June 1
We are in the midst of playing the game gimme that bone. It's great fun. I give him a big marrow bone, wait till he's settled down chewing it, and then pretend to take it from him, saying, as you might have surmised "gimme that bone!" over and over. He goes insane growling and snapping and bearing his teeth at me. The funny thing is, he won't play it with Nick. It's OUR special game. Ahh...doggie love..
The News:
Wow. I didn't intend to be gone for quite so long. I got into this crazy schedule of working out and came home most nights too tired to sit in front of the computer for an extended period of time. Okay, that's all lies. I'd come home and plant myself in front of the machine, but didn't update. I am bad. Bad, bad bad. I meant to write. I thought of writing. I saved up funny things to write about, even, but then just didn't. Alas. Spank me, I've been naughty.
You'll notice that I did say I'd gotten into a crazy schedule of working out. You'll also recall me mentioning I had some news, right? Well, okay. One of my readers wrote me about my 30 things I'd like to do before I'm 30 list, and she suggested a brilliant way to do things number 3, 5, 13 & 18. Brilliant way: Boston to NY AIDSride.
It's a 3 day bike ride starting in Boston, tooling through Rhode Island and Connecticut and ending up at some big party in New York. Three days, 275 miles. After about 10 minutes speculation and the not so difficult task of convincing my friend William to join me, I signed our asses up. (Note: no, not just our asses, our everythings. I very possibly signed away our sanity..)
I've waited to mention it for a few days because I wanted to make sure our registration went through and all that jazz. Now that it's official, I bring it up because I'm hitting all of you up for donations the moment I have a rider number. I (and William..) need to raise $1700 dollars to even be able to ride. I'm counting on all of you to help me out here. 275 miles is a fucking huge amount.
It's so early in the summer, I'm still at the stage of being totally flabbergasted at how long that is. 275 miles. It's 90 to my house in Brooklyn. It's about 570 to the Outer Banks. We will be riding halfway to North Carolina, for Christ's sake. But, whatever. We can do it. Oh, yes.
I've started this insane lifting/gym thing. Lifting 3-4 times a week, aerobic 5-6. I've started riding my bike, a little bit, as I mentioned, but was waiting for the ass terror to abate before I hopped back on. Anyhow, I'll have a rider number before next week, and I'll be posting the link for on-line sponsoring. Help a sister out here, folks. It's for a good cause. Plus, I'm going to pimp it (sound familiar?) until you're so tired of reading about it, you'll pledge just to shut me the fuck up.
Work:
1.
Okay, which one of you snuck in in the middle of the night and deleted BS's bookmarks one at a time? When she came in this morning every single bookmark was gone! As you well know, if a person is looking to delete your bookmarks, they can't just select a big old bunch of them and dump them. Nope, they have to spend hour after devious hour, plotting and deleting them one at a time! Scoundrel! When she came in and found the bookmarks missing, she wouldn't come out and ask anyone, out loud, what had happened, oh no. That would be too simple. She ambushed all of the people from her lab one at a time as they walked through the door and whispered what happened in their ear.
About an hour later, when no one fessed up, and she wouldn't accept that it was a mere computer glitch (which, by the way, has happened on that machine before) and was at the end of her rope, she rose from her seat and said "Dana, will you ask your husband* what would make hundreds of bookmarks just disappear? Would you ask him why someone would delete them one at a time?"
I tried to explain my whole computer-based error theory, but she was having none of it. "One at a TIME! Can you believe it? Why would someone delete them one at a time?" It was the hot topic of conversation for the rest of the day, except for, of course, her Sickness. She has such a bad cold, and she just doesn't shake things the way other people do. Her Sickness turned (as they all seem) to laryngitis. Laryngitis? Well, holy fucking shit! She went flying off to the doctor (this, mind you, after harassing him for a full week on the phone) for a lung scan or an MRI or some other retarded test that will report results of NOTHING.
*Instead of calling Nick Nick, like a normal person, whenever she wants me to ask him something, or whenever she refers to him, she calls him "your husband". "What does your husband think of that?" "How does your husband like his new job?"
2.
I've talked a lot about Igor, the obnoxious lab guy, how he lurches around and asks me for ridiculous stuff in a weird accent? ALL FREAKING WEEK he's been harassing me to get him a blood donor and all freaking week I've made it perfectly clear to him that I have no money to pay a donor. "So, when? Can you get me one tomorrow?" "No, see, tomorrow, I will have NO MONEY." "So, tomorrow?" "Um...no. I won't have any money." "Umm...", ad nauseum.
Today, he caught me as I was running out to lunch. "So...Dana. Can you find me a blood donor for tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow? You BET! Of course! What time?"
"About 11?"
"11? Sure! No problem!!"
