Thanks, Mercury

This week has been interesting. And by interesting, I mean riddled with trash fires of varying degree and magnitude. So in lieu of our regularly scheduled programming aka me writing about the death of a loved one or how much I hate/love New York, here are some thoughts from the week so far…

Yesterday I *may* have spilled a grapefruit Spindrift in my computer’s general vicinity (read: all over it). My computer is acting slightly sluggish today. Given mercury is in retrograde, I maintain those two occurrences are mutually exclusive and will not be taking questions or comments at this time.

Met a lovely girl last night and all I have to say is polyamory is not real. I’m guessing the fad began by a man realizing that if he gave his philandering ways an official name, he could convince the masses (and his gf) he should be able to have his cake and everyone else’s too. He’s not polyamorous, he’s a douche. You deserve better sis.

What does it mean when a pair of sneakers causes the back of one’s sock to slide down under one’s heel? I have a pair of shoes that started doing this and ran a field test with multiple pairs of socks. All fell victim to the slide and ended up wedged under my foot. Do you live with it knowing your journey will be a little worse or stop and untie your shoe, adjust your sock, retie and continue? I chose the latter on Tuesday. It was freezing and I was walking Hudson at night. He decided, while my shoe was off, to lunge at a small rodent dog several feet away. I figured wrestling Hudson into a sit whilst shoeless in front of the Museum of Natural History was certainly a low point. Wrongo. Ended up stepping in an ice-covered puddle of city hell-water and contemplated cutting my foot off when I returned home.

Do you know you can’t adjust anything on your body clothing-wise while boxing? Now you do. Which leads me to my next question: is there a reason Lululemon is the only retailer that can make exercise pants that remain in place throughout the entirety of a workout? Have they patented their waistband technology to ensure they can continue to sell their pants for $448948293 a pair? I need answers.

A woman’s MetroCard fell out of her back pocket yesterday while I was walking home from the subway. I assume the adrenaline rush I experienced scrambling to retrieve it is exactly how Batman felt flying the Bane-bomb out to sea in his Bat-tank-copter. It’s not easy being a silent guardian and watchful protector but Bruce is in Italy with Alfred and Selena so here we are.

If you don’t use insomnia as an excuse to binge posts on The Dodo you’re either lying or need to start. I’ve built up a healthy emotional tolerance and don’t tear up at just any roadside abandonment to rescue tale, but last night watching a hippo and baby rhino form an unlikely friendship after poachers killed their parents did me in. They remain friends to this day.

PSA – there should be no entering another person’s space in the workplace. No touching, no shaking of a coworker’s chair, no throwing Triscuits at people, nada. Good, great, got it.

Snapchat shares your location with your friends if you’re not millennial enough to shut off location services. I DID NOT know this. I hate Snapchat. Also, Snapchat please update your filters and lenses, they’re played out.

This one isn’t a thought or event related to me but is still highly relevant. Today, after a team lunch, my coworker went with our new boss to grab coffee near the office in Hoboken. Somehow Lauren dropped her wallet. Somehow in her attempt to retrieve said wallet she fell onto the sidewalk in the hilarious slow-motion, reverse-Matrix way that only happens to adults. Don’t worry she’s fine. She cried, though, presumably over the brief loss of her dignity and also because we’re only two days into Mercury’s retrograde.

And it’s only Wednesday. Jesus take the wheel. Which reminds me – Happy Ash Wednesday! SOS.