Weight and balance

Today, I brought home another one of those lucky finds from the give-away box at the magazine. This time it is a Gamma Bath Scale by Soehnle.

I just took it out of the box, and it looks amazing in my bathroom, especially now that it is sitting next to the crappy white health-o-meter I had been using.

I'm totally digging the "sleek design" and "extra large 1.1" LCD display," but I'm a little nervous about the "attractive safety glass surface." It says it handles up to 330 lbs, so it must be extremely secure... but, something about stepping on glass just seems wrong to me. I feel like I am going to break it. And the glass is raised up by a silver circle in the middle. It's not even attached on the sides.

Another thing that is strange, is that the glass has a big orange warning sticker on it that says "Careful: Slippery when wet!" Shouldn't they have considered the fact that it is a "bath scale," and that there is a good chance that it will get wet, when designing the thing?

I'm sure I'll end up loving this fancy scale in the end, but I can guarantee it will never be as good as the shower head! (see "favorite posts": It Gives Good Head)

Don't you wanta Fanta?

Whether I'm driving down the highway and see one of their billboards, or between the previews at a movie theater, whenever I see the Fanta fem-bots (who actually look a lot like drag queens up close with their teased hair and bright hot-pants), I always sing it... Wanta Fanta? Don't you wanta? Wanta Fanta? Over and over again. Every time. And yet, it does not make me want to drink a Fanta. In fact, I have never had a sip of Fanta in my life. I see them in my head sometimes when I sing it: Kiki, Capri, Sophia, and Lola... the fabulous fanta-sies known as the Fantanas. And, I found that each of these "girls" has a story. Seriously.

Capri:: Strawberry
Personality: Fashionforward. Silly Streak.
In a Nutshell: Capri's the kind of girl you want to go shopping with. She's tons of fun and knows all of the latest trends because she starts many of them herself. Capri can put an outfit together out of just about anything. But she prefers the cutting-edge of fashion.
Interests: Fanta. Fashion Design. Shopping. Shopping. Shopping.
Part-time job: Stylist for The Fantanas.

Lola: Pineapple
Personality: Brainy, MacGyver.
In a Nutshell: Lola is sophisticated and fun. She has her finger on the pulse of technology and is on the cutting-edge of all things digital. Lola is always next-generation everything. She also knows how to balance studying and playing.
Interests: Fanta. Web surfing. Digital photography and art. Poetry.
Part-time job: Webmaster for fanta.com. Lyricist for The Fantanas.

Sophia: Grape
Personality: Dancing machine. Upbeat. Endless energy.
In a Nutshell: Sophia is full of energy. She's got attitude and spunk. She may be small, but she has a big personality that comes out on the dance floor.
Interests: Fanta. Dancing all night long.
Part-time job: Choreographer for The Fantanas.

Kiki: Orange
Personality: The Leader. Charismatic. Friendly and Free-spirited.
In a Nutshell: Kiki is a natural-born athlete and leader. She can excel in any sport she puts her mind to. She takes the initiative and oozes confidence. When she enters the room, the atmosphere is charged with the possibility that anything can happen.
Interests: Fanta. Surfing. Sea kayaking. Swimming. Water polo. Wave running.
Part-time job: Personal trainer for The Fantanas.

It's like Spice Girls meets the Teletubbies.

But wait, that's not all. In addition to www.fanta.com, I found that they even each have an individual and a group myspace profile(with 15,361 friends), see www.myspace.com/fantanas (sorry, i still don't know how to make a link in my post). Lola is the least popular of the four with 7158 friends. Poor Lola. But then again, who drinks pineapple soda anyway? Isn't it supposed to be about the drinks? Or is it?

What jingles make you wanta sing?

In olden days a glimpse of stocking...

I just got back from a wedding weekend in Philly. It was enjoyable (I laughed, I cried, I ate, I danced), but one of the highlights for me was without a doubt the moment (after I got dressed and primped, and was about to walk out the door to go to the ceremony), when I said "screw it" and took off my stockings. I'm not kidding when I tell you that I did a little happy dance and ran around the room yelling "I'm free," so excited that I did not have to hear my thighs swishing against each other (a sound worse than scratching on chalkboard to me).

