heaven or hell: doughnuts or grapefruit?

so there's this new show on lifetime-- a woman's channel-- called 'drop dead diva'. tonight aired the series premiere.
the premise: two woman die at the same time [or sometime thereabouts]. one is this really smart, low-confident, self-help-reading, overweight lawyer. the other is a really shallow, really smart.. err, knowledgeable about fashion, [at least not skinny but] toned ditz whose fate on judgment day is up in the air as she had done nothing 'good' or 'bad' in life making heaven or hell a toss up. [the stereotypical differences basically resolve the question brought up in 'when harry met sally': can a woman be smart and attractive?..]
in the end, by a press of a button of her own doing, the blonde ends up reincarnated as the aforementioned overweight opposite. she continues to have the knowledge/memory of her ditz-self as well as the smarts of the former inhabitant's.
ok, so we've seen this before, to some extent-- personalities in different bodies: like father like son, big, freaky friday, 13 going on 30, 17 again, to name a few. but the difference between this show and these examples, aside from tv vs. movie, is the body switch: the outer-body experience is not age-related but weight-related... could we expect anything less from a woman's channel?. but o weight, i mean, o wait. memory just decided to serve me-- shallow hal: gwyneth paltrow in a fat suit. so, oops, it has been done. what, then, is my beef? i guess the difference then is that gwyneth played both her 'hollywood-sized regular' self and her same character's self in a fat suit, whereas in this show it's a woman experiencing life in another real' [in tv land] woman's body played by a real woman in reality. that is, in [hopefully more comprehensible] english, the characters are two different women played by two different women.


so here's my beef: multiple times in this hour-long episode, they have this larger, portrayed as less attractive, woman see her own reflection and act totally disgusted [..to tears..] by what she sees, cause remember, she's playing a supposed gorgeous knockout blonde in her.. well, real, not.. blonde body.. was her [the shallow blonde ditz's] undecidable fate of heaven or hell really a toss up or was *hell*[period] her decided fate since she thereafter became reincarnated as this larger woman? moreover, what effect did/does this have on the lead actress herself playing this character? when it comes to acting, so i hear, it helps to really embody/feel what the character feels to make the most believable portrayal. if what i hear is accurate, then, man, i think that's a sign of strength? or real self-assurance? or something.. to do/be that all day, go home in the same unremoveable body 'suit', only to wake up and do it again.
the show has some potential though, i think. the teasers show a number of guest appearances and... psha, i'm writing about it aren't i?.. yeah right. not. but i'll likely be watching it next week..

kids: surprisingly perceptive yet still adorably clueless

i watched the kids today and it was one of those good times. it's just so... fulfilling? rewarding? fascinating?.. i don't know the word.. but it is something to see people grow and develop-- especially when they're young and little, when change is at a maximum and rapid.
what i'm not so happy about is seeing [and experiencing] the kids starting to adopt the world's negativity. they're starting to hit [..and kick ..a lot, no less] *ouch* and use derrogatives like stoopid. today, they went as far as wishing i were dead. *gasp*. *ouch to the nth power*. but wish, i granted them, at least to give them a little taste of what they were actually saying. so i laid down on the floor and closed my eyes. the older one came up to me and asked if i was dead. i didn't respond, duh, cause that would have totally blown my cover. so he just kneeled on me. but i kept my morbid position and he went off to do something else. then the little one came up to me. she wanted to ask me a question. she kept calling my name. she asked if i was dead. she shook me. she had a question. she touched my face. tried a little to open my mouth. then she took her little fingers and tried to open my eyes. repeat: little fingers tried to pry my shut eyes open. .. ..effing hilarious. ..she's supposed to be the 'average child'. perhaps maybe she has doctor written in her future?. ..is that pushing it?.. ha ha.. but hey, to give her credit, she sort of knew what to look for..
the older one then asked me if that's what it means to be dead. i told him yes, that you're forever asleep and you can't talk or answer questions.. his response was solemn: i wish i'll never be dead.. which was good for him to realize with the perk of him ceasing to wish it upon myself.
they kept hitting though, mixed in with a purple duck thrown at me. after talking with/getting some advice from my mom a few days earlier about disciplining, i found a corner and told them that they'd have to stand there, facing the wall if they were bad-- a reasonable punishment that didn't involve violence to treat violence, a punishment i, as a little one myself once, am familiar with. upon hearing these terms, the older one quickly got to work. then, after unknowingly assisting him with the spelling, the clever little genius came up with a sign that read: not working under construction. by 'not working' he meant the corner and therefore him [and his sister-in-crime] escaping punishment. i mean, who thinks of that?? it's sophisticated way beyond 'my dog ate my homework' and i can tell you this kid's age using just one hand..
lastly, was probably my favorite of the night.
i asked the little one: what's your favorite vegetable?
she told me: um, beans and carrots.
i asked her: what kind of beans? green beans?.
she responded with quick and slightly huffy: no.
ok, i said then: what kind of beans?.
she didn't know.
i asked her: what color beans do you like?
um, she said: green.
o, i said: so you like green beans.
she said: no, i like beans and they're green. um.. [she paused, confused, you could totally see her thinking this out]. umm wait. [her quick and slightly huffy no was suddenly rescinded]. ..what are green beans?.
me: green beans?. they're also called string beans. they're green and long like strings that's why they're called string beans or just green beans.
[a smile of understanding lights her face]: yeah, i like green beans.
effing queue-uute.
it's funny. as the adult you're constantly answering questions like: what's that? what's this say? what does that mean? how do you spell..?.. you become like a walking encyclopedia/dictionary/thesaurus. but, you know what?. they're worth it.

