Like my title, feelin' fishy. No, not smelly. Get your mind out of the gutter.
Yes, it's been a while since I've blogged, but damn it--I've had nothing to say. Would you rather I write about nothing like some people and their damn blogs? Sadly, nothing has kept my attention lately. T.V. doesn't have the oomph it once had; do you think I should get out of the house more often?
Work is work. It's the fly in my salsa--what can I say?
I don't know if you've read or heard, but crime in the subways has gone up. Number one snatch-and-grab: iPod. If some bastard tries to steal my iPod, I'll kick him in the nuts, punch him in the throat, throw him in front of a train--wait until the train runs him over--jump down on the tracks and punch him in the nuts again. I do love me some iPod. Let this be a warning to you. If you like having nuts and a neck, stay the fuck away.
What else is in the news? Well, let's just say I filled out the living will they had in the Post. I don't trust anybody. I'll piss my mother off one day and I'll be eatin' from a tube for the next 15 years. I come from a vindictive family. There--I said it.
Went to the dentist today. Let's just say I accept donations at any point.
I love all of you--even the little people. And by that, I mean my minions, not my midgets.
Love always,
Le Fig
Tuesday, March 29, 2005
Monday, March 14, 2005
I like the quiet, don't you? (my own private soundtrack)
As you already know everyone has an opinion.
Please allow me to opine on a subject dear to me.
Much has been written lately on the iPod (or as I like to call it "the glorious music machine"). The complaint is (and there's always one) -- "everyone is now hooked up, tuned in and tuning out. Public spaces have now become cocoons; sealed off from one another".
My question is: when did this become a bad thing?
As I'm sure you know from reading my previous blogs I so enjoy interaction with people (especially the subway riding public).
Between obtrusive conversations and dirty comments (I have a good one); a gentleman (actually, a human douchebag), greeted me with "Hey pretty eyes,
I like your ass". From my eyes to my ass. What a sweetie.
When I have my iPod, it's as if I have an invisible force field that says "I CAN'T HEAR YOU; I DON'T WANT TO HEAR YOU--GO AWAY!". Being able to shut out the maddening crowd (and for a brief moment) and enjoy a soundscape of good music (God knows, I'm sick of hearing snippets of crap music).
Listen: iPods didn't start human isolation. The people who write these articles haven't lived in the big city for long (let me guess: you're from a small town where you bought penny candy. Your mother went to the town Woolworth's to buy gingham for a "purdy" new dress, and of course, Shopkeeper Dan knew your name and was always glad you came. Too bad--we are city folk; we do things differently.
Now if you'll excuse me, I must go back to my wall of isolation.
Please allow me to opine on a subject dear to me.
Much has been written lately on the iPod (or as I like to call it "the glorious music machine"). The complaint is (and there's always one) -- "everyone is now hooked up, tuned in and tuning out. Public spaces have now become cocoons; sealed off from one another".
My question is: when did this become a bad thing?
As I'm sure you know from reading my previous blogs I so enjoy interaction with people (especially the subway riding public).
Between obtrusive conversations and dirty comments (I have a good one); a gentleman (actually, a human douchebag), greeted me with "Hey pretty eyes,
I like your ass". From my eyes to my ass. What a sweetie.
When I have my iPod, it's as if I have an invisible force field that says "I CAN'T HEAR YOU; I DON'T WANT TO HEAR YOU--GO AWAY!". Being able to shut out the maddening crowd (and for a brief moment) and enjoy a soundscape of good music (God knows, I'm sick of hearing snippets of crap music).
Listen: iPods didn't start human isolation. The people who write these articles haven't lived in the big city for long (let me guess: you're from a small town where you bought penny candy. Your mother went to the town Woolworth's to buy gingham for a "purdy" new dress, and of course, Shopkeeper Dan knew your name and was always glad you came. Too bad--we are city folk; we do things differently.
Now if you'll excuse me, I must go back to my wall of isolation.
Tuesday, March 08, 2005
Happy Mondays, boring Tuesdays--happy endings?
What a shocker...
Woke up on Monday in a great mood; the sun was shining--the morning was easy. Came to work with a smile on my face. The day breezed by. Finally went to the gym; of course, it was filled with every gymtard humanly possible (you know the type, the sign clearly states 30 min. time limit and they've been on the machine for oh...49 minutes--stop covering up the timer with a towel--I'm not a moron).
Listen, I'm back on track--that's what counts.
Off the subject...
Three pet peeves...
1. This is totally unoriginal:
Cell phones are working my last good nerve. I dont want to hear your stupid ring tone (nothing like a tinny version of a crappy top-40 song to start your day). I don't want to hear your conversation about your sister's mother's friend who had an abortion (please, someone, please give me an icepick).