I have not worn pantyhose in a while, so perhaps I am just not used to them. Or maybe I picked a brand that did not agree with me. They were Berkshire Ultra Sheers. A great deal, I thought, at Macy's, $5.95. But now that pair (and the spares) are going right into the trash. They felt rough like cardboard, and how am I supposed to feel sexy in that? How can I do the hustle, or even the hora, while trying to keep my legs from touching? It's just not possible, at least not in those loathsome Bershires.

Then at the wedding, I noticed that most women were not even wearing stockings. Is going stockingless the new thing? I sure hope so, or else I'll have to return to the fishnet stockings of my Rocky Horror days... now those were comfy and really made me feel like boogie oogie oogie-ing.

Playing dress-up

Last year, my nephew Sam was "SuperSam" for Halloween. This year, my sister told me, she has settled on the perfect costume. He is going to be the Sorcerer's Apprentice from Fantasia, and she will be the Broom. Cute, right? Well, when she told me this, it caused me to have one of those 80s movie-montage flashbacks to the costumes of my life...

I went backwards in time, starting at last year's Purim party at the Kabbalah Center in LA, when a tipsy me starred as "A Mid-Summer Night's Dream" with vines and sparkles all over. Next, I flashed to my college years, with yours truly rocking out as the "Sexy Cat" or "Sexy Red-Riding Hood." I visited the "60s chick," and "Pippi Longstocking" of my prep school years, on all the way back to one of my favorites...

Picture this: Moi, little D (6 years old or so) as Twink, the sidekick from Rainbow Bright. The costume: a plastic mask of Twink's face with only two round holes for eyes (no nose or mouth holes, which made it kind of hard to breathe), and a big plastic smock with a picture of Twink (please note, it was a picture of the entire character of Twink, not just his body). And in case you still didn't "get" that I was Twink, I felt the need to tape a small stuffed Twink to the smock. My "BFF" Becky, who I called my other sister, had the same thing going on, but she was "Sunshine Bear" from the Care-Bears(Congrats again on getting engaged Becs!). We really could not have been cooler, or so we thought, as we pranced around Lily Pond Lane filling our plastic pumpkin pales, and sneaking treats under our masks.


Anyone else have memorable costumes to share?


w.w. -1, -4.2 total

All seven and we'll watch them fall...

Seven things I...

Plan to do before I die:
1. party like it's 1999
2. visit africa
3. be my own boss
4. be a mom
5. quit my nail-biting habit
6. publish a children's book
7. rock out in a skimpy bikini


Things I can do:
1. make a flower with my tongue (like my sister: happy b-day stef!)
2. take a mean photo
3. paint flames with my fingers
4. win at super mario cart
5. play a few cords of guitar and sing
6. make experimental films
7. shake my bon bon

Things I can't do:
1. fall asleep easily
2. burp loud
3. ski
4. drive stick
5. put things together
6. cook (but I haven't really tried)
7. kill (except bugs)

Things that attract me to the opposite sex:
1. sensitivity
2. smiling eyes
3. sillyness
4. family values
5. self-confidence
6. man with a plan
7. tickles/rubs my back... ooh, gives me goose bumps

Things I say most:
1. "craziness"
2. "that's wierd"
3. "cool"
4. "who's my cutie girl?"(to the dog)
5. "that's just not funny"
6. "fuck it"
7. "babe-a-licious"

Celebrity crushes:
1. angelina Jolie
2. young johnny depp (pre-pirates, benny & joon days)
3.4.5.6. and 7... The Yankees (does that count as the rest?)

Tag? Whoever wants to be tagged... have fun.

And the lame subway ad award goes to...

Evidently only REAL men fall asleep on trains.

I understand that some of Mitchum's former ads were trying to appeal to men's machismo, for example, "If menage a trois is the only French you know, you're a Mitchum Man," And even the recent, “If you’re pretty sure you could kick out the window in the event of an emergency, you’re a Mitchum Man.” But.....

Does that make me a Mitchum man, because I am respectful of pregnant women/mothers/disabled/elders, and give up my seat? I don't even know what they are going for anymore.

Don't get me wrong, I think it is GREAT to advertise deodorant on the subways... me and my sweat-phobia and all. But, is there anyone that would actually go out and buy Mitchum after staring at these?

