Tag Archives: accidental audience

Youth, Age and Beauty

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So, I am still fixated on the events at the gym yesterday.

I must have a magnet in the shape of an S (for schmuck) implanted in my forehead, just above my eyes.  Why else would I notice things better left unnoticed? 

Yesterday’s magnet caused me to see the following:

In the locker room at the gym, a mid-twenty-something woman is prancing around, checking herself out, all in preparation for her performance of the daily nude hair-drying ritual.  She had dyed hair, sported a tattoo and was bronzed (but not orange like House minority leader Rep. John Boehner).  These fly under the radar these days.  No one notices those things anymore. 

But what shocked me — maybe I am naive — is that she had breast implants.  At her age!! 

Didn’t people use to wait for a sag before a lift? 

Then I walked upstairs to a work-out floor and saw an older woman who had way too much work done and looked Joan Rivers-like only not as good.  Now, that is tragic.

Then I got on the bus and there was a 30-something woman who had had plastic surgery to restore her nose and mouth and part of her cheeks.  You know, that look when plastic surgery is necessary after something really bad happens. 

An unfortunate reality check on beauty and the medical reasons for plastic surgery.

I don’t think I’ll go to the gym today.

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A Gym Moment

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I stopped off at the gym for 20 minutes of cardio (how does someone with a family find time for more).

I bumped into my sister (one of the things I loved about the City being my hometown).  She was on her way to the locker room to take a shower.  Not a bead of sweat on her.  And every time I see her, I think cows sweat, men perspire and women glow.  But, SOB (sister of blogger) has a sparkle in her beautiful blue eyes but no glow on the skin (other than the fabulous skin courtesy of our mother’s genes).

She passes me again as she leaves and I am on the recumbent bike, sweating.  SOB remarks, in that genuine way that only an utterly charming, yet clueless person can pull off, “Wow, you’re sweating!  Isn’t that wonderful!” as if this a discovery of an as-yet-unknown by-product of exercise.  Being the doctor, her knowledge comes from the results of clinical trials reported in the New England Journal of Medicine (that mag rag, as I’ve named it) or CHEST.  CHEST is really a medical periodical and not a late night pay-per-view show.  Only doctors don’t see the irony of the logo on the t-shirts distributed at conferences: “CHEST” written right across, well, er, the chest! OK, I digress.

Back to SOB.  I have seen her exercise and I can confirm that she never experiences sweat as a by-product of exercise .  She does the least she can do.  It is remarkable.  She should be able to deduct her gym membership as a charitable contribution on her taxes.

Our memberships in the same gym give us a common point of reference.  For example, the other day, I asked SOB if she saw the young woman with the BIG curlers preening NAKED in front of the mirrors.  I see this woman every time I go to the gym.  She has fake boobs and fake hair color and wears “come hither” panties as she struts in front of the mirror.  We had a communal “EWWWW” moment.

A sister-bonding moment.  Worth paying a lifetime membership at the gym.  And more.

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Tim Burton’s version of Toy Story

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I haven’t seen Toy Story 3 yet but I understand that there is a bear that is cuddly even though it is the evil character in the film.

Because life imitates art (for example, Mel Gibson is still a star despite hateful speech and threats of violence), this evil bear is all the rage among the under 6 set.  It wasn’t always the Cabbage Patch Doll redux; in fact, at one point, you could buy one huggable version and get the second one for half price. 

A friend has a 3 year-old who desperately wants one and now these bears are all sold out.  He knows that his friend’s wife bought two bears on special and wanted to buy one from her.  She wouldn’t sell it to him.  He then goes home and proceeds to scare his child into tears so he could take a picture and post it on facebook with the caption, “I am crying because Aunt [name withheld] won’t sell Daddy the cuddly bear”.

Even Seinfeld couldn’t have dreamed up this one.

I told my friend I would blog about this because the world needs to know this scary toy story.

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Tuesday, the day the lawyer sleepwalked through life

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Most people may think that lawyers have no scruples and sleep like babies.  Well, most lawyers are neurotic messes and control freaks, so sleep is often restless, filled with stress dreams. 

