Happenings at 328 West Ivy Hill

This is where I live. Well, not really. I don't actually live on the golf course but this is the view from my porch as taken at 7:45 this morning. Sometimes I wonder if a view like this can be real. It's even more breathtaking in person. Doesn't it seem straight out of Anne of Green Gables? Too bad I've never been able to frolic on the grass to complete the daydream. What you can't see is the "no trespassing" sign somewhere over there.

Last night, Thales was a bit restless and I couldn't figure out why. He had been fed and walked, and he pooped and peed, but he just kept whining. I relented and gave him Binky, which worked to calm him down. Isn't this just the cutest thing ever?

Well apparently, if you're Thales, this is what you do to things you love.

I knew it was a bad idea but eh, whatever. He had fun for about two minutes. Funeral services were held this morning for Binky the bear. He now lies in the trash at the back of the house.

You ain't got no alibi

Yesterday, I spontaneously (eh, eh? you like my choice of word here?) went over to my friend Rishi's apartment for Thanksgiving since my family members were either in India or in a hospital (not sick, just working). After stuffing ourselves with a Whole Foods pre-prepared Thanksgiving meal (delicious, by the way) we all drank some ugly juice. Okay, okay. So there is no such thing, but we did have a little fun with Rishi's mac, which has a camera that worsens one's good and bad features. It's a very egalitarian camera. This sounds noble in theory, but in practice is just plain hideous. Behold, our portraits. Warning: Prepare yourself for FUGLINESS. Some of these pictures are best seen on an empty stomach.

In other news, I would also like to report that I went running today, which effectively absolves not only yesterday's sinful eating, but that which will undoubtedly ensue in the coming hours. FYI. Also, I am officially addicted to guitar hero. I am going to ask Roey to ask mom to buy it for us. If you haven't tried it, maybe you shouldn't. I'm not sure you will be able to handle the extreme heroicism you'll ultimately attain. I couldn't. And I save lives. Everyday. This is if you count buying yourself shoes that you "just can't live without" as saving a life. Which I do.

Giving thanks

I am alone for thanksgiving. My family is in India for my cousin's wedding, so I have been temporarily orphaned, which I think I will like....temporarily. Don't get me wrong, I love my little brother and I love catering to his every need. However, checking long-division HW was not only getting tedious but also a bit embarassing. It's been a while since I've had to do math (thank god) and I need a break.

I just arrived home a couple hours ago from several days of annoying travel, and I'm staying put until after Thanksgiving. On the drive home from Boston I was thinking of the many reasons why I was feeling thankful, and therefore, happy.

I am thankful because:

1) I spent a lovely weekend with Karin. I am thankful for such a good friend who I can drink wine with at 6PM on a Saturday night and pass out with two hours later, effectively ruining our plans to smooch strangers at a party.

2) I met some very nice, new people this weekend. This is always a pleasant surprise.

3) I received a standing ovation by the passengers on my flight back from Virginia on Friday. I volunteered to move to the back of the nose-heavy Embraer jet so that the plane could take off. I later learned that the air-hostess actually wanted one of the many fat men I was sitting with to move since I do not weigh enough to shift the balance of a mid-size jet. In any case, you can't take back a standing O. What's done is done.

4) After a long and annoying drive, I was given a warm welcome by my doggies who are always joyful and thankful for me. The feeling is mutual.

5) The orgasmic boots are now in my possession (see entry dated 10/19/07). I am thankful that they actually look as cool as they do on the zappos website and that I don't have to buy a whole new wardrobe to wear them. Turns out, my wardrobe is not as terribly out-dated as I thought it was.

6) I am thankful that I won't have to wear a suit very often in my life. I really hate suits. I don't care how smart they make me look, they are yucky.

7) I am thankful that some people read my blog and actually like it. It makes me want to write more and I am always happier when I'm writing. Thank you, kind readers, for indirectly making me happy. I love you too.

One reason Long Island is as bad as you've heard it is

I hate knocking the town where I grew up. I really do. I was very lucky to have excellent public schools, a great library, beautiful parks, etc. It was an almost perfect scenario.

However, the people in this town DRIVE ME NUTS! I won't generalize and say that all Long Islanders are bad (just the ones I've met) but all it takes is one irritating encounter to solidify an existing prejudice. The implication here is that I've had many irritating encounters. And yes, I may be slightly more irritable than the average person and I'm sure yoga or meditation would help me. But I'm telling you, the bitches in this town would rouse the Dalai Lama.

What is this scenario I'm alluding to?

The other day I was in Trader Joe's, which is about 2 miles from my house (just to show you how close I live to the epicenter of meanness). I literally had two cartons of soymilk and a bag of chips. Count it. How many items is that? Three, right? So I'm waiting patiently in line for about 10 minutes. Finally, I get to the head of the line.

