Quote of the Day

Jordan: "ifhyaeyl"

Me: "If feeling hot yields anything extraordinary, you'll learn?"

Jordan: "I 'friggin'' hate you and everything you love."

Me: "But I love you..."

What A Weekend

This weekend chewed on my nerves and spit out what sits here typing away. I figure that remembering this weekend may bring other situations into focus.

It started with my Friday evening nap taking over my entire Friday night. The dogs are always too willing to curl up next to me and sleep. So one night down. But after working and commuting over 12 hours every day last week, I am pretty sure my body was making the decision for me in the never ending conundrum of Social Life VS. Pneumonia.

Saturday morning, my friend Melissa and I went to an introductory class all about learning how to use your SLR camera. The one that I thought I bought myself for turning old this past year and now it sits on top of my shelf staring at me all the time as a reminder that at some point in my life, I am going to have to overcome my debilitating fear of manuals and actually sit down to read one. We arrive to the classroom, kept at a brisk 45 degrees with blasting air conditioner, for what I believe was that the owner of the building is under the misconception that any of us have actual film in our cameras and that the rest of the town was enveloped in flames so he wanted to keep someone's film cold. He done good. But after sitting down, I learned that I, in fact, do not have an SLR camera and that my advanced "Point-And-Shoot" would not be addressed at all in this class. So I spent what turned in to two and a half hours learning how to use a camera that I do not exist. And towards the end of the class, the teacher started asking if anyone was sweating. I broke into a cold sweat just thinking about the air getting cooler.

Melissa later pointed out that I was still severely sun burned from last weekend's Memorial Day beach outing where I skimped and saved on my SPF 70, and now my chest looks like that of a seventy year old's. I think she may have taken some sample pictures in class.

More to come. I just am not ready to get everything else out right now. It's still sprouting from my scalp...

Quote Of The Day

Charleen: "Want to come over and try some cheese stuffed pickles?"

Me: "Yes. You had me at pickles. And also, way before that."

Snapshot

I call them: Blurry, Happy and Blue.

Quote of the Day

Me: "Carrie! Want to punch her!"

Carrie: "Do it! I triple dog dare you."

Me: "I am not Shaun."

Carrie: "But if you look deep inside yourself and work on your acting skills, you can be."

Me: "It probably wouldn't take too much to get into character. A buzzer, some magic markers and a few shots of... testosterone."

Carrie: "Do it!"

Snapshot

Only down South. Even South Jersey. Coffee? Check. Pack of gum? Check. Bag of ice? Check. Infectious disease injection? Check.

I wonder how many 25 cent raise increases the cashiers make once they are certified. Or if the flu shot is a little cheaper if they aren't certified.

Quote of the Weekend

Michael: "Who wants to play a game of 'Guess which kid fell in the lagoon first?"

Testament to 90 Degrees

Carrie: "I walked outside so now I'm swollen from heat and my pants are soooo tight. It hurts."

Me: "Really?"

Carrie: "I told you... I'm huge! I think I have loser jeans in my car. Might have to do a switcheroo."

Me: "Looser* Loser jeans would be even worse."

Snapshot

I could kinda sorta deal with some West Palm Beach action right about now. Where the temperatures outside are something you are prepared for and looking forward to. Just right there would be perfect.

Quote of the Day

Speaking about Mr. Tucker Max:

Carrie: "I'd love to punch that guy in the face... Along with every woman that has slept with him."

Me: "They have been punched by the STD fairy. (Pause) I wanna hang out with him!"

Carrie: "I'm gonna punch you in the face."

Thought of the Day

... I keep catching myself ALMOST belting Jewel out loud this afternoon. And Otis Redding...

Quote of the Day

Me: "It's like finding out that your neighborhood physician is actually Dr. Joseph Mengele working for Hitler herself."

Magic Eyes

Magical Makeup

These make-up artists MAY have one up on me. But let's see how straight their eye liner comes out while bumping down the New Jersey Turnpike on a bus with shoddy shocks. Let's just call it a tie.

Quote of the Day

Scott: "... I would never date me. hahaha. That's horrible."

Snapshot

I have a way with babies. No, really. Every time I've picked up my friend's son, he has shared his disappointment that it's me with flailing arms, instant waterworks and yelling. This weekend, however, we had a breakthrough. Maybe it was because his grandmother had him dressed in sweatpants running around in direct sunlight and heat and he was too dehydrated to think clearly. Maybe it was because I personally handed him a Sprite with a straw. Maybe it's because we played kickcatchfetchball for a few minutes. Really, the only thing I care about was that nobody was around to document it! Hating me or not, is he not one of the cutest kids you've ever seen?

Quote of the Day

R.G.: "Guess I am back on her radar. Bang bang she shot me down."

Pictures Before You Die (Tomorrow)

Everyone is so morbid about the impending END OF THE EARTH day tomorrow. People, have you SEEN the rain this week? It has not stopped. There is no second coming, holy wrath on its way. Mother Nature wants her ozone left alone.