You know, the usual stress dreams:  your teeth are falling out, you are not wearing enough clothes, you are running but you can’t get where you are going, you forgot to drop a class in college and now you have to sit for the exam, or you forgot to graduate from law school.  (Imagine the irony of waking up relieved that you are actually a lawyer and admitted to, and in good standing with, the state bar.  That is more than mere irony.  That is true perversion.)

On Tuesday, I had all of these stress dream episodes but I was watching them happen to other people.  First, I passed a woman on the street who was wearing what looked to be a man’s dress shirt accessorized with a belt.  It was so short that even for the summer in the let-it-all-hang-out culture of NYC, that she looked like she forgot to put on slacks or a skirt.  It really weirded me out.   Stress dream #1 √

I went into the subway where there was a pack of young Europeans blocking every turnstile and acting as if the turnstiles were a make-shift café.  The train was coming and I was wading through a sea of Eurotrash humanity.  I got through but missed the train.  I stood on the platform sweating profusely (it is hot in the City).  Out of the corner of my eye, I see a person on crutches I passed a half-block before the subway hopping down the stairs to the platform.  Now, I know I am getting nowhere fast.  Stress dream #2 √

The train comes and it is packed.  I am cheek by jowl and nose by armpit with strangers.  The man seated below me is talking to a friend and laughs so loudly that I look down — he is missing most of his bottom teeth. Stress dream #3 √

The train thins out at 96th Street and I overhear a woman talking about her daughter’s falling behind on her bar review course materials and freaking out because the bar exam is the last week of July.  Stress dreams #4 – ∞ √

I arrived at my office, tired and freaked out.  And glad I was awake and not living through my stress dreams starring random people on the street.

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Hot Town, Summer in the City

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On Sunday, I went for a run along the Hudson River.  The City has constructed a bike/walk/run path all along the River.  It is really terrific.

Sunday was hot, hot, HOT in the City.  So, City dwellers actually had a fair reason to be scantily-clad (as opposed to other days when there is no good reason to flash so much flesh).  And runners were especially scantily clad.

I, on the other hand, wore knee-length, tight-fitting shorts under the usual running shorts.  If my legs didn’t do a jello impression when I ran, I would have just used the short running shorts.  But I am 46 and, at a certain age, more clothes are way more attractive.  So, athletic gear goes into my “more is better” category. Compared to others, I was dressed like a nun.

I am not a runner for the sake of running.  I run so that I can fit into my clothes.  I run outside sometimes so that my skin doesn’t have that pallor sported by Woody Allen.  Clearly, I will take any opportunity to stop.  By the time ran to the 79th Street Boat Basin, I was tired, bored of running, and wondering about do-it-yourself liposuction with a vacuum.  So, I stopped. Running that is.  I didn’t stop thinking about the DIY liposuction.

While I was heaving and coughing and making a mental note to Google liposuction, I noted two couples walking along the water.  The women had on hose and skirts and little jackets and the men were in ties and pin-stripe suits.  This was not the orthodox Jewish look and even orthodox Jews try to look a little casual on Sundays (as if just wearing a baseball cap will make a person forget the long beard, black coat, long hair locks and prayer garment fringes).

These were not the usual Sunday Church-goers.  The pin-stripes and the pantyhose indicated they were a special type of Church-goers. Of course, I had to investigate further and walked over to them as they looked out onto the Hudson River.  As a cover, I coughed and heaved a little more.

Before they moved away from me because I sounded like I had a dread disease AND I was sweating profusely, I saw that they had name tags (so convenient for me).  These were the kind that a hotel concierge has; ones that are used daily.  No throw-away types.  These people DO what their name tags say and what they do required TWO lines of print:

BELIEVERS IN THE

LORD JESUS CHRIST

Well, all right, then.  No other name necessary, I guess.  JC will cover it.

I walked away a little overwhelmed.  (And, wished I had a Dyke March t-shirt.)  Maybe I should have asked whether they were in town to catch some theater.  Maybe they were taking in a little theater while walking along the River.  Life IS a carnival.  And maybe they were someone else’s street theater, too.

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A Sign of the Times

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So one lazy morning when I could not, should not, would not go gently into the underbelly of New York which we fondly call the subway, I took a cab.  I know, I know, in a recession, the cost of a cab is like taking  candy from my child’s mouth or food off his plate.  Then again if I lose my mind, then I would not be able to put candy in his mouth or food on his plate.  In fact, it was a “wellness” initiative that should be covered by insurance deductibles.  Every urban dweller should get a few moments of peace (and Urdu or other language) once in a while.  But, as usual, I digress.