P.S. The beau is a Mitchum man, and has an extra stash under the sink... I find this highly disturbing.

LATE-BREAKING UPDATE: He actually uses Gillette, and was offended that I even suggested he was a Mitchum man... he hasn't been one since he was twelve. Excuuuuse me!

The Fat Pack

Many doctors, scientists, and parents these days are concerned with the rising obesity rate in children. I, however, am concerned with the rise of obesity in New York City "wildlife."

Just today, I had to do that little dance about which way to go around someone, with a pigeon. I had to zig and zag around because he (or she) was waddling right where I needed to walk. The construction had left such a small amount of sidewalk open that it wasn't big enough for me and the plump pigeon.

Another encounter of the tubby kind, occurred last Friday night. I was walking in Washington Square Park, when two of the fattest rats I have ever seen, appeared from behind a garbage can, into the mood lighting set by the streetlamps covered with bedroom-style shades... and they started going at it. And not fighting, I'm talking about full fat rat humpage. They were getting busy conceiving future fat rats, right in front of me.

What can we do about this problem? Well, perhaps Weight Watchers could devote a new division to the paunchy pigeons and rotund rats of New York. Then, maybe they too would discover, as I have... the wisdom of the Skinny Cow.

Sock Stumper

I seriously don't understand how I can have a full drawer of socks, but no matching pairs. I'm not talking about three or four lonely socks, but 16+ socks of different colors, styles, weights, and lengths. No two alike. How is that even possible? I admit to having a messy closet, and some of the missing mates may be strewn in there... but, all of them?

Some people (like Lauren the Franco-American) can pull off the two different socks look. But, I cannot. Especially because my socks are so varied. Some are striped or patterned, others are black formal socks, and there are my short sweat socks. None of which would look remotely normal with any other.

In the search for my missing socks, I stumbled upon a database of lonely socks at www.lonelysocks.co.uk, but, alas, none of them looked like mine. I also discovered a Bureau of Missing Socks at www.funbureau.com. Perhaps one of these organizations will bring about some answers to this age old mystery.

I was thinking of getting those labels that my mom used to sew on my underwear for sleep-away camp, with my name and phone number, and attaching them to each sock. But, honestly, I'm way too lazy for that, and I'm sure the missing socks are in my apartment somewhere hiding. So, I think a paging device would work best, like on cordless phones. Then I can play "hot and cold" until I reach behind my dresser drawer and pull out the lone beeping sock.

And if all else fails, I will say a prayer on Lost Sock Memorial Day, which according to www.holidayinsights.com/other/lostsockday, is celebrated on May 9th.

Now that really knocks my socks off.

ill luck with the intimates

Warning... Do not work-out in your Honeydew panties!

I just had a minor catastrophe. The fishnet ripped on the back seam of my red and pinks. Must've been those killer lunges. So sad. I know, I shouldn't have been working out in them in the first place. Oops... my bad.

On a positive note, it is just the excuse I needed to buy more... for research purposes, of course. And, if you buy 5 pairs from www.honeydewintimates.com, there is no shipping fee. So, I think I will try a few more styles (and of course report back with my findings). I am going to get the Fine Mesh Boyshort, in pink with black lace. The Micro Fiber in Raspberry/Blush. Cross Dye Lace in Bubblegum. Cotton Comfort in black on black lace. And finally, my replacement Fishnets in Red/Pink.

So, please learn from my mistakes... 1. Don't trash the granny panties: save them for the gym. And 2. Treat yourself to delicates, but treat your delicates as delicates.

I love this stuff

Skinny Cow low-fat ice cream sandwiches and fudgicles... de.lic.ious... and they're just 2 points on Weight Watchers. (Note: I am one week in on W.W. and down 3.2 lbs... It's a start.)

So, as I do with any of my new obsessions, I went to www.skinnycow.com, and discovered that the Skinny Cow does in fact exist, and she has even written a letter to fans like me, as follows...

Hi, I'm Skinny, and I love ice cream.

Not the “I’ll have a small scoop in a dish” kinda love. The kind of love that can justify a double chocolate peanut butter sundae before noon.