Now that is chanting in my head. "OZONE. Left alone! OZONE. Left alone!" I should really pick up picketing!

This is a great compilation of "32 Pictures To See Before You Die." And if you don't die tomorrow, you may feel the urge to book it to your nearest animal shelter and try to replicate these shots at home. I am looking for Puggle slippers for dogs as I type.

Quote of the Day

Clare: " Just got my lunch I ordered... chocolate chip pancakes...holla..."

It's Raining Commutes

Public Transportation: (pub-lick trahnz-poor-tay-shun) n. 1. The act of submitting to a shared and unreliable schedule to get from starting point to designated end point. End points may shuffle en route depending on additional outside factors. 2. Cesspool that acts as a direct feeding ground for communicable diseases, nauseating odors and wildly unpredictable and uncomfortable personal and environment temperatures. 3. A cruel joke.

My morning's have been filled with delays and issues and unexplained mysteries, all thanks to the NJ Transit system. Well, in fairness, Mother Nature seems to be throwing in some colorful curve balls, and there are always the non-bus driver's looking for their fifteen minutes of car exploding, hair frying, fender bending fame. But I feel like putting blame where blame is due is the easiest way to focus my frustrations. The buses. Instead of speaking in general terms, allow me to be specific.

Monday morning. There is a steady flow of rain outside my window. I dress accordingly, grab my umbrella, and walk over to the bus stop. I am waiting on a fairly open and busy road. A road that I am sometimes so thankful for an ever-present breeze. In increasingly heavy rain, stagnant air still evades this street. Having gotten to the bus stop about ten minutes early, I earnestly hope that my bus will show up within the next ten minutes. I arrive early for no other reason that when I do not, it comes early. Anyone unamused by early arriving buses, feel free to contact and hire me to stand at the bus stop early. It is guaranteed to at least be on time. Monday morning, the bus was 25 minutes late. Thirty five minutes of sideways rain for me. I get on the bus, get one block down, someone gets off, another man gets on, and the bus's engine shuts off. This is new. Everyone is whispering, looking around. The people that naturally turn obviously to stare at every movement or potential movement are darting their heads around so often that I close my eyes. Our bus driver spent a few minutes on the phone, and then instructed all of us to get off of the bus. As we are shuffled out of the warm, muggy, dry bus, we pass by a large black container left on the bus by the person who had left the bus on that stop.

It looked like an old, inexpensive guitar case. But better safe that sorry? Right? Maybe? We walk another block down to wait for a different bus, and after minutes of appearing patient, I brusquely walk past and ahead of the herd. I have seen some of these people on the streets on New York City. Why are you taking baby steps in slow motion? Yes, I am aware that I am walking full speed ahead to more uncovered waiting ground, but certain speeds should be allowed only of the invalid or the drugged. Police cars shut down the main, windy road, and encircled the bus. I later saw the bus drive off, never to be spoken of again. I was probably on it the next morning.

The drive in was as to be expected. Slow, choppy and filled with buses waiting their turn to filter into a single lane. And then, after over 2 hours after I first positioned myself to brace the wind and still have a clear view of oncoming traffic, I arrive on the island of Manhattan. The city that never sleeps. I have heard that lack of sleep can cause serious long-term health risks and immediately short term personality issues. I believe what I have heard to be correct.

As I stepped out of the Port Authority, I was met with a barrage of angry umbrellas. Now, don't allow me to paint this picture of a dainty out-of-towner who couldn't imagine why someone wouldn't hold the door open for me and patiently allow me to open my umbrella. I have no qualms about how to play defense and offense in New York City. But between newly added scaffolding, what can only be described as torrential downpour and, by all appearances, a street filled with tweaking Methamphetamine addicts, I was attacked. Person after umbrella after person slammed into me, including a sweetheart of a man who body slammed me into a pole of scaffolding that shook and dumped water all down my back. I make it "safely" to the street corner. The five by six foot area of concrete on the corner of 40th and 8th Avenue. The corner where everyone who works south and/or east of the Port Authority s forced to push up against each other, I felt an umbrella vying for space with my own.

There are days where I hold my ground based on sheer spite. My umbrella was here first and I don't care that I am sliding on a subway grate right now, I will not relent. This was not one of those mornings. I just had nowhere else to move my umbrella too. There was no visible air space. So I was forced to grip my small umbrellas handle with both hands, shaky arms, and a very shaky sense of patience, while a grown man, with an over sized umbrella pushed into my own. The snap that soon followed was, of course, my own. And as the light turned green, and the pressure relented, water poured directly straight down inches from my face. And because of NYC's anonymity, and its lack thereof here, I will not share the verbal expressions that came out of my very polite mouth. And his only reply? A smirk. Because what is left to be said? I broke your umbrella in the pouring rain and you are looking like you have just went three rounds with Mike Tyson.

More like three transfers with the NJ Transit, buddy.

Quote of the Day

Carrie: "My coffee tastes a little like lemon Pledge."

Aly: "What did I tell you about putting the cleaning products in the fridge? That it can lead to both new and affordable culinary adventures."