i can't believe it's not... ..moldy n' shit.

i don't know how this happened.. ok, so last night i ran out of butter. big bummer. it's not something i would normally [..run out of]-- perhaps i attribute it to growing older and, as a result, less anal? [hopefully?]. it was too late to run to the market to replenish. i scavenged my freezer in hopes i was two steps ahead of my at-that-moment self but to no avail, i was not. i then checked my fridge again-- i vaguely remember seeing a box on the door. my preference is the kind in a tub but i was needy, aww, and therefore willing to put aside my precious preference [alliteration].. slap on the back of the hand: let that be a lesson to you 'young' lady. ..on one hand: kidding, relax.. on the other hand: man, talk about branding.. and what were to happen, say, if natural disaster were to hit?. there are worse things than running out of butter..
anyway, my running out of dairy goodness is not what made me incredulous. [remember? first line of post..]. my memory is not totally failing me yet [thank you very much mr. crossword-puzzle man.. or woman?.. or likely, computer program?, whatever..], a box of butter indeed was on the door of my fridge with 1/4 of a stick still remaining. woohoo.. or so i thought. then, shortly thereafter, was when incredulity hit. today is may 30, 2009. well, ok, yesterday was may 29, 2009. the expiration date of that box of butter on the door of my fridge read.. [gulp]. [luvme]. '12/15/06'.. you, or one, would've hoped the ink had partially faded and it meant to read: '12/15/08'. or the roundabouts of that era. but, sadly, let's face it, there was nowhere near fadeage with this ink. it was boldly and clearly printed [for perhaps near eternity] on that box that i found on the door of my fridge: '12/15/06'.. [have a seat. take a load off. i know, this is a lot to take in..] then i took note of the brand of this box of butter i found on the door of my fridge: wegmans. it was wegmans brand butter. wegmans. wegmans is a supermarket my mother shops at in the homestate i grew up in, a state you can say i avoid going back to with the exception of.. weddings. um, yes. weddings. like i said, it's my homestate, people tend to get married where they're from. um, yes. so the past few [that is, three] times i went back were for weddings-- trip to wegmans or any other supermarket for that matter not included. wegmans, man, wegmans. i can't remember the last time i shopped at wegmans. moreover, i can't remember the last time i bought stick butter.. o, but wait, actually i guess i do.. it must've been.. o sometime the end of '06.. 2006.. two and a fucking half years ago.. now, i don't use the acronym myself, but if i were to, i would find this an appropriate time to type: lmfao.. the kind, so hard, that it hurts. .but you know? even after two and a half effing years, not fresh, yes, to say the least, it didn't look as bad as i would have thought..
anyway. so. predicament, i found myself in. the easy route would have been to skip the fluffy leavened carbs i desired at the time and call it a [wheat-free?] night but instead i took the 'heart healthy' route-- i poured some 'evoo' [..thanku rachel..] in a dish and sprinkled freshly ground pepper atop.. my arteries thanked me. my taste buds? well, let's just say they were slightly less satisfied.. if only they hadn't anticipated moo's fat, maybe they wouldn't have been so hard to please..
the next day, first thing in the morning, well, second, after going to the bathroom.. well, third actually, i forgot i did some yoga. but absolutely third thing i did straight away the next morning, i went to the market to pick up my beloved butter [alliteration], amongst other things. and they had 'my kind'. woohoo... but. eh?!.. the 'best if used by' date read: '05/10/09'.. what year are we in?, i thought, thinking maybe i was in some time warp. but hope springs eternal. get a grip, so back to reality i thought: wha? you're shitting me. i felt like it would have been fitting if i, at that moment, were a cartoon character, standing there, creating squeaking noises as i rubbed my eyes with both my fists in disbelief. i later went to another store. also: expired.!. gasp. maybe it was just not meant to be. a sign, a sign, from the butter lords. i ended up going back to the first place and getting the salted version-- best by 08/something/09.. my mother once asked me why i use 'sweet cream', so it's called. that is, unsalted butter. my response? cause i have a cannister of salt at home. if i want salt on whatever i'm buttering, i'll use that. otherwise, why consume extra if i don't need it?. um.. period.
so, what can we learn from all of this? [..i'm currently in the middle of designing lesson plans so-to-speak, so pardon me, i'm very in the mode of bulleting lesson points..].
ahem, and the morals of the post are.. drumroll unnecessary..
--thanku refrigeration. i imagine it's an oft overlooked asset most/all take for granted.
--expiration dates: they're there for a reason. use them. and, uhh..
--..note that grocers don't always keep track of them, so careful of spending your hard-earned dough on stale goods, i mean, 'bads'.
--if there's one thing you shouldn't be a pack rat of, for sure, it's food. don't consume like a camel because you'll wind up becoming an elephant. and don't leave shit in your fridge or cupboards or pantries or whereever the hell you store your food [aka. perishables.. to perish. to go bad..]. food: it don't last forever.. 'cept maybe some of those expertly, highly-processed, packaged junk.. but, really, should you be eating that shit to begin with?.. [just asking..].
--and last, but not least: for [most] every situation, there's a bright side. look at it. and laugh more. like from where butter comes from, milk, it does a body good.