An ice cream habit like that can be pretty tough on a girl’s figure. And with a name like Skinny, you can guess I’m a pretty health-conscious cow.

So I set out to make an ice cream that wasn’t the enemy.

Needless to say, it had to taste absolutely amazing -- rich and super creamy. Nothing like the other low fat stuff out there.

After oodles of recipes and tons of taste tests, I had the perfect vanilla. I scooped it high on two giant chocolate wafer cookies and The Skinny Cow® ice cream sandwich was born, weighing in at just 140 calories and 97% Fat Free.

I couldn’t stop there. I made sandwiches, ice cream bars and sundaes in all kinds of flavors. Then I made ‘em for all kinds of healthy lifestyles, from no sugar added to carb friendly.

And this ice cream lover is here to say, I love every last one.

I make The Skinny Cow® ice cream to make your healthy life a whole lot happier. So fill up that freezer and enjoy

Love, Skinny


Thanks Skinny... Soon, I'll really feel confident prancing around in my Honeydew Fishnet and lace panties. P.S. Even you should try a pair. ;)

one whiff, oh baby just one whiff

Sometimes my dog Audrey's paws smell like Frito-Lays chips...


...and I'm suddenly a kid again.

It's amazing how smells can transport us back in time. I squeeze by someone on the train and I'm in my grandmother's apartment, or with my sister in Texas. Vanilla musk and I'm with my childhood best friend. Vanilla Noir and I'm back working in LA.

Sometimes I wish I could bottle those moments, and wear them around my neck, for rainy days like today.

But for now, I will settle for occasional flashes and glimpses...

and random frito-paw moments.

What's in your drawers?

One of my "must haves" is definitely underwear that's a perfect fit. For me, that means something that will make me feel confident, sexy, and comfortable all day.

Surprisingly... this does, in fact, exist. I have found it (thanks to my amazing friend Heather in LA) in Honeydew fishnet and lace. The mesh material hugs your skin and does not dig in, even for voluptuous women. And the contrasting lace trim is a super sexy touch. It is a splurge, but it is totally worth it to me, because I feel like whatever intimates I choose in the morning sets the whole mood of my day.

If I grab my cheap thongs, I may look cute, but I'll never feel quite right. And I'll ususally end up with lines across my sides, or the kind of perma-wedgie that has me squirming in my chair. If I go for the comfort without the sexy/confident factor, those are never the best days either, especially when I grab my oh so comfy navy cottons with Grumpy on it from the 7 dwarfs.

So... I say, treat yourself, if you have the means. You'll look fetching, and feel divine. You deserve a Honeydew day.

Blog, sweat, and fears

I have a confession to make...

I am a sweat-phobic. I am totally and completely paranoid about perspiration. And I don't even sweat a lot.

It's really starting to affect my life now. I mean, I will not buy certain clothes because of it, and I layer when it is hot out for double cover. And today, for example, I put on my antiperspirant four times. Once in the morning. Once when I got home from work. Once after I switched into my gym clothes. Then once as I walked out the door to the gym. Oh wait, then I just did again after my shower... that's 5 times I applied my Secret Platinum Clear Gel (a product which I'm not married to, if anyone has any suggestions).

And I'm a secret sweat-checker, like in the commercials. I'll go into the bathroom or hallway, and give a quick glance and/or sniff, just in case. Can't super stinky people smell their odiferous stench? How can they live in such stank? It just boggles my mind... And pit stains? Don't even get me started on pit stains? At least it is a small phobia in the grand scheme of things.

I guess I'll just have to keep reminding myself not to sweat the small stuff...

Ms. Subways says...

On the E train today, as I was avoiding eye-contact with the other commuters, I began to really ponder the above sign...
I thought, who is this woman in the green sweater?
How did she become Ms. Subways?
What does being Ms. Subways entail?
What qualifies her to be Ms. Subways?
And why should I care about what Ms. Subways says?

So naturally, when I got home, I did some research. I mean, what better way is there to spend a night, than searching for pointless info online? And lucky for you, I am sharing the love. From a press release from the MTA I learned the following...

