Lost Burberry playlist traffic meltdown

I recently suffered an unexpected break up. It felt like I had lost a limb, it was so sudden... I ran to catch the bus one afternoon, and the next thing I knew, they were gone. My Burberry sunglasses had slipped out of my pocket, and probably landed somewhere along the sidewalk. By the time I noticed, it was too late.

We'd been together for almost a decade, through much sunny weather, and those weirdly bright overcast days when wearing shades puts you in the category of annoying hipster trying too hard to be cool but you don't care because squinting causes wrinkles, or so you've heard. 

My Burberrys had been incessantly dropped, scratched and even forgotten overnight in a yoga studio, but we were always reunited, until recently. I was like a lost puppy looking for its home, forced to wear my cheap aviator knock-off "back-up" pair of shades. I've morphed from classy Audrey Hepburn look-alike to trashy Abercrombie and Fitch walking advertisement (from the neck up only - I'm not a pre-pubescent tween girl after all).

Goodbye super cool awesome shades. I'll never look this good again.

Prior to this trauma, I had a full-blown technology-related breakdown at that ill-fated bus stop (I'm beginning to think it's cursed). I had recently been trying to free up memory on my ancient iPhone 6, when I came across a suggestion online that said all I had to do was sign out of my Apple ID account and then sign back in. So I did that. And it worked. And I was elated. Until I got to that damned bus stop on my way to teach a yoga class and pulled up my playlists to pick one out for my upcoming class.

OH MY F*CKING GOD WHERE ARE ALL MY PLAYLISTS!!!! They had disappeared. I spend more time on my class playlists than on personal hygiene so I completely lost my shit. Once I managed to somewhat compose myself, I figured there must be a way to fix this. So I went to Settings, then to Music, and realized that my little sign out / sign in trick had turned off "show playlists on all devices". So I turned it back on. My playlists came back, and I wallowed in shame at my total and complete slavery to technology.

Following my Apple aneurysm at said cursed bus stop, the bus arrives, I get on, and then quickly realize we're stuck in an unusual traffic jam. I have less than an hour to get to the yoga studio, where I'm expected to be teaching a class. It's rush hour and I realize the situation is reaching a critical point so I get up and go ask the bus driver if there's any chance we'll be across town in about 20 minutes. His look said it all: "Not a chance in hell." We're still fairly close to my house, where the car is sitting in the garage. I have a decision to make. I get off the bus, run to my house, cursing all the way there, jump in my car and pray there's no traffic on my secret "back route" which usually takes at least 20-30 minutes. I have about 20 left, and I'm desperately trying not to behave like a race car driver on crack.

Miraculously, I arrived at the studio three minutes before the start of my class, completely stressed and out of breath but I had my playlists, so life as I knew it could go on.

Pavement and my ass: two things that should never meet unexpectedly

I recently caught a severe case of fallis on assis on a busy street in front of a gaggle of pedestrians. There's nothing quite like public embarrassment to keep it real, you know? The culprit was a patch of black ice. I know what you're thinking: "Why is there ice to contend with in April?" Well, this winter has been particularly harsh, the kind of winter they're referring to in Game of Thrones when they say "Winter is coming."

I've started commuting via bicyclette and it's still colder than a witch's titty out there. I know, WTF right? So, I'm riding my bike down a busy street, all proud of myself for paying attention to parked cars and people coming out of them (as a cyclist, parked cars can be a menace if a door opens and you're unprepared) but what I fail to notice is a light turning red at a pedestrian crosswalk.

I keep going merrily on my way when I realize I'm about to run over someone innocently crossing the street. Shit. Slam on the brakes. Except, double shit, ice. Back wheel fishtails forward and gains serious momentum due to frozen water underfoot. So much momentum it drags the rest of the bike and me along with it until I find myself flat on my ass. WTF just happened.

Then I hear tidbits of conversation among the onlookers: "What the f*ck! Look, there's ice. Are you ok?" Once I realized I hadn't run over anyone, I felt marginally better, except when I tried to get up. My left knee hurt like a mother f*cker. But my ego was already severely bruised so I pretended like everything was ok, and rode off to continue my trek to the office.