i miss my green monster... badly..

On Thursday, April 30, 2009, sometime between the minutes of 2:00pm and 2:10pm my beloved bike was stolen. It was parked/locked right in front of one of the entrances to the Time Warner building on the corner of Broadway and 60th St. It was chained to the walk/don't-walk post. I believe a tall, dark or tan-skinned man wearing a lavender top, black pants, white sneakers, a hat; carrying a simple green [~12"x12"?] bag, stole my bike. I believe a light-skinned man wearing all black, sitting and texting very close to my bike [facing it actually], may have been his accomplice.

About my bike:
--brand/model: Fuji Sagres
--year: I don't know what year it is exactly but I'm thinking maybe 2003 [otherwise 2004-05]
--color: Emerald green. White/silver lettering.
--condition: Very good. not rusty. still good paint. fairly new tires, chain/bracket.
--handle bars: Flat with slight u. ends have silver, slightly-curved horns.
--shifters: GripShift.
--grips: Translucent whitish, cut at ends because the bike originally had lever shifters.
--stem: Adjustable.
--# speeds: 24.
--seat: mongoose [from previous bike], plain, black.
--tires: Bontrager, thin.
--pedals: non-click, silver.
--kickstand: yes.

Here is what my bike looks like [minus the horns at the end of the handlebars, and the black saddle]:


Every time I leave my house, I make an effort to check out every bike I pass or that passes me to see if it's MINE. Bike recovery is slim to nil but I hope to one day find MY bike nonetheless. I hope too that this thief, this criminal, breaks his legs and then his hands and then worse. My heart is broken and I think he, and the many others like him, deserve to suffer because I and others have because of their ruthless acts. Bikes are more than just metal/rubber to their owners. That is fact. Or sentimental truth.

I am interested in finding ways to make bike parking safer. I am interested in cracking down on bike theft and having criminals pay. If you too are interested, then please let me know-- together, we'll become superheroes.

I am asking for help in finding MY bike. Please be on the lookout. Please let me know anything that may lead to my bike's recovery. Please. I ask kindly. And you $hall be $ure great reward$ will be granted. Again, MY bike is so much more than just a dollar-value to me. My heart. It aches. Badly. Badly. Please help. Please be on the lookout.

c'mon diane. you can inform better than that.

o come on.. give me a break.
ok. here's the dish: i watch celebrity trash tv if a few conditions all happen to coincide: that is, if i get home early, am tired, and just want to veg on the couch for a lil break.. mindlessly..
so i saw this story prolly last week and again it was told today. the show does that a lot-- always keeping us updated on the latest.. as any reliable news source does.. .. ..ha..
here's the story/'controversy': is this miss universe contestant [or winner?] too thin?? skeletal or beauti-full?



the aussie flew all the way to nyc to clear the air/defend herself to none other than the well-respected[?] diane sawyer.. ..c'mon, diane, you can do better than this.

