AndreaUrJoking

Come out to the iAdventure International Food Truck and Beer Festival on Sunday, you say?  It will be fun and delicious, you say?

Things are good.  Vegas was great.  New gig is a ton of fun.  Personal life is blissful.  Lost weight.  Then BOOM – you wake up with a big gigantic cold sore on the upper right corner of your lip and your whole entire face looks that of a victim.  A victim of what?  I don’t know exactly.  It just looks like I’ve been victimized, ok?

When I was younger and didn’t get cold sores on my poor lip, I thought they were utterly disgusting and that the people who got them had to be the dregs of society. Now that I am the (un)proud owner of my very own strain of this little bastard, I feel the same.  No, I don’t believe I am classified as a “dreg” but for a few days each year, when this little fucker bashes its ugly stick upon my face, I believe I may look like one and that displeases me infinitely.  I try hard to be the complete and total opposite of a dreg – now, that matters not.  I look like one and there is nothing that I can do about it.

Am I under stress?   Am I sick?  Is anything wrong?  Nope.  I’m fine and dandy and that’s why this has happened.  I finally unclench and a plague upon my face is the result.  Doesn’t this mongrel understand that my face is my money maker?  I’m in Sales in NY-fucking-C and I can’t have a deformity of this magnitude living on my face.  What, am I supposed to go on meetings wearing a burqa, or maybe just a Hannibal Lecter mask?  Surely that will shift attention from my growth to my… mental state!

GAH!  I hate this.  I hate that this is my future and that there is nothing I can do to make it go away.  Clearly venting about it will just bring everyone’s eyes to my lips (which are ordinarily super awesome, I’ll have the record show) but I don’t care.  Anger must be channeled and so here you have it.  My first blog in a month and it’s all about my cold sore.  Carry on and happy dining.

I have been blue lately.  I have been really fucking upset and sad and I can’t shake it.  I’ve also been extremely stressed and pissed off and confused and all of that shittiness that comes with life sometimes.  Thank God for my friends and for their patience.  I have been a bit much lately and they rock!

Today, I cried in yoga!  I actually cried at the end of class like a fucking dick but, thankfully, I could blame it on the sweat.  Then I took a Soul Cycle class and something hit me… When you feel like crap that’s been stepped on and tracked down Fifth Avenue and then run over by a cab, get some sweat in your eyes!  Work it out, push your body, forget your shit and give it up to the yoga or spin class for however long you are there and it will make things better.

I’m SOOO not a work out freak.  I’m eating cheese and crackers and a hot dog right now.  But I swear it worked.  That’s my new motto!

“Get some sweat in your eyes”, says the Korean Jewish Ninja.

Also, look at this shit!  I did these poses today.  Looks like anger and confusion *can* manifest into positive energy when channeled properly.  So kiss my arse, you nay sayers… I did crow and side crow and it came from sheer anger.

I accept many things about myself, both good and bad.  I accept that I get upset too quickly about unimportant things and that I react too fast and judge too harshly.  I also know that I’m smart and reliable and I have pretty hair (thank you LifeBooker and keratin treatments!).

That being said, I do not accept Time Warner Cable.  What a bullshit operation!  Their product sucks, their service sucks and they are too expensive.  I’m going with Verizon Fios.  Fuck Time Warner Cable.  I came home today after being gone a few days and my cable is not working.  Yes, my bill is paid; no, I didn’t unplug anything and reattach it wrong.  Now I have to wait all day today for someone to call me to tell me when a technician can come over to fix this thing when nothing happened that should have impacted my service in the first place.  They originally told me that they couldn’t be here till Thursday but I called complaining and was told that the first woman gave me wrong information.  The net/net is that they are coming to fix this issue sometime between now and 7pm EST.

It amazes me how many customer service reps are paid real American dollars to service me, the paying consumer, and then proceed to give me blatantly false information.

Another example… I got hurt at the NYSC on West 73rd Street last month.  Their spin bikes are shit and the bracket became loose on the bike I was riding and I twisted my knee.  Since mid-February I have been trying to reach the gym manager to see if the bikes have been serviced and specifically if the clips have been tightened but I have not gotten a response from him.  Also, March and April dues were not supposed to be deducted from my account as a sort of “make good”… they were.  Not only is this gym unclean, not only was I *for real* injured while going there, not only was I charged for March when I was not supposed to be, but additionally, the manager has not returned one of my calls since I hobbled over there to do him a favor and sign an incident report, something the kid at the front desk should have done the night of the incident but neglected to do.

