Pigeon Proof

I pigeon proofed my apartment this afternoon. It didn't take long. I just had to close my windows.

Ruminations

Ever since high school my skinny thighs have been overshadowed by my larger torso. My attempts to become more proportionate have included leg lifts, running, paddle boat rides, and a five-minute roller blade adventure.

In order to rectify this problem of proportionality I've decided to have stomachs implanted in each thigh. If the surgery is successful, then I will be able to disrobe after a big dinner and present a bulging upper stomach and massive thighs.

Move

I thought about picking up and heading west a few months ago - staying in Manhattan, of course, but moving from 1st Ave. to 2nd Ave. The decision to move or stay was a difficult one.

The push to move was related to my erratic behavior. Over the past two years I've managed to cycle through a number of local restaurants. My life has been like Morgan Spurlock's series "30 Days" with a twist. Spurlock immerses himself in a community or a job for 30 days. I, on the other hand, visit the same restaurant for a 30 day period, build up a rapport with the staff, exchange names and stories, and try different dishes. I get to know the prices of each day's special and the schedule of each worker. By day 10 I start to smell like my favorite dishes. Around day 20 the restaurant begins to stock more of the items that I prefer. At day 30 I stop going to the restaurant, stop looking into its window, and stop walking down its street. I've done this to so many restaurants that it's now hard to find a street in my neighborhood to walk down.

The pull to stay in my apartment also has to do with my erratic behavior. I have accumulated large quantities of smoked herring, toilet paper, and sponges since I moved to NYC, and I'm not sure these items will fit into a smaller apartment. I should explain. This past year I had a crush on a cashier at a local grocery store. Each time I went to the store I bought items, so I could talk to her. Because the store has a limited selection, I ended up purchasing the same items each time--smoked herring, toilet paper, and sponges. The crush disappeared, but I can still see the cans of smoked herring-- I can't close my kitchen cabinet, because of all the items that I've purchased at the grocery store.

I'm not going to move, but I need to buy a metro pass so I can find new restaurants. I need to stop going to the poorly stocked grocery store, rethink the way I interact with women I have crushes on, and reduce the number of staple items in my apartment to more normal levels- at least so I can close my kitchen cabinet. As a way to reduce the "staples" to a more manageable number I'm thinking about throwing a theme party that incorporates smoked herring, toilet paper, and sponges. I know it depends on the theme but would anyone like an invite?

Comfort Foods

Comfort foods over time:
age 5 to 18- white toast, sometimes buttered and sometimes not
19 to 24- baked beans and grilled cheese
25 to 28- taco salad with an entire can of refried beans, sour cream, a few lettuce leaves, cheese, and salsa
29 to 31- miso soup, green tea, and sometimes ice cream
32 to today - whatever has the most antioxidants

On the Air Drum...

A man in his late 30's air drummed to C & C Music Factory's "Gonna Make You Sweat (Everybody Dance Now)" at the gym today. He made perfect time to the song that played through the mounted speakers. He remembered back to the night he danced the sweaty dance to the C & C song at a downtown club in 1990. "Gonna Make You Sweat" reminded the air drummer of Tone Loc's "Funky Cold Medina", another song that he danced to that night. Two days after he danced to Loc's song he added "1990: Participated in the hip-hop movement" to the "Qualifications" section on his resume. I assume that he wanted a job at Rolling Stone.

Aside: I have no problem with a public air drum. My problem is that C & C's producers had someone program the drumming sequence, so in order to be true to the song, the man at the gym should have been pounding imaginary keys, not imaginary drum skin. I should have said something.

Cherry Tree and The Communion

When George Washington was about 6 years old he chopped down his father's favorite cherry tree. When confronted by his father George admitted to the act. George's father was so upset that he knocked out George's teeth and had the local dentist make wooden teeth out of the dead cherry tree for George.

What's the moral of the story? Not sure.

I took communion when I was six. I was with older friends. They were regular church goers. It was my first time. I knew that I wasn't supposed to go with them when they joined the communion line, but I was curious. The priest was curious too, but he gave me the wafer when I told him that I had taken communion before.

My parents confronted me the next day outside our trailer. They wanted to know if I had taken communion. I said no but then started crying. My parents told me that a girl from the neighborhood had told them what had happened. That girl was a snitch. A snitch who I had given a mud pack facial to (via a long wind-up pitch) earlier that morning. Once I knew that my parents knew about the communion I was forced to admit the truth. They asked me if I had lied to the priest and I replied that yes I had. My parents told me that I shouldn't lie to people. They offered to go to church with me if I was interested in religion. I wasn't interested in religion and neither were they, so everyone expressed quiet relief when I said that I wouldn't be attending services again.

What's the moral of the story? Don't throw mud at someone who knows where you live.

Kitty Litter and the Baloney Kid

I'm usually unhappy when someone with an open bag of kitty litter sits down next to me on the subway, but today was different. It wasn't that I was attracted to the woman who was carrying the bag. Open kitty litter bags, SUVs, and recent charges of human rights abuse are relationship non-starters. Was it that her kitty litter smelled sweet? No, the bag smelled like kitty litter. I was not unhappy with my new seatmate because her kitty litter bag was covering up the smell of baloney on my hands. I had lunched on baloney sandwiches a few hours before and the smell of baloney still lingered on my hands.

I'm a relapsed baloney luncher. I stopped eating baloney a few decades ago but now am back on the baloney bandwagon. I don't remember being aware of baloney's after effects in my youth. Maybe as an adult I'm more aware of how I smell (other examples of me acting like an adult: sometimes takes out garbage after making a big dinner, cleans toilet every week- whether it needs or not, holds on to socks that need darning, no longer looks at religious people as if they were possessed). Or maybe it's because my sense of smell has become more acute now that I have diminished hearing due to ipod overuse.