Tag Archives: stuff i hate

You Are the Master of Your Taxi Domain

Posted by plumpdumpling on June 8, 2011 – 12:00 pm
Filed under living in new york sucks so hard, stuff i hate
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I don’t take a lot of taxis. Not only am I usually unwilling to pay the initial pick-up fee of $3 when I can travel as far as I want on the subway for $2.25, but I also feel a moral obligation to embargo them because of the awful way so many cabbies drive.

I’ll admit that the idea of quietly relaxing in the back of a taxi really appeals to me some mornings, though. And this morning in particular, I was really dreading my commute to work because of the bag of clothes accompanying me for my trip to Ohio tonight. I could take the bus, which is right outside Kamran’s apartment, but aisle space is limited on those things, and jockeying the bag around at each stop would be a nightmare. I could take the subway, which affords much more aisle space, but it’s a couple of avenue blocks away from Kamran’s, and lugging my bag there in the 90+-degree heat and then sweating it out on the platform sounded almost worse than just walking all the way to work.

Manhattanhenge 2011
from the back of a cab on Manhattanhenge 2011

So I decided to take a taxi. It’s about $20 from Kamran’s apartment in Midtown to my office at the tip of the island, but what won’t I spend $20 on?, and this was a legitimate need. Kamran walked me outside (wearing a sweater vest on a 90+-degree day, because he suffers for fashion), but there weren’t any cabs waiting in front of his building, so I trekked down the street an avenue block and waved down the first guy I saw.

All of his windows were down, which didn’t work for my still-wet curly hair, so I rolled both of the rear ones up immediately. And then traffic stopped, and I sat boiling. I could feel the little sweat droplets bead up on my nose. I could feel a layer of wetness forming between the vinyl seat and my bare arm. I thought about asking the driver to turn on the air conditioning, but I felt guilty. I was going to pay by credit card, which eats into his profit, and then I was going to waste his gas, too?

But I was for-real sweating at that point, and since my best friend, Tracey, is kind enough to let me keep my toiletries at her house throughout the year for use during my visits to Ohio, I didn’t even have any deodorant in my bag. It was then that I realized I would’ve been cooler had I just taken the bus or subway, and here I was, paying $20 for the pleasure of moistening my pants.

So in desperation, I reached down and flipped the little A/C on/off switch on the vent near my feet, figuring there was no way I could turn on the whole system myself. BUT I DID! I could control my own fate! And swamp crotch! The fan started roaring, and hot air blasted my face for a second before becoming sweet, sweet cold air. My sweat dried right up, my cab driver suddenly seemed like an okay guy, and instead of typing 15% into the credit card tip screen like I usually do because all of the preset amounts are 20% and up, I just selected the 20% button like a normal human being.

Still learning, six years in.

I Would Do Anything for a Free Dinner (Including That)

Posted by plumpdumpling on May 17, 2011 – 12:00 pm
Filed under stuff i hate
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I don’t think I’ve been to see a medical doctor since 1994. That was the last time I can remember seeing the inside of a doctor’s office, and even then, I only went because my appendix had ruptured four days earlier and was filling my body full of toxic gangrene.

So when Kamran started insisting recently that I go see a doctor, I was understandably reticent. I don’t know what happens at the doctor’s office. Do I take my clothes off? Where will they touch me? Should I save up my pee?

See, I’ve been going to the eye doctor and the dentist at regular intervals all along, so there are no surprises during the visit. I know the parts I like (the copious encouraged spitting at the dentist), I know the parts I don’t like (when the eye doctor’s assistant weirdly asks me what my hobbies are for my file and I say, “Eating?”), and I know I won’t have to do it again for a predetermined amount of time. Because nothing’s ever wrong with me at those places.

But all SORTS of stuff could happen at the doctor’s office. And I really don’t believe he can tell me anything I want to know or anything that’s helpful. I’d rather just quietly die of whatever unknown diseases are currently taking hold of me than have to worry about actually treating them. I’d rather think I’m totally fine and then keel over suddenly, and the only way to do that is to continue avoiding the doctor for the rest of my life.

