Candy

It’s here. It’s here! Our Nielsen package is here! Let the television watching commence! What’s disappointing about this is that it’s only eight days. Only EIGHT DAYS to discuss our television habits in extreme detail. Only eight days to properly explain my disdain for all things cheap reality TV, and my passion for all things Top Chef (except for Padma. Padma, please pack your knives and go). This hardly seems fair, don’t you think? I’d like to be a lifetime member, please. Adam is also lording it over me that the envelope is addressed to him, and him alone and that this is his project–his “cross to bear,” as he put it. Which, HAHAHAHA. No.

Our weekend was incredibly hot, sweaty and uneventful. I don’t mean to be one of those people who waxes painfully about the weather, but Jesus, it’s hot, and nothing says “whoo! weekend!” like sealing and painting the floor of a garage in 90+ degree weather and pudding-thick humidity. And um, it’s only halfway done. And worse–worse!–guess what we have planned for our random Wednesday July 4 holiday? It’ll be lovely to sweat our asses off and kill ourselves with paint fumes amidst the shrapnel of a thousand bottle rockets and those miniature tank things that never do anything but spin around and disappoint people, because really, is that all they do? They just spin around like little sparklers wrapped in some sort of tank-like wrapping and…and…and then nothing? That can’t be! And yet, that’s exactly what it is.

July 4 has never been my favorite holiday–I’m terrified of fireworks; I always have been. I also don’t particularly enjoy them, and I’ve never, not once, sat along the Esplanade in Boston and watched them to the enchanting music of Keith Lockhart and the Boston Pops. I just don’t find it all that magical, considering that I spend most of my time waiting for the barge to explode in some horrible accident, started by a flaming man who caught his arm on fire because he didn’t step away from the fuse fast enough. This fear is compounded by a memorable Fourth spent in Massachusetts, when the wind blew flaming effluvia onto innocent bystanders and actually ignited the blanket of an unfortunate family of holiday revelers.

In the land of non-sequiturs, I’ve started lifting weights, and um, it’s horrible, and I’m not very good at it, and did you know I can’t lift more than…10 pounds in most cases? And that even that leaves me wheezing and grunting and almost wailing in agony? And that I tried to lift 10 pounds on the bicep curl machine and actually could not, but was too embarrassed to admit it because there were people in the gym watching me flounder, so I (oh my God) pretended that the seat broke and walked to another machine? Yes. I think I even said it out loud, “Well, the seat is all screwy!” and then huffily walked away. But in reality, I couldn’t lift it. Like, not even a little. And yet, I can pick up 10 pounds, just not on this particular contraption in this particular way, or at least I keep telling myself.

And finally, remember how I said that poop is always funny? It turns out, there are times that while it might be funny, its inherent humor is outshined by sheer dumbassery. Take, for example, this afternoon, when I walked into the laundry room–where the cat’s litter box is housed, by the way–and gleefully picked up what I assumed was a chocolate chip. Look! A chocolate chip! Never mind that I don’t have any chocolate chips in my house, nor would there likely be one in our laundry room, but that didn’t stop me from picking it up and–well, I don’t even know what I was planning on doing with it. But it was most definitely not chocolate, and in fact, was a stray blob of cat poop. And need I remind you that this was the second time one of us mistook cat poop for chocolate?

Also, um, and this is random: mittelschmerz. Do you get it? If so, um, how does it manifest itself? Feel free to e-mail me if you don’t feel like discussing the details of your menstrual cycle in a public forum. I understand.

Happy Monday!

*Iggy Pop and Kate Pierson. I love Iggy Pop, veiny arms and all.

30 comments July 1st, 2007