Then, this idiot bitch (yes, an idiot bitch) comes up to me with a loaf of bread, takes a short breather from her obnoxiously loud cell phone conversation to ask me if she can "just pay for this loaf of bread." SERIOUSLY?? She was serious. It took all I had not to slap her across the face with my bag of chips. Instead, I gathered myself, mustered my most incredulous look and politely told her that "I just have three things." I know, so weak. But in my defense, I was still reeling from her question when I thought of my "oh snap!" comeback.

You know, the incident itself is not that bad. The lady backed off. And so as not to give her an ounce of credit, this is probably not due to some realization on her part of how idiotic she sounded, but because she had to continue her very important phone call (important, judging by the volume of her conversation). I was offended on so many levels that it took me a good 10 minutes in the car of processing and deep breathing to understand why. Nothing is ever as simple as it sounds. Her question sounded simple and it had a simple answer. No. It's what came after, in my brain, that is complex. Here is a sampling:

1) Why me? I know, this sounds a bit dramatic. But seriously. Why did she pick me? Did my slobbish outfit and my slouching make me look vulnerable and compliant? Did I look like I would be easy to bully?

2) What makes her think her time is more important than mine? I mean, she doesn't know that I'm in week 2 of my 3-month vacation. For all she knows, I could have two kids waiting for me at home, or something equally important to get back to.

3) Supermarket etiquette states that you do not proclaim from the hilltops that you only have one item and demand, fine, ask, to pay first. You must be invited, by the sympathetic customer in front of you, to skip the line. That's how it works, people. Deal with it.

4) And finally, I didn't let the woman go ahead of me. But while I was paying, I found myself guiltily rushing to bag and pay for my items. She had won. She bullied me into feeling like the asshole.

And this, my friends, is why I hate Long Island. Sound ridiculous? Perhaps. But it's a war out there, people, and you can either fight, back down, or move to Brooklyn.

Don't read this if you're in a remotely good mood.

I'm experiencing a touch of self-loathing today. It's one of those days when I'm annoyed at myself for the few times in life when I've been careless and reckless. I'm especially mad because I would probably do it all over again. Like, today.

You know, there is nothing wrong with spontanaeity. As a word it has a very positive connotation, and as an attribute I hear guys really like it in women. Why then, does it just sound to me like the more attractive step-sister of impulsiveness? For some reason, my "spontanaeity" only brings about countless hours wasted in self-doubt and self-loathing. What am I talking about? I'm not yet ready to share the specifics, but they're not that interesting anyway.

I'm worse than my dogs. At least they learn that pooping in their cage annoys them more than it does me. Don't shit where you live. Not that I've done anything as remotely interesting as shitting where I live, but walking into a situation, eyes wide open, knowing it may cause some emotional damage sounds a bit like shitting where you live. Metaphorically speaking.

This post is boring me. I am tempted to cut it short because I'm sure no one but Karin has made it past the first paragraph. Thanks for the support, K, and everyone else, excellent choice. I'm glad you've decided to spend your time more productively. Say, by scratching your bum.

God, I really hate me today. Not only have I not done one important thing, but I've eaten way too many cookies, I did not exercise, I did not walk the dog, I did not floss, and I'm just sitting here, wallowing uselessly. I know, I know. People are dying somewhere else. I am very lucky that I'm not one of those people. And yes, there are more important things to think about right now, even in my own pathetic life. Like the fact that I'm interviewing for residency. I should be very happy that I even have interviews considering how grossly underqualified I feel.

Apparently, instead of being positive, I prefer to just sit here and hate myself some more. Yep. That sounds like a good plan to me. Feel free to try to cheer me up and come prepared for failure. And bring cookies.

And by the way, if I have to hear anymore from the mutual masturbation that is Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes, I might shit a brick. Seriously? Those two need to stop being quoted. "She inspires me." Ugh. Gag me first and then get a life.

Identity crisis

Ok. So I'm not really having an identity crisis, but my facebook profile picture is.

I have never been able to settle on a picture for more than a day. My record is about 2 weeks or so. I am compulsive about changing it.

My profile pictures make a liar out of me. There. I said it.

In my pictures, I am usually smiling, which, if you know anything about me, you know this is not how it is. My pictures take place in social settings, which I typically hate. I am often well-dressed, wearing make-up, without glasses, although in reality I can pretty reliably be found curled up in a ball on the couch, in sweatpants and glasses, watching the food network or animal planet.

Like everyone else, I want to put my best foot forward, hence the glamor shot profile pics. But perhaps I'm also just trying to be optimistic. Maybe looking at those pictures of myself will inspire me to smile more, look my best, get out of the house and act like a "normal" 26-year-old.

I dunno. Until I figure it all out, m&m swathi is staying up there.

P.S. Don't worry, I am not depressed. I have nothing to be depressed about. In fact, at this moment I feel incredibly, incredibly lucky.