and possibly even a corset thrown in there.
Then there was a rather rotund guy who always-ALWAYS- wore a poncho. A giant, floor-length poncho. (Who I actually got to know a tiny bit because we ended up being R.A.s in the same building for a semester, nice guy.) Not only did he always wear the poncho but he always had Birkenstocks on. In the winter. Because, oh yes, in the spring/summer he went shoe-less. And he had a serious girlfriend. So serious she was moving back home with him after they graduated and I'm pretty sure at that point they would be married. Whether or not they did is beside the point. The point is this guy was not a Kardashian or a Brad Pitt and he was getting some. And he was in love.
Then there is Mark and I. I am the poster child for low self-esteem. I wear ill-fitting clothing. I love hats in the winter because I don't have to worry about my frizzy hair that hasn't been professionally cut in years. I'm borderline overweight. I've had chub in the same place since the 4th grade so it's going NOWHERE. I have terrible posture. I never wear contact lenses. Mark is a unicorn. And he has hobbit feet. And oh the farting......
But anyway. I love him. And he loves me. At least he loves my cooking. But we have each other and in the core of me I'm happy. I might not be a bouncy, happy-go-lucky person but even on my bluest day I know I have the super important stuff.
So:
Dear Young Person. Stop wasting money on things that you think other's will judge you favorably on but you don't really like. Stop trying to make friends with people who seem cool but treat you like shit. Just be you and go out and find someone who'll notice. It might take awhile but my goodness, we've got years.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Before January Ends
New Post, new post, new post. Everyday I tell myself to write one and then I don't. What is there to say? I'm a blue person. I don't want to be depressed and mopey on my blog, I save the special honor of listening to my sad self for poor Mark.
Anyway, here I am waiting for another blast of snow to start. Were you out on the Tuesday after MLK day this week in NYC? My god that has to be the worst weather I've ever experienced. EVER. I mean it wasn't snow it wasn't rain. What was it? It was like it was raining pure slush. Not like snow falls then turns to slush- it was raining slush. I was totally amazed and horrified.
Today as I left my babysitting gig I was passed by a stroller being pushed by the dad. And in his hand was a shopping bag bursting with tampons and pads. And I couldn't help it: I released an immature giggle. Here is a dad staying home with baby, which is all Go Dad! Go Equal Parenting! but then there is that silly cliche of the wife who forces the husband to do the menstrual shopping and I just cringe for the poor guy. Maybe that's why he was walking so fast. He had to get out of the open.
I'm on a reading binge. I can't stop. I read so much in one week that my eye was literally exhausted and couldn't even focus anymore. I was reading a trilogy that my pal Mario had hooked me up with. That was entertaining if also a little strange. But right before I was swimming in Young Adult, Sci-fi, post apocalyptic world, I was looking for something to do and I picked up an old book that I've had since my AmeriCorps years. I didn't remember everything about it but I did remember enjoying it. So here I am diving in and suddenly it makes itself apparent. Holy Crap! This is a romance novel! I had no idea. I definitely remember 'those things' happening but I guess it just didn't dawn on me when I first read it that it was a romance novel. There's no Fabio on the cover. No woman busting out of her corset.
So I read it. Also, I had discovered a number of months ago that the author had decided to develop the characters and create a series out of it. And low and behold I had bought the second one for 6 bucks at Barnes & Noble before I was reintroduced to the first one so I had the second one waiting for me and of course I dove in because I was hooked. It's romance. But it's also historical fiction which I'm a total sucker for. And it's tasteful. :)
Anyway, here I am waiting for another blast of snow to start. Were you out on the Tuesday after MLK day this week in NYC? My god that has to be the worst weather I've ever experienced. EVER. I mean it wasn't snow it wasn't rain. What was it? It was like it was raining pure slush. Not like snow falls then turns to slush- it was raining slush. I was totally amazed and horrified.
Today as I left my babysitting gig I was passed by a stroller being pushed by the dad. And in his hand was a shopping bag bursting with tampons and pads. And I couldn't help it: I released an immature giggle. Here is a dad staying home with baby, which is all Go Dad! Go Equal Parenting! but then there is that silly cliche of the wife who forces the husband to do the menstrual shopping and I just cringe for the poor guy. Maybe that's why he was walking so fast. He had to get out of the open.
I'm on a reading binge. I can't stop. I read so much in one week that my eye was literally exhausted and couldn't even focus anymore. I was reading a trilogy that my pal Mario had hooked me up with. That was entertaining if also a little strange. But right before I was swimming in Young Adult, Sci-fi, post apocalyptic world, I was looking for something to do and I picked up an old book that I've had since my AmeriCorps years. I didn't remember everything about it but I did remember enjoying it. So here I am diving in and suddenly it makes itself apparent. Holy Crap! This is a romance novel! I had no idea. I definitely remember 'those things' happening but I guess it just didn't dawn on me when I first read it that it was a romance novel. There's no Fabio on the cover. No woman busting out of her corset.
So I read it. Also, I had discovered a number of months ago that the author had decided to develop the characters and create a series out of it. And low and behold I had bought the second one for 6 bucks at Barnes & Noble before I was reintroduced to the first one so I had the second one waiting for me and of course I dove in because I was hooked. It's romance. But it's also historical fiction which I'm a total sucker for. And it's tasteful. :)
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