they quote her height and weight, which i'm not too concerned about-- numbers, that's all they are.. but just look at her. look at her. if she was ok, would she be getting all or any of this attention? now, i don't follow the miss whatever pagents and couldn't care less about them but since it is being brought up, it should duly be noted that despite the idiocy of even its existence, it nevertheless does have some impact or some saying on the social standard defining what beauty is.. i mean, just think of all them young [and old] influenceable lasses out there.. sad.

so the stick figure flies halfway across the world for the televised interview. she's asked if she thinks she's too thin and/or if she has an eating disorder. she gets emotional. pauses. needs to recollect herself as a fake/non-existent tear [doesn't] appear because the allegation is so hurtful. finally she is able to respond and says she is perfectly healthy and has never had an eating disorder and was never anorexic or bulimic in her life.

i mean, it's one thing when you've got the trashy celeb shows informing the public of stories like this but it's kind of another, i think, when you've got diane sawyer doing the same. i mean i know even newscasters too are just fye [for your entertainment] but have they no shame to at least try to fake it? or did i give them too much credit and in which case they too really are that ignorant.
so like i said, the story airs her height/weight [data] and her word.. as if that were to serve as confirmation?.. ok, you're not?.. just checking.. ..if every addict/mentally disordered patient could get away with that.. hmm.. ..i wonder what the mental health industry would be like today.. or if it would even exist at all.. d'nile. it aint' just a river, as they say.. what the researchers [of the tv show] should've done is.. maybe they're job?. so the tv personality could've asked better questions, like:
--well, it seems that you fall way below 'normal' weight, granted which is sometimes subjective but in this case it's drastic.., would you be willing to gain, say, 10 lbs? [which is still considered low].
--if you'd be willing, why don't you?. OR. why aren't you willing/what's the 'fear factor'?
--[well, you're already denying the fact that you look/are skeletal, so i won't ask you again..] umm..
--do you have your period?.. i know this is prolly something one wouldn't be able to ask a guest on network tv, but it's relevent.!. [..and i rarely use exclamation points when i write..]

ummm.. aside from dsm iv, what else?..
--how much do you work out?
--how can we confirm how much you say you actually intake per day/week?
--would you be confident that if we took a blood/urine sample everything will test normal?
--how often do you weigh yourself?

ummm..
--my those are lovely locks.. how much of them are actually yours?
--my those are lovely nails.. are they just as lovely[/strong] underneath that polish?
--umm, is it cold in here or is it just me?...

the list goes on. and now while i understand the limits of airtime, i think out of all of them, if they really cared-- for her and the education of their viewers-- they could have asked/challenged her to gain ~10 lbs or so and see what would happen. ..or at least, that's what i would've liked to see.. or they could've gone risque and asked if she's menstruating and then have gone onto a followup story about the number of celeb women having twin babies--> using fertility treatment--> why so many need it--> umm.. just throwing this out there.. too low weight?.. ..yet stunningly gorgeous and praised..

ho hum..
may the world/media set the right example for all them young[and old]'-uns out there..
peace.

what the eff is that?.. [..muffle.hypocrisy.].