As I am writing this blog, I was on the phone with the manager of NYSC.  He claims that the bikes were serviced and he is sorry he didn’t inform me sooner.  He also said that he never got a single message I left for him at the front desk – another issue, no?  And did I mention that he was “in a meeting” until I told the kid at the desk I would be calling Town Sports International to report him for not returning my calls and being unhelpful?  Yeah, that happened.  And then Mr. Manager got on the phone wit da swiftness!

I am seriously considering dropping NYSC entirely and joining Equinox.  They are close to my spin studio and my yoga studio and the facility looks gorgeous.  Maybe slummin’ it is something I should consider NOT doing.  It just sucks because I have a couple of friends who work at NYSC and I do not want it to look like a reflection on them.  They are actually the sole reason I have not told the manager to take his two months on the house and shove it up his pee hole.

Which brings me to March Madness.  I’m sorry – I just don’t get it.  There are so many teams and brackets and divisions and players… it’s mind boggling.  The only teams I know I’m probably supposed to support are Temple, Duke, FSU, Maryland and Georgia Tech but I don’t even know if they are all playing.  Is Gonzaga in it this year?  Are they doing well?  Where is Gonzaga?  I have no idea where the campus is but I know I like their name.  Go team!

Maybe this week is off for me because the Ides of March is approaching.  It could also be that I lost my mind a little from a morning lacking television entertainment combined with half and half that spoiled two weeks too early.  Anyway you slice this thing, it’s a good thing that punching people in the face and shoving babies is illegal.  I would totally take advantage of those activities if the law didn’t prohibit such behavior.

Oh New York City, how you fool me into loving you and then present me with “men” in ear muffs!

And “men” with jewelry on their shoesies.

And “men” who get their nails done and don’t wear socks and who have fancier computer bags than most women have regular purses and whose scarfs are the color of the onesies I recently bought my 4 month old niece.

New York City – you are so amazing.  You are the center of the world but have an uncanny ability to take the spine out of men and insert cooked pasta in its place.  You make people feel bad because they can’t afford designer toilet paper but lead people to believe that Kenneth Cole Reaction is couture.  You bleed people financially but have high earners living as freegans because it’s the trendy thing to do.  Meanwhile those same people detest the homeless and do nothing to help them, not even donate their used clothing.  You have women that are so independent that men think it’s ok to “forget” to open doors or pull out chairs.

It is such a joke.

Here’s a secret.  You don’t have to be all that talented or bold to live and work in this city.  There is no trick or work ethic that paves the way.  You just have to delude yourself into thinking that there is something special here, something that makes all of the dirt and coldness and impersonal relationships worthwhile.  I’m so sick of being here it’s laughable but the catch 22 is where else would I go that wouldn’t bore me to tears?  New York City, I hate you!

#GetMeOutOfNYC

Ok, I love you everyone but those of you out there who say that global warming is a government-made farce to keep the brains of the little people in check must be kidding.  It must be some elaborate joke that I’m not aware of because human beings in the year 2011 are not still that stupid… are they?  This October snow is not a sign of global warming not existing; nor is the presence of penguins, ice cubes, polar bears (whose habitats are, in fact, melting!), iced mud slides, barnacles, Wonder Bread, beer, PWT on Maury or hang nails.

Other musings… There should be an Adults Only section at IHOP.  I love their potatoes (nom nom nom) but those screaming little idiots really should be put into another section along with their parents.  Like duh, it’s not a fine freaking dining establishment but the deliciousness of my potatoes is inversely effected (affected? – sue me for not knowing) by the increased volume of the imps.  I know, I know.  When I’m a parent I will understand.  Whatever.  You know what?  No I won’t.  How can I be so frickin’ sure?  Because I know me and I know that if my child were acting like a bonobo I’d take the child outside and threaten to take whatever it holds dear away for the rest of its life.  I would not sit idly by and let my cretin ruin the mornings of perfect strangers by actin’ a fool.  I have too much pride.   I was also raised properly and I know parents who raise their little children properly.  Maybe that’s the difference.