As part of her continuing reign (yes, it is called a reign) as the first Ms. Subways in 22 years, [Caroline Sanchez-Bernat] will begin appearing in a print campaign and public service announcements touting a new courtesy campaign which reminds riders to be a little more considerate on their next subway ride. The tagline for this campaign is "Courtesy is contagious. Let it start with YOU."

Lawrence G. Reuter, the MTA NYC Transit President with a heart of gold, had this to say, "I admire Ms. Subways' passion for etiquette and safety within the subway... I hope all our riders take her advice to heart."

Thank you, Mr. Reuter. I did indeed take what she said to heart. I was considering becoming a rusher and a pusher, but now I know better. Now I know that it could start my trip with a slip.


And as for how she became Ms. Subways... Caroline Sanchez-Bernat was chosen among thousands of entrants who responded to a competition sponsored by the New York Post.



Hmmm... Ms. Subways 2006, do I feel a reality show coming on?

In that case, maybe even I could be the next Ms. Subways. I can see it now... Next to my picture it will say: Ms. Subways says, "Move your ass, so we can all get where we need to go... and wear deodorant, please."

Train wreck of the week...

Has anyone watched this new show: Hooking Up? It follows 11 New York City women for a year as they explore online dating. The problem (and I'm sure it is exaggerated by the editing) is that each and every one of these women comes across as totally neurotic and crazy. Not to say that I am not neurotic and crazy at times. Trust me... I am. But one woman on the show, a 37 year-old opera singer, is on a first date and tells the guy that she has been a Dominatrix, and then she brings him back to her leather-filled abode for some kinky fun. Then in the next scene, the same woman says "6 months ago, I met this amazing guy and... he's moving in with me." I could get no sense of time at all. It frustrates me to no end... but for some reason, I keep watching it. It is just like seeing an accident and wanting to know what will happen. I think a lot of television shows are banking on that these days. Am I a horrible person for succumbing to this absurdity? Yeah, probably. I guess you could say...

I've been hooked.

And on the subject of hooking up:

Your Kissing Purity Score: 37% Pure

You're not one to kiss and tell... But word is, you kiss pretty well.

You'll never know...

Say cheese...

Gotta love polaroids... Since my mom insulted my blog photo, I will post another one. This is from last night. I went out to celebrate the two week birthday of my blog... Okay, maybe there were other reasons... I'm the monkey in the middle. With my monkey Adam in front of me. And fellow Ithacans Patrick, Katrina, Mark, and Rachel (L to R).

It gives good head

One of the perks of working at a magazine is free stuff. Several issues ago we ran a story comparing shower heads, and a few days ago they were finally placed into the "give-away" box. I was all about getting in on the action. For eight months I have been in my apartment, using the standard issue shower head, so I was definitely ready for an upgrade. I carefully considered my options... First, my eye went toward the biggest one, which had to be at least 10 inches across, and simulates rainfall. But, it's not all about the size, is it? Who really wants a drizzle for a shower? Not me... I like power, strength, and speed variation. Perhaps, something that simulates magic fingers? So... drumroll please. I went for a handheld, six mode sportPlus massaging shower head. Nice, eh? And, let me tell you, the "plus" is the best part...

Incredible

My co-worker asked me the other day, if I could add something to myself (an attachment) to give me a super-human power, what would I choose? My first thought was a jet pack to fly, either one for my back or two for my feet. I used to daydream every day on the bus ride to school about flying. Gliding from phone pole to phone pole. But I don't really see myself gliding gracefully in a jet pack. It would probably be awkward and heavy, and I'd constantly be worrying about my pants getting on fire... Yikes.

So, my second thought was to have camera eyes. Oh. My. God. To be able to see a moment, and capture it instantly. For me, that would be a dream, more than superhuman strength or x-ray vision. Just to capture the simple moments of life as the art that it is, as I see it. Wow, I would need a really big memory card. But I'm a photographer, so I guess that's not a stretch... What would you choose? Anyone?