I was shaken up by the sudden trauma of public embarrassment but I managed to arrive at work in one piece. However, I realized my knee had sustained some kind of injury. But I was a trooper. I wasn't gonna sit around all day, feeling sorry for myself. I went to the gym over lunch and realized that my knee actually felt better when in motion and worse when static for long periods of time. Weird.

I was really bummed out when I thought I might not be able to run for a while because of my sore knee but the boyfriend said I should probably keep moving it, so I did, and realized I can still run. Good thing too because I just started up again after being unable to run due to my frankenvein (aka vericose vein) treatments over the last three months. At first, I was all like: "Universe, what up yo?" but now I'm like:" Ok, it's cool, everything still works".

So the moral of the story is: there shouldn't be any ice left in April. (global warming my ass...)

The Code

You know, sometimes I wonder why I bother trying because every time I think I'm all that, lookin' good, feelin' hip, something reminds me that I'm pretty much a walking dufuss.

There was an incident, not too long ago, when I had just come out of a business meeting, went to the bathroom and saw that I had a big ass clump of mascara under one eye, leaving a trail of black ooze on its descent toward my cheek. The code was violated. No one told me. I'm sure someone saw something yet said nothing.

There is a code, people. A nice way to tell others they have something terribly embarrassing going on, and that they better rectify it immediately or risk being labeled "that freak".

You see, I go to the gym on my lunch hour, and on that particular day, which I've now dubbed "mascara mayhem", I had inadvertently made the mistake of not checking my makeup before heading back to the office.

I had just finished an especially challenging spinning class and sweat like a hog. You'd think I would have stopped in front of a mirror to assess the situation. What can I say? Sometimes, I ain't plugged in. So I went merrily on my way, thinking for hours that I looked socially acceptable.

Except I didn't. And those surrounding me remained silent. Do I exact revenge, or decide to forgive? The next time someone has a big honkin' piece of spinach stuck in their teeth, maybe I'll just smile and nod. When there's a trail of toilet paper under someone's shoe, and they're dragging it around like an idiot, I might take a secret video and post it on YouTube. I'm not a forgiving person.

Too much cleavage? I'll laugh as everyone stares in either disbelief or lust. Ass crack hangin' out? I'll point it out, yelling "plumber's butt!". Muffin top over too tight pants? I might ask: "blueberry or chocolate chip?"

Have no doubt, the evil giant has been stirred and is not content. I spend far too much time obsessing about my appearance to simply forgive others for letting me walk around looking like I've been punched in the eye. That ain't cool, yo.

Say it ain't so Joe... (I don't know who Joe is, it's a saying, just roll with it)

There I was, innocently perusing the Huffington Post when I came across not one, but two harrowing headlines: 1) a photo of Family Guy characters with the heading: Ending Soon? and 2) '30 Rock' may end this season. In the words of Elaine Benes, from the infamous Seinfeld episode The Contest: "Okay, you tryin' to hurt me? You tryin' to hurt me? You're tryin' to injure me, right? You're tryin' to hurt me..."

Seth MacFarlane has mentioned that there would still be a Family Guy movie every few years  instead of a TV series, but still. What about those years in between movie releases? I get that TV shows have a certain shelf life, and some do pass their expiration date. However, I don't feel that Family Guy has reached that point. 

I was kinda hoping it would be like the Simpsons, seemingly lasting forever. I want to say I understand where Seth is coming from, since change is inevitable and we need to embrace it but if I'm truly honest... f*ck that shit! You can't take away my weekly dose of Family Guy! What will I DO? 

It's the only antidote to political correctness, right-leaning religious fanatics, impotent journalism, broken democracy and vapid entertainment. In other words, it's a necessity to true democratic discourse. It's an anthropological record of 21st Century social mores. Are those enough fancy words strung together to sound like a seriously pondered argument? Good. I have no idea what they mean but they sound intelligent. 

Like that wasn't enough trauma for one day, I find out 30 Rock may be nearing its conclusion. I worship at the altar of Tina Fey. The very thought that this show might end is inconceivable. Why can't it go on indefinitely? I know Tina's had another kid, and Alec Baldwin would like to pursue other projects but c'mon people, you can't leave us in the lurch. 