Or maybe it’s IHOP.

What else?  I saw a kid the other day who looked just like her ugly mother.  I felt bad for her.  She really has no hope of growing up pretty and we all know – especially with girls – it really isn’t what’s on the inside that counts.  Unless she’s smart like Steve Jobs.  That’s her poor fate.  We know no one is going to be smart like Steve Jobs in the coming years and certainly not some homely monster child whose future obesity has been clenched by her current obesity.  Parents should really try to feed their kids healthy foods.

LET’S GO JETS!

OMG!  GRRRR!  It’s Tuesday morning, aka Monday Part II, and I’m in my regular place getting my regular eggs because it’s a regular day.  I’m wearing brown sandals, a blue skirt and a white racer back tank – nothing special.  Anyhoo, I’m standing by the counter waiting for my Spanish omelette with hash browns and turkey bacon when I feel someone brush up against me from behind.  It didn’t grab my rear or anything but it was close enough to make my pony tail swing as it passed.  Then… I hear it.

“You look great today,” it said.

Already disgusted because I am certain Bruce Springsteen does NOT frequent my morning breakfast establishment, I turn to see a milky white old geezer, donning a cum colored sport jacket, olive khakis, a non-descript button down, no tie, and one of those bald heads that glistens in the morning sun (picture that head to the right, just balder).  AND THEN HE SMILES!

Never speak to me, sir.  Never!  Don’t even speak to me to tell me that Bin Laden #2 is behind me and is about to rape and pillage my body in the name of whatever the hell they claim they do shit in the name of.  Don’t talk to me if there is a man behind me carrying gasoline and pliers wearing a shirt that says “Hunting my next victim”.  Do not address me if Voldemort is behind me wielding the Elder Wand!  Never speak to me… NEVER EVER SPEAK TO ME ABOUT ANYTHING EVER.

I am feeling dirty right about now and I can’t help but hope that I see him spewed on 8th Avenue in a pile of mess and spittle.  Is that wrong?  Is it bad that I really hope his tongue falls out of his skull and a pigeon carries it away and drops into the Hudson never to be found again?  How bad is it that I am hoping he is on HRT (hormone replacement therapy) because his penis and balls were cut off in a mechanical mishap when he was younger thus making him unable to reproduce and generate his own testosterone?

Honestly, I could give a rat’s genitalia if I’m right or wrong in this case because nothing I hope will have any impact on this scumbag’s daily life.  Therefore, in closing, I will say this… I hope Mr. Cialis has a great day today starting with his denture cream, going through his probiotic yogurt and bran muffin breakfast, into his mid morning Ensure, leading up to a heart healthy lunch that is low in cholesterol yet high in taste, followed by his afternoon dose of meds taken on a full stomach, rolling into a high fiber supper filled with soft and creamy foods since the dentures are now out, and finally finishing with an evening Ensure and a rough game of Wheel of Fortune.

Good day, sir.

I have a fear that I’m going to burst into flames while running errands at lunch today… either that or melt like the Wicked Witch.

I have a fear that this is Ex Week since I saw one on Sunday and another last night.

I have a fear I’m going to spend a lot of money at the craps table.  I don’t even know how to play!

I have a fear that someone is going to send me an important text but my real phone is at home and I will miss it.

I have a fear that one day I will push a disabled person up the steps at 35th and 8th.  It nearly happened today.  Those steps always smell like human piss and today some slow person was holding up the group.  I inhaled through my mouth and I could taste the piss in the air.  I got mad and fantasized about pushing this person, saw she was disabled, and didn’t care.

I have a fear I’m going to wind up in Hell.

Just in walking to get lunch I saw a flatso, passed a non-homeless woman who stunk like a homeless man, was shoved by a non-English speaking monster, got attitude from a girly gay with a ‘tude like JLo, called three drivers “assholes” because they were blocking the intersections, got cat-called by freaks and degenerates, and felt compelled to push a fat retarded man who growled at me in front of a truck… but I didn’t and that’s all that matters.

Happy Hump Day!