So back to life inside an air-conditioned, yet still stale-aired, cab (an oxy-moron only city dwellers can appreciate).  I was just reaching to turn off the video screen (provided courtesy of the Taxi and Limousine Commission in recognition of the global shift toward ADD as an evolutionary goal) when I spied the following sign in a liquor store:

Yes, a LIQUOR STORE, advertising 50% if you come in between 8AM and 10AM.

Are alarm bells going off?  I know we are all seeking solace somewhere in this economic meltdown (Thank you, GOP — NO, I will not accept sharing the responsibility, you greedy bastards), but this, THIS, says we are hurting.  And hurting DEEPLY.

Food for thought or, more appropriately, elixir for numbness of the mind.

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G-d bless Michael Steele

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You gotta love that Michael Steele:

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EXCERPT FROM THE ASSOCIATED PRESS: 

Tues,  June 15

“WASHINGTON – Republican Party Chairman Michael Steele is accusing President Barack Obama of exploiting for his own political gain the crisis created by the Gulf oil spill.

Responding to Obama’s Oval Office address to the nation Tuesday night, Steele said in a statement that the president’s actions demonstrate his inability to lead the nation out of a disaster and show an “appallingly arrogant political calculus.” “

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Explain how the President, our nation’s CEO at the time of this disaster, can exploit the disaster for political gain?  This crisis threatens to sully his political future. 

And what did the President say that is so problematic?  He said we need to fix this and we need to decrease our dependence on oil. 

Michael Steele:  Do you disagree with those sentiments?

I hope the GOP keeps loose-lips around for a loooooong time.

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Lunch with Stinky

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I was at a business lunch today and the guy next to me was flatulent.  I was recovering from a very bad reflux attack last night and so the — er— the — um — the — ok, I’ll say it — stink bombs nearly did me in.

I survived, barely able to keep down lunch.

At least I didn’t have to pay to gag.

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Heard on the subway platform

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A woman on the phone passes me on the subway platform and I hear her say to the person on the other end of the conversion:

“If you are in a room with a murder, just LEAVE. [Staying there] was NOT smart!”

So many thoughts and comments collide in my head.  But, really, none is necessary.  All you need to do is let this woman’s admonishment wash over you and the nuances, the complexities and the insanity hidden in that simple sentence will crash in your head, too.  It is a little like going down the biggest slide in the most insane water park ever.  Enjoy, but please be careful not to drown.

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Change of Venue

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SOB (sister of blogger) came back from visiting her in-laws and wanted us all to come over for Sunday night dinner at her house.  The usual complement of the family showed up.  POB (partner of blogger) was happy for the night off from cooking.

As I was helping my sister, I had occasion to open her refrigerator.  This is what I saw:

Nothing else on that shelf in the refrigerator.  Without these cans of non-nutritive and non-food particles, you could sleep in that refrigerator.  I was amazed and therefore, I had cause to investigate further and I found this in the freezer:

I was a little shocked to see all of this ice cream and sorbet especially when she said she went out especially to buy vanilla ice cream for my son.  Really?  Really? You mean you didn’t pick up vanilla by accident while you were buying in bulk??  Or maybe the neighborhood store threw a vanilla in your order because as part of a customer rewards program? In all that ice cream and sorbet, there wasn’t already vanilla?

Then SOB said something that completely blew my mind, as a 46 year-old listening to her 50 year-old sister:  “you can’t imagine how quickly we go through this.” Doesn’t HOSOB (husband of SOB) have a cholesterol issue?  Doesn’t SOB have high blood pressure?

AND, AND, to add insult to injury, SOB is the doctor in the family.  She is supposed to know better.  Because she is an M.D. and has mastered that air of authority, she can get away with saying crazy things.  I loved her comment, “eating fat-free whipped cream is like eating nothing”.

For the sake of family pride, I feel compelled to mention that she went to excellent schools and has incredible credentials.  Because even I, the juris doctor, know that what she was saying was just nuts (which, by the way, you could have had on your ice cream with whipped cream).

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