You can't shower us with your brilliance every week, then just walk away. That's cruel. I mean, if there were other prospects out there, 30 Rock's absence might not be such a frightening thought and, like a break-up, it's always easier when a rebound is lined up, you know? But it ain't a "great comedy" buffet out there, if you get my drift. Shows of this caliber are rare which is why we cling so obsessively to them.

If you're going to produce socially-relevant, jaw-droppingly clever, thigh-slapping, laughter-inducing material, you should resign yourself to the fact that you can never, ever quit.

Fun things to do when experiencing rage and despair

I've been under some serious emotional strain lately dealing with... difficult people. It hasn't been pretty. I left half a lemon in my desk drawer instead of putting it in the fridge. I haven't been on Facebook for like, a week. My boyfriend's giving me pep talks every night. It's f*cked up. So, I've been thinking of a few things that might be fun to do and may help me feel better...

1 - get completely smashed while watching the three Twilight movies on a continuous loop

2 - write a heartfelt letter to my Member of Parliament (that's the equivalent of a Congress rep for my American readers), asking him why the sun has stopped shining in my heart, and could he please get back to me ASAP otherwise I may drown in a pool of my own tears

3 - start my own version of America's Next Top Model - I would get to be Tyra Banks.

4 - get a shirt made with New Hampshire's motto Live free or die and wear it every day

5 - drink five caffeinated Venti Starbucks lattés in a row then try to meditate

6 - switch to a bacon-only diet

7 - adopt a pet rock, adorn it with a blue rhinestone collar, name it Wilson and bring it everywhere I go

8 - eat a "family-size" bag of Cheetos in one sitting

9 - write a dissertation on the benefits of slovenliness

10 - find out how many cosmos I can drink before passing out

She lives no longer...

It seems my beloved feline companion, Phoebe, ran out of lives. She never completely recovered from that respiratory infection / chronic kidney failure combo she had a couple weeks ago so we decided to put her down last Friday. She could no longer jump up on furniture or chase a fly, her quality of life had plummeted. She was a walking corpse.

However, her mental acuity never waned, not for a moment, and that's what made this decision so difficult. Mentally, she was still all there but her body just couldn't keep up. And I couldn't watch my once feisty, active cat wither away and watch life instead of participating in it. 

Not gonna lie, it was f*cking sad. The worse part is that I knew it was coming. When we put Phoebe's brother down a couple years ago, it was the same day we made the decision. He was in a very bad way and I felt we needed to act immediately. I could not watch my little cuddle bunny suffer any longer. However, with Phoebe, she didn't seem to be in any great physical agony, despite being very weak and emaciated due to her kidney condition. 

So we scheduled her appointment, and had to wait two days since that's when our vet would next be in. It was perhaps the longest, most agonizing two days ever. But it did give me the time to cuddle with Phoebe one last time, brush her and make sure she had a yummy meal before we took her in. Our vet was amazing and the staff at the clinic very sensitive to our situation. Considering the sad nature of the event, it couldn't have gone any better.

My boyfriend and I stayed with her to the very end. As with her brother, I had this strange feeling that, on some level, Phoebe knew what was going to happen, and was ok with it. She looked at me one last time, without a trace of panic or fear, as if to say it was ok, she understood. Then, within a matter of seconds, she was gone.

We decided to donate Phoebe's things to our local SPCA since we don't plan on having more pets for a few years. That visit was very heartening. We returned twice since we had forgotten some things the first time around, and on our second visit, some of Phoebe's toys were already out for the shelter's cats to play with.

I also noticed how these cats were brimming with energy and vitality, and when I picked up one especially enthusiastic young cat and lovingly held her, I was astounded by her energy, weight and healthy plumpness. It was then that I truly realized how sick my cat had been and that we had made the right decision.

It's still strange to come home to a pet-free house. It's quiet and very clean. I suspect we'll have more cats in the future but for now, I'll let myself heal from this loss. It's astounding how quickly those little furry creatures get under your skin and into your heart.

Goodbye my sweet little girl cat.