Buy 10... Get One Free

I did it! Today I cashed in my Cosi stamp card for a free salad or sandwich. I decided to go with the Chicken Caesar salad (as a change from the chicken t.b.m. - tomato, basil, and mozzarella sandwich that I usually get), which as I am eating it now, is turning out to be a disappointment. What is not a disappointment, however, is the bread... which is probably the only reason why there are lines out the door of people waiting to drop 8 or 10 bucks on their lunch every day. I swear there is some addictive substance among their ingredients. Right as you walk in the door, you can see them putting the bread in the oven, and there is a big silver bowl with samples of their bread. I challenge anyone to try it, and not want more... It is thin and salty and a bit crunchy, but still chewy and soft and nice. What more can I say? I'm hooked. I wouldn't be surprised if the people outside asking for money on the street are just trying to raise funds to get their Cosi fix.

What do your shoes say?

Sometimes when I am on the subway, I look at people's shoes before I look at their face, and try to guess what they look like. I'm usually way off base. I mean, not even in the ball park. Then I try to guess other things about their life. Where they are coming from and going. What they do. If they are getting any. It is pretty entertaining. Especially now that my i-pod is on the fritz.

If people did that with me, they would probably think I am a mess (which I guess I am in a lot of ways), because I usually go for reliable comfort in my worn navy skechers. I'm just not one of those girls who walks around in high healed strappy pink sandals with a flower. Don't get me wrong, it looks hot, but it can't be comfy... and wearing uncomfortable shoes is one sure-fire way to start your day off on the wrong foot.

For Your Sanitation

I never really appreciated paper toilet seat covers until I moved to LA.

I had been accustomed to squatting, or on occasion placing squares of paper carefully on the seat. But that was before I moved to the land of sanitation, where seat covers can be found around every corner. Even in the smallest, grimiest restaurants, rest stations, and movie theaters.

I was pondering this last night, while trying to dissociate from the experience of watching "Must Love Dogs." Yes, I personally thought it was that bad. (See link to Not a Girl... for post "Must Love Blogs" for more) But at least it gave me time to ponder such pressing issues as powder room conventions.

Here's the worst part though, after two years of being spoiled in LA, I lost my squatting muscles! If I'm going to survive back on the east coast, I'm going to need to start doing some exercises or something. Maybe I'll try some walking lunges...

Come Visit the Big Apple

Tourists in Manhattan are a breed apart.

I am taking a photography workshop at the ICP, so I was in a nearby park today taking portraits of random people, when a man starts motioning for me to take pictures of him and his wife. So, I start taking photos of them, and the whole time they are speaking Spanish at a level that is way above my 9th and 10th grade Español class understanding. After taking a few, I motion to my notebook, saying "e-mail? e-mail?" And they nod yes. He begins to write as a look around, scoping out my next shots (a girl with a doll, and a papillon). When I look back, he had written a full street address and started pushing money at me saying "much? much?"

In case you were wondering... I didn't end up taking the money, and I will send him prints. He is lucky I am who I am. But hey, it's not a bad idea... someone could make a pretty penny walking around the city taking pictures of tourists, and telling them they'll get the prints "in the mail." I do expect a percentage if any of you use my scheme, errrr, I mean, business opportunity. Any takers?









P.S. this is a photo i took today of a girl in my class

Dove-licious

My commute was fraught with sadness today when I realized the posters had all come down from the Dove cartoon campaign with Marge, Wilma, and Velma looking all sexy and confident after using Dove hair products. For months they were there, making me smile each day, and now what do I have? Learn English. Be an Egg donor. Get tested for HIV. Visit Pennsylvania. Here's a lawyer for your baby's brain damage... Come on, Why so heavy? I think that is why everyone looks like they are ready to spit nails in the subway. Morbid signs. So I'd like to take this moment to say thank you Dove, I appreciated your delightful aberration.

tonight's sleepless visions

Family Guy Moment

PETER: Oh my god, Brian, there's a message in my Alphabits. It says, 'Oooooo.'
BRIAN: Peter, those are Cheerios.

trash

i saw someone wearing this shirt the other day on the train. but i don't get it... what's wrong with Jersey girls? I mean, some women at the shore have been known to go a little crazy with teasing their hair (especially in the 80s). but what about the rest of us?

Insomnicidal

nights when I can't sleep,
i feel the craziest.
especially when I take ambien,
and it makes me all looooopy,
but i still can't sleep.
i love to create at those times.



even though in the morning
I barely remember making them.
like these photos...





remnants of sleepless nights