Tag Archives: completely random

You Eat Apples, Right? I Produce Entourage.

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Columbus Day weekend, Julie and I went to visit Christina. A fun time was had by all. Among our topics of conversation:

-How my sister, over Parents’ Weekend at BC, took my parents to Mary Ann’s. (No further explanation needed if you know anything about BC bars.)

-How, before YouTube, flash videos like this one were what we used to crack ourselves up in college. (Weirdly, I just had this same conversation at work a few weeks ago.)

-How we absolutely must see this movie, which we saw in a RedBox, at some point. “If they fly, you die.” Awesome.

-How this clip is unexpectedly hilarious.

I don’t know what it is about it. But here, if you haven’t seen it, is the follow-up to it.

-Fish of a certain shape and color.

No, there is not, in fact, a point to this post.

Going Up…But Not That Far

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There are certain things that become less socially acceptable after you graduate from college. Sleeping late. Going out on Thursday nights. Going to The Kells on any night (especially Wednesday). But, I’ve recently discovered, one of the biggest college taboos somehow becomes more acceptable once you enter the working world.

When did it become okay to take the elevator to the second floor?

Now, obviously I’m not talking about the elderly, people with disabilities, or people carrying something heavy. But 99% of the time, those are not the people taking the elevator to the second floor. Those people have absolutely no excuse other than laziness.

The thing is, in college, if you took the elevator to the second floor, you would not be able to talk to anyone else in that elevator ever again. If looks could kill, you’d be mutilated by the eyes of every person going to a higher floor. People might even make some snide comment if they were having a particularly bad day.

And it wasn’t just the second floor that was off-limits. So was the third floor, and my friend who lived on the fourth floor of an eight-story building used to fret about whether it was okay for her to take the elevator. You couldn’t take the elevator from, say, the third floor to the fifth floor, either. It was a terrible breach of etiquette, not much different from stealing someone’s parking spot or dumping their laundry on the floor. We were college students, and we may have procrastinated on homework, gone to Mary Ann’s instead of studying, and decided sleep was unnecessary, but we were going to get back to our dorm rooms fast, dammit, and no lazy person was going to stand in our way!

But the people in my office who need to get to the second floor don’t seem to remember that.

This morning, I got into the elevator with another woman, and after I pushed the button for the fifth floor, I watched in dismay as she pushed the button closest to 1. She let out a yawn, then looked at me and said, “I’m sorry…still tired.”

Yeah. Because your yawning is the worst thing you just subjected me to.

When A Flip-Flop Flops

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It’s finally flip-flop weather again. I recently bought some nicer ones that I could wear to work, and I had my cheap pink ones from last year- you know, five bucks at Old Navy, throw them on when you leave the house flip-flops? They’re perfect except that they’re pink and therefore don’t go with everything.

Yesterday, I noticed some cheap black flip-flops in my closet, identical to the pink ones except for color. “Hmm,” I thought, “I forgot I had those. Why haven’t I been wearing them? They’re black. They go with anything.” So I put them on and left the house.

Then, as I was walking down the street, the plastic part that goes between my toes disconnected from the rest of the shoe, leaving me to stumble forward and almost fall flat on my face. And that jogged my memory.

“Ah, yes,” I thought. “Now I remember. I don’t wear these because they’re broken and for some strange reason I didn’t throw them out!”

Something That Amused Me Recently

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The fire alarm in my house kept going off for no apparent reason the other night (that’s not the part that amused me). This happened once before, on President’s Day when I was home from work, and this time, like that time, it turned out to be nothing. But also like last time, my landlords had to call the fire department. So while Chris and our upstairs neighbor Heather and I were waiting outside, we saw this woman stroll through the backyard with…a cat on a leash.

I can’t decide what the weirdest part is:

-She walks her cat on a leash
-She walks her cat on a leash through other people’s backyards
-She walks her cat on a leash through other people’s backyards in the middle of the night
-She said to us, as if there was nothing weird about it, “Hi! I’m just walking my cat.”

Of course, I have never had a cat, so maybe I’m the one out of the loop and it’s perfectly normal to waltz through other people’s backyards at night with a feline on a leash. Let me know if it is, okay?

Do I Get a Sticker, Too?

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So at work today, I sent this flyer to the Kinko’s at my boss’s hotel so that they could make 100 color copies of it. I just emailed them the file with the information about what to do with it.

About half an hour later, the Kinko’s guy calls me and says that the copies are all set, and adds, very enthusiastically, “Great job sending the information!”

Um…thank you? I feel like I’m in kindergarten. Sending an email is apparently a very impressive feat. Is it equally impressive that I knew how to pick up the phone?

85

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85 what, you ask? I don’t know, but that seems to be my number. I keep using it to emphasize things.

“I called 85 times and kept getting a busy signal.”

“I need to get around to the 85 other things on my to-do list.”

“It’s about 85 times easier than doing it the other way.”

Maybe there’s some kind of deep symbolism in that number. But if there was, you’d think it would be 84, the year I was born.

How YOU Doin’?

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At my gym, I saw a sign today saying that there’s a new massage therapist named Matt LeBlanc.

Hmm. A massage from Joey Tribbiani. Maybe Phoebe gave him lessons.

In other news, I am getting New York magazine sent to me at my parents’ house. I have absolutely no idea why. I mean, I’m not complaining, but I seriously have no clue what mailing list I could have gotten on that would send me it.

Also, one of my company’s textbooks was on The Daily Show. It was in this segment about arming teachers with guns, and then it went into this part about using textbooks as weapons. A bunch of us went into a room to watch it.

An Apple a Day…

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So last week at work I ate an apple core.

We have this intern who eats them all the time, and she was challenging the rest of us to eat one. So this other guy did, and then I did. Seeds and all. It’s really not that bad if you just start from the bottom and work your way around. You don’t even think about it.

Of course, after I’d already eaten the whole thing, she informed me that apple seeds have arsenic in them.

Further research by one of my fellow editorial assistants showed that only the organic form of arsenic is in apple seeds. And according to the intern, in an email she sent all of us later, “Excluding the peel and core of apples from the diet almost halves the amounts of Vitamin C and dietary fibre available in the whole fruit, but makes very little difference to the sugar content.” She also found this poem by Liberty Hyde Bailey:

“How to Eat an Apple”

Hold it, note its size and shape.
See the blush on its shoulder, inhale its fragrance.
Hold it to your cheek, bite it.
Feel its break and cool crisp flesh.
Know the flow of its sprightly juice
and the aroma that lies in its core.
Only then will you have eaten an apple.

So all these years I’ve been throwing out apple cores for nothing. Who’d’ve thunk?

Get we-ell, Get Well Soon

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There’s a Seinfeld episode where Elaine gets cake at the office every day because it’s a big office and it’s always someone’s birthday. So she takes a sick day to get away from the cake, and when she comes back her co-workers have a cake for her and are singing, “Get we-ell, get well soon.” That’s my office, at least lately. I’ve been to four goodbye parties within a week, all with cake. One of many perks of working in a large office.