2. "Supersize Me"
This movie was the most self-indulgent piece of crap I've seen in ages. Let's see: I'll eat shitty fast food (like there's good fast food) for 30 days--let's see what happens. Don't know? YOU GET FAT, DUMBASS! I'm truly tired of people blaming their fat asses on everything but the fact that they eat five McRibs and an 80 gallon jug of Mountain Dew (people, please nothing good ever comes out of
soda that looks like electric urine). It's so sad. Oh and please--people who get gastric bypass are cheating swine who deserve to be smacked upside the head with a bag of medical waste. Having your stomach cut out because you're an out- of-control moron isn't something I'll celebrate (but here--have a cookie).
3. The dread of Monday
I was listening to NPR yesterday; they had on a writer for the Wall Street
Journal. His article was about the dread of Sundays. The whole article
was about "why do people dread Sundays?". The premise is the dread starts in
childhood--weekend's over; school's on Monday. Shows on TV that remind us
it's Sunday. People are in denial it's Sunday and act like it's Saturday.
This is why people hate NPR (don't yell at me; I'm just stating a fact).
I must leave--nothing more to say.
Woke up on Monday in a great mood; the sun was shining--the morning was easy. Came to work with a smile on my face. The day breezed by. Finally went to the gym; of course, it was filled with every gymtard humanly possible (you know the type, the sign clearly states 30 min. time limit and they've been on the machine for oh...49 minutes--stop covering up the timer with a towel--I'm not a moron).
Listen, I'm back on track--that's what counts.
Off the subject...
Three pet peeves...
1. This is totally unoriginal:
Cell phones are working my last good nerve. I dont want to hear your stupid ring tone (nothing like a tinny version of a crappy top-40 song to start your day). I don't want to hear your conversation about your sister's mother's friend who had an abortion (please, someone, please give me an icepick).
2. "Supersize Me"
This movie was the most self-indulgent piece of crap I've seen in ages. Let's see: I'll eat shitty fast food (like there's good fast food) for 30 days--let's see what happens. Don't know? YOU GET FAT, DUMBASS! I'm truly tired of people blaming their fat asses on everything but the fact that they eat five McRibs and an 80 gallon jug of Mountain Dew (people, please nothing good ever comes out of
soda that looks like electric urine). It's so sad. Oh and please--people who get gastric bypass are cheating swine who deserve to be smacked upside the head with a bag of medical waste. Having your stomach cut out because you're an out- of-control moron isn't something I'll celebrate (but here--have a cookie).
3. The dread of Monday
I was listening to NPR yesterday; they had on a writer for the Wall Street
Journal. His article was about the dread of Sundays. The whole article
was about "why do people dread Sundays?". The premise is the dread starts in
childhood--weekend's over; school's on Monday. Shows on TV that remind us
it's Sunday. People are in denial it's Sunday and act like it's Saturday.
This is why people hate NPR (don't yell at me; I'm just stating a fact).
I must leave--nothing more to say.
Sunday, March 06, 2005
Our national nightmare is over... (a.k.a. Bare Essence Le Fig)
Sorry to be such a drama queen...
This is the first year Rob and I did our taxes and I didn't feel like crying out to the gods of
the I.R.S., "DAMN YOU! WHY HAVE YOU FORSAKEN ME?" (okay, it's never been that bad; I just like a little dramatic flourish).
Okay--it's a wash.
Now I can finally get back to the business of getting back to me. The tense and sick Le Fig was a bit much. Rob and I celebrated our victory over tyranny (See? I told you I love drama) with a stop at Starbucks; had a vanilla expresso
latte--oh so lovely. We spent the rest of the afternoon buying vitamins (flaxseed oil and calcium) and going to Kmart to find Matthew Morris monochromatic blue ceramic dishes (no luck). I'll do a little domestic work, then chill for the rest of the evening in a attempt to psych myself up for work.
Later.
This is the first year Rob and I did our taxes and I didn't feel like crying out to the gods of
the I.R.S., "DAMN YOU! WHY HAVE YOU FORSAKEN ME?" (okay, it's never been that bad; I just like a little dramatic flourish).
Okay--it's a wash.
Now I can finally get back to the business of getting back to me. The tense and sick Le Fig was a bit much. Rob and I celebrated our victory over tyranny (See? I told you I love drama) with a stop at Starbucks; had a vanilla expresso
latte--oh so lovely. We spent the rest of the afternoon buying vitamins (flaxseed oil and calcium) and going to Kmart to find Matthew Morris monochromatic blue ceramic dishes (no luck). I'll do a little domestic work, then chill for the rest of the evening in a attempt to psych myself up for work.
Later.
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