Thursday, February 25, 2010

Begging for a Snow Day and What I Ate

It is miserable outside.  There is just too much rain mixed in with our snow, and therefore my snow-loving self doesn't know what to think.  I can't bring myself to open up my umbrella, since it's snow, and (being a good Midwesterner) I mock those who use umbrellas in the snow -- yet, I keep getting soaking wet.  That said, our office manager at work keeps talking about how he doesn't think we'll be here much longer, and perhaps tomorrow will have to be a snow day, etc.  While he has no authority over such things, he is GETTING MY HOPES UP, so all I can do is plan how much wine I want to drink with dinner and think about sleeping in.  Sigh.

Last night I went to the gym, and since the upright bikes were all taken, I used one of the bikes where you pedal out in front of your body.  I've read up on the comparisons between the two styles, and apparently they're pretty similar effectiveness-wise, though it seems easier to do the one where you're more relaxed with a backrest, so therefore I think it's less of a workout.  But I made do, and I have decided that my butt feels decidedly exercised, so perhaps there are butt benefits to that style.  I need to pump up my butt -- if you've seen it, you know I'm dealing with a sort of flat/heart-shaped box o' chocolates back there.  (EW, that just got grosser than I meant it.) 

Tonight Mex is coming over for dinner, and I bought a ton of meat on sale at the grocery store last night, so we'll be having $2.19/lb London Broil with baked sweet potatoes and salad.  And wine, maybe a lot.  I've been marinating the steak overnight in garlic, worcestershire, salt, pepper, rosemary, and dijon all mixed together, so I think it'll be delicious.  And not terribly bad for me with the health benefits of a sweet potato and salad greens, yes?  I will also have to talk to him about my ending tolerance for this stage of our situation, so I hope that goes OK.  I feel all mad, which you know, happens, but I can't exactly unleash a tirade, as that will be very unreasonable and unproductive.  And then we will watch ladies' hockey, or as he called it, "US Canada chick-fairy hockey."  It's a joke, so don't be offended.

Oh, so those of you who know me well know that I read Gawker obsessively.  It's my go-to blog, but I tried to give them a "tip" today and I think I'm getting into a fight* with another commentor (I keep wanting to say commentator, which is more fun.)  I will reproduce the exchange for your benefit, though it's not for those with delicate sensibilities:

ME: I am way behind the times on this, but thought it a bit curious: Pre-Precious release, I read the NY Mag review of it which said that the mother genitally fingered the daughter. Based on that mental image, I declined to see the movie, finding it too disturbing. However, a friend finally saw it last night and informed me that there wasn't any shown fingering -- there was only implied sexual abuse by the mother. Why report it if it's not true?

OTHER COMMENTOR: You are expecting a screenplay to be a documentary?

ME: When the review said "She’s also sexually molested by her jealous, welfare-cheating, gross, and sedentary mother, although the genital fingering might seem preferable to the verbal and physical abuse," I thought it would be shown. I'm not criticizing the movie; I'm saying I was perhaps dissuaded from seeing it because of the review. I take it you find my discomfort at seeing such imagery to be backwoods, so I can only wish you well on your quest for incestual pornographic imagery. To each his/her own.

I mean, COME ON, leave me alone, too-cool-for-school internet person.  Though I realize I asked for it by trying to participate.  I should remember my late-high-school mantra:  don't participate.

In other great news, I was chatting with Blackbeard a few minutes ago.  One of the bosses here is named Ian, and often callers will ask me if it's pronounced Eye-an or Eee-an.  So I asked Blackbeard if he's ever knew of an Eye-an, because really, that's silly, and he said "Well, other than that Ian guy from 90210..." and he melted my heart EVEN MORE.  I was visibly excited that he referenced Ian Ziering.  I mean, it's clear we're soulmates, yes?  Maybe every time we have an awkward conversation, he's as upset about it as I am.  It's so romantic.

Anyway, clearly I'm avoiding this Excel spreadsheet like the plague.  I've been wondering today what the maximum row limit of an Excel spreadsheet is -- does anyone know?  I like to believe that it goes on for infinity (which is something I should discuss with Mex, the master of infinity theory), but I doubt that's realistic.  The real question is, has anyone ever reached the end?!

Oh, another charming thing today was that I overheard a UPS delivery man trying to quickly explain Lost to an office building super.  It was clearly too difficult of a task, so he gave up, but the conversation went something like this:

UPS guy: Did you see Lost last night, man?
Super: No, I can't keep up with that sh*t.  Didn't they crash on an island?
UPS guy: Well, yeah, but it's much more than that.
Super: What do you mean?  Why doesn't someone come and rescue them at the end?
UPS guy: Let's put it this way:  The island is alive.
Super: With what?!  Monsters?  Animals?
UPS guy: Spirits, man.  That's all I can say.  Right?
[At this point he knew I was listening and smiling, so he tapped my arm, looking for affirmation.  I gave it.]

Ok, ok, food:
B - coffee, Special K cereal, skim milk (5)
L - low-salt turkey and muenster on sandwich thin, L&T, Miracle Whip light and mustard; apple (5)
D - steak; sweet potato; salad with tomatoes, cukes and feta (?)
S - Dannon Light & Fit yogurt (1); granny bar (2); wine (?)
Total - a little extra
Activity - crying and/or cuddling

*This "fight" may only be in my head.  What do you think?

No comments:

Post a Comment