A coworker today eagerly suggested we play a ‘game’ of trivia called ‘What the Eff is that?’—something she [obviously] wanted to share with the group in the few minutes remaining during our morning meeting. She whips out a leaflet from her bag and hands it to the guy sitting next to her—which wasn’t me [I’m a girl]. He looks at it closely and starts at an attempt to answer: ‘it’s uhhh….’. As he does so, I’m sitting there trying to guess what this is all about. From the tone of her voice when announcing the so-called game she sounded surprised and/or disgusted or just truly confused—an occurance not too uncommon in her case [bless her]. I was thinking on the lines of it being an abstract image, making her have that type of reaction, like an inkblot or something. The guy finishes examining the image and I motion for it to be passed on to me. I take a look and it’s a colorful takeout menu written in Spanish. On the back there are a few pictures of items they offer—I’m guessing platters they want to highlight? The point of focus is one in particular—it’s an.. an.. animal of some kind: whole and belly up on a bed of lettuce.. or rice, I forget which. It had legs like a rabbit, paws like a squirrel, and a head like a beaver or perhaps a rodent. It was a takeout menu, the picture was no more than two inches wide and you can imagine the resolution. I guess what she meant was: ‘What the Effin’ animal is that?’ And maybe to add, ‘People really order/eat that??’.
The discussion continued after the meeting was over. Someone finally figured out what it was—the name of the animal and everything, that is, in Spanish, without translation. It was confirmed to be along the lineage of rabbit. The discussion continued with the topic of eating animal, or rather, meat. I was reminded again how far removed our culture is from knowing where food comes from and what it is we actually swallow.
I was hearing people—meat lovers/eaters at that—say they would never eat what they saw in that picture—a relative of Thumper, I’m assuming. They said they would never eat what they saw in the picture next to it either—the plated head of Porky. In fact, they extended that rule to all animals—no heads, they scorned. Really?? I asked in astonishment. Even if, despite the head on, they were offered meat from the body? Apparently so. Well, what about fish?. I don’t know what I was thinking when asking that. That there’d be a difference if it lived in water vs. land? or if the animal was smaller? Dumb, I know. But anyway, no was the answer to my silly question. Fish is delish, but not if it comes with a head; note to self, buy only from those fish the headless seas when entertaining.. ..O, c’mon, let’s get real, these people are crazy. When I was a kid the cheeks of the fish were the best part and I’d only get to have one of them—my brother got the other, with a fish having only two cheeks and all. These folks have missed out on the ‘best’ part of their fish-eating lives, I thought. What a shame.
I stopped questioning at fish, but the girl who brought in the menu, who started all this, continued to say she wigs out even when she gets shrimp with the heads on. My head was about to fall off. Good thing it didn’t, though, because maybe she would’ve eaten me.
Americans don’t eat animal. They don’t eat cow or pig. They eat beef or pork or bacon or ham. They don’t eat horse. They eat hotdogs. I wonder how it is that they’ve come to eat chicken. Then again, maybe they don’t but do nuggets or buckets of KFC. And what about the breast milk of cattle?. Umm, if you’re talking about what is added to cereal or what makes lattes, that stuff comes merely in jugs or cartons from the refrigerated section of the supermarket is all, thankuverymuch. That reminds me of, I guess what I would now consider, that clever commercial for orange juice: a woman shopping in the refrigerated section of a supermarket for orange juice reaches her arm way into the shelf, and from the orange tree orchard on the other side, she pulls out a ‘fresh’ box of pasteurized orange juice—just as if picked from a tree—the box full of peel-free, pith-free, fiber-free, pulp-free juice, that is.
Great [exclamation point]. So calories aren’t the only things that make people oblivious. That is, how much people eat aside, they [or many] have no effing clue what exactly it is they’re eating—where their food comes from or what’s been done to it, from farm-to-table [pardon the trite expression] or chemical plant-to-plate. Perhaps, though, ignorance is bliss. I mean, ignorant can heartily chow down on mystery flesh [to prevent illness/deficiency, she claims] as long as it looks nothing like its real live form, with eyes, and teeth and so on and so forth. But if the ignorant are to stumble upon reality, then let’s just hope cultures are not disrespected nor baseless opinions spoken aloud—keeping everyone at bliss [and headache-free].

subway sweet.

i was sitting on the 6 train headed back uptown. it was spaciously quiet, everyone having more than enough room to sprawl out vs. just a couple of hours ago when my experience on the downtown train was jam packed such that railing was unnecessary and actually impossible to reach. at that time, 3 or 4 people and the door all sufficiently squeezed me tight in place. in any case, so i'm on my way back uptown. the train pulls into a station. the doors open. after a moments pause, the couple standing alongside the wall slowly approach the open doors. they're young, but not immaturely so. they walked slowly as if they had all the time in the world. they enter, seemingly as if they were unsure if they were on the right train but instead, it turned out, they were just really goddam relaxed, without any worries. unlike myself. where i book into the train the second the doors open so the doors don't close on me. so i can get a seat. for whatever possible innately anal reason i might have. as they enter, i notice they're sharing a hersheys candy bar-- the cookies and cream flavor. i'm drawn to them because it's hard for me to imagine eating chocolate straight up. i mean, i'm good with a brownie or sipping hot chocolate, but straight up..? not so much. the girl is looking aimlessly at the wall opposite of her inside the car, perhaps an advertisement, munching on a piece. the boy, finished with his, delicately takes the package from her and breaks off a piece. he offers it to her but she is not paying attention nor does she notice. and even though she still has a piece in her right hand, nonetheless, he places another into her left, the one next to him, and she inattentively accepts. he breaks off another piece from inside the package and eats it for himself. he pulls out the last piece and breaks it in half. he takes a moment to compare the two halves. one is clearly bigger than the other. instead of 50-50, it's more like 60-40. in the same hand as before, he places the bigger of the two pieces. again, she accepts it, unknowing what has just happened. unknowing the thoughtfulness that was put into that little piece of chocolate. and so was the end of the candy bar but certainly not his love for her.