Things that I love.

It is not uncommon for me to email witty top ten lists to various friends of mine during the day to entertain myself (it is worth mentioning that I have a close, personal friend who actually contributes to Letterman's Top Ten List on an almost daily basis. I envy her.) More often then not I have many prolific lists about things that I hate. For instance:

To: JG
From: Bloggerita
Subject: My list

of things I hate. In no particular order:

1.) animals licking themselves (such a good call on your part--I used to throw things at my cat and/or dog when it was done in my presence)
2.) women who wear rings on every finger or nearly every finger. It's creepy. Particularly the thumb ring on adults. Why?
3.) people who chew with their mouths open and/or talk with their mouths full
4.) ketchup (closely followed by every other condiment)
5.) diet soda and my social obligation to drink it based on my gender (see the coke zero on my desk despite my desire for a regular cherry coke)
6.) when people say "what" even though they heard you (for instance "Where are you going?" "What? Oh, I'm going to the mall." Why would you say "what" if you heard me?)
7.) If someone interrupts you telling a story and then isn't considerate enough to get back to whatever point you were making prior to the interruption. A courtesy "I'm sorry, you were saying?" should be mandatory with a public stoning as the punishment for all those who fail to comply
8.) Being talked about and or referred to as though you're not in the room (e.g. if I were at a meeting and I heard two supervisors conversing on the point that "the intern drafted a memo on that very topic last week." 1.) I have a name and 2.) I'm sitting right here).
9.) Foreign hairs--I actually borrowed this phobia from a classmate--the more she pointed it out, the more it bothered me. If I can't identify a hair as my own, it makes me want to hurl. If there is hair stuck on the back of your sweater, I want to remove it all because it grosses me out to look at, even though I know it's more likely than not yours.
10.) Girls wearing skirts with leg warmers. They aren't cool now, they never were and if you don't want to be cold WEAR PANTS!

As you'll note, from this list a blog was born. The point is that lists like these take me no time to craft. In fact, I'm almost positive that JG and I exchanged an additional list of ten things we hated that same afternoon.

Now, in an attempt to be somewhat optimistic, I attempted to create a list of things I "love" (I use that term much more loosely than hate, which is actually pretty messed up if you think about it). I started the list a week ago and I just found it in my "drafts" folder in my email. I have copied the list as is to this post, below:

To: JG
From: Bloggerita
Subject: Things I love

in no particular order:

1.) Seeing my name in print. I have saved every name tag that I think I've ever been given that has my name printed out on it, which includes my college orientation name tag. It is 100% guaranteed I'll save a name tag if it's laminated. I have also taken my name plate from prior jobs and plan to do so on the last day of my current place of employment.

2.) Deleting my spam mail file. I find it to be a very gratifying experience to click "delete all messages." Then you get that great message that says "hooray! no spam here!" It's wonderful.

3.) Swings. There is nothing better to sitting on a swing--seesaws are too violent (we've all had that experience when someone jumps off the opposite end prematurely, causing you to plummet and slam your ass into the half of a tire put there by the genius playground contractor who thought that would somehow cushion your fall) and slides are just plain dangerous (who hasn't had their ass scorched on a searing hot slide?)

4.) String cheese. It's one of the greatest snacks ever created. You can't just eat it though, you have to dissect it one string at a time, it's the only way. Some people think it makes them more adult just to go for it (think of Ryan on The Office from The Injury episode). Not so. You're still eating a child's snack so you might as well eat it the right way.

5.) Re-reading my own emails. I find a strange satisfaction in re-reading an email that I've sent out to a friend that I personally felt was witty and humorous. And when I read the email I tend to act like I've never read it before, and laugh at those parts that I find particularly funny. I'm so obnoxious.

That's it. That's as far as I got. And for the record, I added number 5.) just now as I started searching for this very email exchange with JG and got caught up re-reading funny things I had written to her in prior email chains. I can't help that I find myself hilarious. More importantly, how is it I can only think of 5 things that I love, one of which is string cheese?

I think this says a lot about me as a person and I have to admit--it's nothing good.

I'm Leaving on a Jet Plane...

Kudos goes to my friend "JG" who shared this email gem with me, which I will now share with the world and/or the 5 people brave enough to come forward and recognize themselves as "followers" of this blog. I could not have written this better myself. Pure literary magic.

To: Bloggerita
From: JG
Date: Today

My journey back to California was surprisingly smooth and uneventful. Well, except for one thing. I could spare you my moralistic rant on travelling etiquette but (1) that wouldn't be any fun at all, and (2) if anyone in this world will understand me here, it will be you.

So, as you may know, one of the perks of flying Jet Blue is the free in-air satellite cable. It's all real-time, so when I watch Keith Olberman and Rachel Maddow on MSNBC, I'm watching the same show as the same time that everyone down on earth is watching. It's pretty glorious. Now, I understand that political talk shows – especially uber-liberal shows like Olberman and Maddow – are not everyone's cup of tea. In fact, I realize that on a flight to Oakland, the tea of choice is most likely going to be the 49ers game. Fine. Ok. The beauty of personal TV screens and individualized sound systems is that I need not force Olberman on everyone in my row, and in turn I can expect that the testosterone-oozing segment of the plane will refrain from thrusting body-slamming overweight men on steroids upon me.

But no. See, the thing about armchair football is that the fans themselves feel the need to participate – to sweat and yell and hit things at various points in the game. Which is totally acceptable and, in fact, part of the fun of sports, when such sweating and yelling and hitting things takes place in a stadium or even the comfort of your own laz-e-boy. If you want to risk choking on seven-layer dip to cuss out a bad call, far be it from me to stop you – so long as you're holding your sticky plastic cup of Coors in section D of an outdoor stadium and not seat 27A of a 747.