He felt happy because he'd finally managed to get me to do something for him. Ah, yes, all except for the fact that I'm off tomorrow, and finding him a blood donor will be about the last thing on my mind.
Take a ride with me down the passive aggressive highway, won't you? It was a shitty thing to do, yes, but fuck him. He's a pain in my ass. Be nice to your administrator else you'll never get anything, ever.
3.
Lab Person with an M.D.: Dana...the password for Eudora doesn't work on the lab machine!!
Dana: Which lab machine, the G4?
Lab Person with an M.D.: Yes! The G4! It won't take my password, and other people have told me the same thing, that it doesn't work!
Dana: You can't use Eudora at all, you're saying?
Lab Person with an M.D.: No! Not at all! It gives me an error message!!
Dana: What does the error message say?
Lab Person with an M.D.: It says that it won't take my password!
Dana: And this is the lab mail account?
Lab Person with an M.D.: Yes!! Yes!! Bmail@monolith.edu! It won't take the password!
Dana: In Eudora?
Lab Person with an M.D.: YES, IN EUDORA!!
Dana: Well, Lab Person with an M.D., that might be because Eudora isn't the email package set up on that machine. That particular machine is Netscape mail.
Lab Person with an M.D.: Net----are you sure??
Dana: Uh-huh. Netscape. Not Eudora.
Lab Person with an M.D.: Well, I'm going to go check! I'll be back! I'm sure it's Eudora!
Did I hear about it again? What do you think?
Etc.:
So, since I'm being all healthy and in training and whatnot, I've really made a diligent effort to cut out a lot of shit from my diet. With this in mind, I went to the supermarket the other day (after the gym, mind you. It seemed a little strange to be mentally composing a shopping list while I was on the Stairmaster, otherwise known as the Bane of My Ass, Sweatmaster and How is it Fucking Possible I've Been on this Thing for a Full Half Hour on Level 5, Dying and yet I've only Burned 150 Calories?).
I'm walking around the supermarket, picking out healthy, low carb, low fat, low calorie foods, calm as you please, reading labels ("Mmm! Fat free pudding!") when I see it. It, placed carelessly underneath the spray butter (which I grab. Shut up, don't laugh at me. It's good) and next to the Parkay. Brummel and Brown's newest product:
Fruit Flavored Spread.
Dear lord. Strawberry Butter. I paused for about 1/100,000 of a second before reasoning "it's got fruit in it, that's good for me!!" and throwing it into my cart.
It may prove to be my undoing.
The rest of the time I spent in the market with the absolute knowledge that before anything else, this spread would be tasted. I considered the various ways I'd be able to enjoy it. Pita bread? Bagel? Cracker? Smeared onto my fingers and licked off? Oh, so very, very wrong.
I've talked about my bagel love before. I don't know that I've talked about what kind of bagels I like: salt, with strawberry creamcheese. My favorite meal. I could eat 7 of them. I could eat them and eat them until my lips swell from the salt and the sweetness of the cream cheese makes my teeth hurt. I love strawberry cream cheese with a ferocity one wouldn't normally associate with food, and that's sad.
Strawberry BUTTER? Holy shit.
I brought it home and managed to get the groceries put away and dinner started before opening it, though I could hear it in the fridge calling. "Dana! Yo! Check this shit out! I'm berry berry good! Eat me!"
It was every bit as wonderful and evil as I'd imagined it was going to be. Moreso. Wow.
And In Conclusion:
I am absolutely off tomorrow, and we're going down the shore* this weekend to visit my mom, which ought to be good, because I am absolutely ready for beach.
*Down The Shore=Going to the Jersey Shore to any of the dozens of little beach towns along the Atlantic. I happen to adore that expression and am thrilled when I get to use it every year. I'm all about the Jersey Shore, to tell you the truth. I lose my mind in beach towns. Something about boardwalks and sea spray..
Next week, Nick's mom and dad are coming for a visit, so in preparation for it, I have a bitchslap of cleaning to do tomorrow. I can not promise that I'll actually do any of it, just that I know I ought to. I have a bunch of errands to run. First and most important: Buy helmet.
I want to be your Saturday, your sunrise, in an empty space
Keep you to your lazy ways, dream late
A love affair, an end too soon, swept away,
and left unused I want to see, if you’re amused
Or alive
Walking round the tower of love
Stuck on the ground
I can’t climb up seems like every time I look up
Rain’s coming down
Storm clouds above
I want to sleep beside you now,
and leave behind the world without
Deep inside and there’s none to count or untie
I want to be the one you break, and take you to the higher place
Just believe and I can make you fly
Walking round the tower of love stuck on the ground
I can’t climb up
Seems like every time I look up
Rain’s coming down
Storm clouds above
What is done can keep you down, and only love can turn around
And yesterday won’t make a sound as you climb