Unfortunately, Kamran is nothing if not supremely manipulative. So when I refused to make an appointment for the 400th time, he announced that he wouldn’t be making any fancy dinner reservations for us until I did. So I said, “Oh, well.”

Then he started saying, “I really feel like going to Degustation for a tasting menu. I wish you’d make an appointment so we could go.” So I said, “I mean . . . I wish I could do that for you, but . . .”

Then he started saying, “I’m going to make a reservation at Eleven Madison Park, and I’m going to go by myself.” Now that we’ve been to Per Se, EMP is my new end-all-be-all of restaurants. So obviously I had to suck it up and go.

Thanks to my friend Ash and her husband, I ended up having a totally non-scary experience that didn’t involve any weird touching but plenty of peeing. Of course, my test results don’t come in for a few days, so that’s when the real fun begins.

And by “fun”, I of course mean “chemo”.

Cover Up That Caesarean Scar, Fatty

Posted by plumpdumpling on May 12, 2011 – 12:00 pm
Filed under good times at everyone else's expense, it's fun to be fat, my uber-confrontational personality, stuff i hate, why i'm better than everyone else
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I’ve never worn a bikini. I burst forth from my mother’s womb at 145 pounds, already wearing footie pajamas to hide my shame, so my beach attire has always included one-pieces and t-shirts. Well, my friends and I are soon going back to the Hamptons beach house we rented last year, and I’ve been actively searching again for the perfect swimsuit after last year’s tankini disaster at Laguna Beach.

I think I finally did find a suit that I’ll like, but more importantly, I was reminded that everyone else likes the wrong suit. For reference, here is the only person who should be wearing a bikini:

I don’t mean to be anti-feminist here, but seriously, if you don’t look like that, why are you wearing one?

Do you just looooove the way the water feels on your stomach? Hey, guess what; water actually soaks through swimsuits right to your skin!

Were you hoping for some awesome bikini tan lines? TAN LINES ARE NOT SEXY.

I imagine you’re not doing it to show off your love handles or the fact that no amount of padding will give you sideboobs.

And I kind of doubt you want people noticing that your midsection’s shaped less like an hourglass and more like one of those fat pencils we used to use in kindergarten.

You know what hides love handles, weird foam padding, and your giant potbelly that sort of reminds one of a poisonous growth on a treetrunk?

ONE-PIECES! For me, even models look better in them:

I guess I’d just rather see less and imagine perfection than to be assaulted by how imperfect everything is. And don’t try to tell me that imperfections are beautiful, you bikini-wearing sap.

QUIT TRYING TO MOTIVATE ME

Posted by plumpdumpling on May 6, 2011 – 12:00 pm
Filed under my uber-confrontational personality, stuff i hate
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Lately, I’ve been seeing them everywhere, but especially on Pinterest. These supposedly-inspirational quotes in stylized letters that are so nice to look at that they kind of make you forget how incredibly pointless they are.

I actually liked them for a while and even briefly considered making my own Pinterest pinboard for the ones I liked most until I just became overwhelmed with how many of them they are and maddened by how . . . just . . . fake it all is. No one’s going to be called to action because of these things. No one’s going to “DO IT” or haul up their anchor on the past because of some dumb poster.

I blame the British for starting all of this, naturally, when their totally hott Keep Calm and Carry On poster was discovered ten or so years ago:

But I don’t think that would’ve worked on anyone, either. At this point, I’m refusing to like anything other than kinetic typography like this illustrated dramatic reading of a video game review that Tracey showed me:

Or any of the not-meant-to-be-inspirational, just-meant-to-be-awesome design Lisa of Elembee.com is doing:

Otherwise, it’s all demotivational posters for me.

Ett-ymology

Posted by plumpdumpling on October 8, 2010 – 12:00 pm
Filed under stuff i hate
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In the many-part definition of the word douchebag, here is one part:

\düsh-bag\, noun: someone who wears a black button-down to work but immediately dons a black Ed Hardy t-shirt over it once he leaves the building