But unless the pilot has just announced that, no, we're not going to crash into a mountain after all, an airplane is no place for spontaneous eruptions of applause. I don't want to hear your boos and hisses if it is not a direct response to Sally Stewardess charging $15 a peanut. Save your play-by-play for the field, kids, because on a six-hour flight I want to be able to doze off without being rudely awoken by the collective shouts of angry frat boys.

The only, I repeat ONLY time it is EVER acceptable to wake me up on a plane is if it is on fire. Even then, you'd better be sure there's something I can do about it, because if given the choice I'd rather than go up in flames asleep than in an irritated panic. It's not ok to tap my shoulder to see if I want to pay a dollar for flimsy headphones. It's not ok to stumble over me because you were too slow to request the aisle seat and now realize that downing 5 cups of free coffee is inevitably going to make you rush to the bathroom. Do not hit me with your snack cart. Don't point out cloud patterns like you're a weatherman and I care. And DO NOT , I repeat, DO NOT put your hands together in applause that registers on the Richter scale because the 49ers got a second down. It will anger me.

The problem, of course, is that if I say anything to anyone about how horribly rude it is to treat Jet Blue flight 1252 like it's Candlestick Park then I become the soulless bitch who can't just let the boys have their fun. So I'm forced to resort to completely ineffective passive-aggressive measures like the quarter-turn/ half-turn/ whole turn, and the "accidentally" whacking fans on the head as I stumble in a sleepy stupor to the WC. The latter measure – whacking fans on the head – is vaguely gratifying, but in the end what I really want is for these people to know how wrong and rude they are. As is the case with most things in life, however, the clueless offensive people get to go on being clueless and offensive while the rest of us have to suffer in quasi silence. (I say quasi not only because of my passive-aggressiveness, but also because I clearly derive some joy from ranting to you.)

Moral of the Story? People who make excessive noise on airplanes – including football fans and babies (I'll spare you my diatribe on travelling babies for another time) should be shot. If Jet Blue feels that execution is too severe for rowdy passengers, at the very least they should hook their TVs up to some sort of a shock system. My dog used to have a collar that zapped him every time he barked too loudly; I have absolutely no qualms with using the same technology on flights.

When it Rains, it Pours.

The MBTA is worse in the rain for all of the following reasons:

1. It never operates according to it's normal pace and/or schedule when its raining (it essentially operates in reverse) and thus it makes everyone late. This makes for infinitely more people waiting for the train on the platform when you arrive, even if you arrive at your normal time. This is true of traffic in Boston as well. It's always worse in the rain. Rain actually generates traffic in the Commonwealth, but that's a theory for another day.
2. You are wet upon entering the train.
3. Puddles = wet feet = complete misery for all those like me who didn't get a seat this morning and just stood there. With wet feet.
4. The windows fog up from the humidity generated from all of the wet people crammed inside the train.
5. Rain jackets trap in body heat and lead to excessive sweating and overheating.
6. Everyone is carrying a wet umbrella and they feel the need to either shake it out on your legs or hold it so it drips for the entire ride onto your ankles /feet / legs. And if it's not dripping its pressed up against you because the person carrying it doesn't want to put it in their bag and risk getting anything wet, especially their blackberries. God forbid.
7. The train moves at a pace which I could exceed on a unicycle between every single stop thus further elongating my personal misery.
8. For anyone that owns a pet which sheds, the instant one's coat covered in pet hair gets wet, one then smells like a wet animal. This is unpleasant for everyone around that individual, including me. Who wants to barf on you.
9. Upon exiting said T station, people feel the need to carry golf umbrellas which could adequately provide coverage to an Asian family of 11. This makes it impossible to pass said pedestrian without fear of losing an eye from the spokes. And for anyone else carrying an umbrella that needs to pass such a person, forget it. You're screwed.
10. I am prone to higher levels of irritation and sensitivity to stupidity just by virtue of the fact that it's raining. This makes all 9 of the above-mentioned reasons significantly worse and more irritating to me.

Have you seen my pants?

As a brief side note to today's long overdue post, I think that this cartoon perfectly encapsulates one of my major grievances against heavy breathers--their insistence on doing so in my presence. Many thanks to Lowen for bringing this to my attention today via email. There is nothing worse than having a person hovering over you on the T, or anywhere really, breathing down your neck causing your hair to sway in the breeze. What is wrong with breathing strictly through the nose? I had a classmate that I used to refer to as Darth Vader based on how loud she breathed throughout class. No idea what her real name is.


The main problem that I have become all to aware of lately when walking through the streets of Boston that I find particularly troubling and noteworthy of comment: leg warmers. What the HELL is wrong with people? Leg warmers were NEVER cool. Sure, maybe if you're a ballerina and you require warmth on your legs--maybe. I imagine a tutu doesn't offer up much warmth. I suspect this is how the monstrosity that is leg warmers came into being and in fact, I just verified it on Wikipedia. But in this day and age I think people should be smart enough to identify and locate PANTS. We have warm ups, sweatpants, capris, and dare I even suggest it-- leggings. There is really no need for the gaudy awfulness of leg warmers. Is keeping your calves warm really going to make a difference? No, jackass. Just wear a hat if you're so concerned with losing body heat. If I see one more set of leg warmers prancing around the city, I swear I am going to lose my shit. Even if we put aside the sheer ridiculousness of what some might call a "fad" (I would feel more comfortable categorizing it as a social crisis), the most important thing to note is that it's not that friggin' cold out yet. If you're from New England, you know better. This is nothing. There has been one day that was particularly cold in the city in recent weeks that I can think of offhand and even then, it didn't warrant leg warmers. In fact, arctic temperatures don't warrant legwarmers. If your legs are cold WEAR PANTS, moron.