carrot sticks of beratement.

nadia and i signed up for the 'self challenge' -- run by self magazine -- in january.
whoever does their internet marketing is on the ball because we receive no less than 4 emails per week with subject lines that read "welcome to week 9 of the self challenge" or "how to serve up the perfect turkey burger" and "an easy way to eat your veggies" (i found that one a bit, um, OBVIOUS.) this would all be well and good had we actually participated in the self challenge, you know, at all. now we feel as though we're being stalked. maybe as punishment. maybe this is how they do it at fat camp. i don't know. i did, however, receive the following email last monday:

"lose the bun with this leafy treat"

now, i'm fairly certain they intended the dual meaning of "lose the bun" (it's actually a recipe for chicken salad - meh - wrapped in lettuce.)
in which case: bravo, self.

but still.
STOP JUDGING.

bliss.

going to the theeee-aaa-tahhh this evening to see a very well-reviewed production of august wilson's gem of the ocean. very excited. theater junkie = me. having dinner with a group of friends prior to that. and prior to that nadia and i are taking advantage of ben & jerry's 'free cone day.'

theater.

wine.

ice cream.

my brain might explode from the fanastic-ness of this evening's activities.
creative & gastronomic bliss.
i'm simultaneously 5 and 55.
i love it.

(yo!)

there's a guy outside on the street (four stories) below my office window having the following conversation (loudly) with himself:

guy: YO!
(pause)
guy: YO! YO! YO! YO!
(pause)
guy: YOOOOOOOOO?
(pause)
guy: YO! YO? YO? YO! YO!
(pause)
guy: YO?

heh.

dog and a beer.

there are few things better than running into someone you know at a hot dog stand, when it's snowing, at two o'clock in the morning.

it's the sanjaya effect.

so as i walked into spot coffee this morning i tripped on some random metal spike attached to a mailbox, fell flat on my face and ripped a big ol' hole in my sneaker. the barista who served me clearly witnessed the event, most likely as i was audibly/loudly cursing said mailbox.

also, kurt vonnegut died. not cool, universe.

also, someone keeps (obnoxiously, incessantly) ringing the office doorbell.

also, there have been two sightings of men wearing orange pants. this is not noteworthy, just fashionably inappropriate. and mean to people with eyes. and people without eyes, as their heightened senses would no doubt alert them to the heinous nature of this act.

best day ever?

it's in the running.

john tierney is my co-pilot.

i tend to like shorter men.
does this make me an aberration of nature...or a relationship philanthropist of sorts?

http://www.nytimes.com/2007/04/10/science/10tier.html?ex=1176868800&en=49cd6fd319ace048&ei=5070

don't cross me.

i sometimes have dreams about ex-boyfriends that look suspiciously like this.
(photo: melissa hom, new york magazine)

chococalypse

there's a half-used, plastic (store-bought) container of chocolate frosting sitting in the refridgerator that i cannot stop thinking about.

countdown to caffeine: less than 3 days

countdown to nervous breakdown and sanity explosion: imminent

(also: i was at work yesterday, proofing a letter that contained the phrase "collaborative partnerships." seriously. my brain imploded.)

all i need are some greek letters and an ego.

drinking beer, making pancakes and watching basketball.
when did i become a frat guy?