MORE SHORT TAKES

Thank G-d, I live in this country for a little over twenty years. In this time I have managed to "adapt" to the good life. Sometimes, however, I still find myself in funny situations. One ordinary working day, I was doing "my usual": eating lunch and filing. For the "vegetable component" of my meal, I brought in a can of peas, which I just opened, and then proceeded to consume straight out of the can. Couple of guys stopped by to chat, and both of them were duly horrified by the fact that I was eating cold peas. A moment of mutual amazement: they can't comprehend my consumption of cold canned legumes, and I can't comprehend their astonishment. Ah, chuck it off to my childhood; after all, they will never appreciate the beauty of procuring deficient food items, or the deliciousness of the "Oliv'ye" salad due largely to those cold peas.

As heard on Leno: apparently, there is such a thing as "beady eye vegetarians". Translation: if something has "big, sad, soulful eyes" like a cow, it will not be eaten. If something has tiny beady eyes like salmon, it will be. Leno jokingly added that that sounds very LA: if you do not look just right, you would be eaten!

There are a few people in our office who are a bit on the neurotic bend. But one time somebody went a bit too far. Yours truly had to stay late to put the final touches on the payment requisition to the much respected New York City Department of Design and Construction, which, aside from preparing the said requisition (which is no mean feat), also requires submitting it in four copies. So, I went to the lower level to run those copies, and upon my return discovered that somebody took their evening routine a bit too seriously: they shot the lights, set the alarm, and locked all doors. And here was I, standing on the over side of the glass door, hugging the effing triplicate copies of the payment requisition, and longingly looking on my coat, which was hanging on the other side of the door (and which apparently the neurotic co-worker, busy with regular routine, failed to observe).

One of our junior architects was looking forward to his long weekend for about a month, and he was very vocal about it. On the Friday of his departure he mentioned his early leaving only about six times. Finally, that time arrived; he collected his belongings, and run out the door, barely remembering to say good bye. So, imagine my surprise when he re-appeared about fifteen minutes later. Poor schmuck was so excited; he left all his electronic devices at the office.

The closest book store to our office is Border’s. Unlike earth-sustainers, I do not see any harm in taking a plastic bag when needed, and then saving it for future use (and unlike them, I do not yell about it). Anyway, I had a good accumulation of Border’s bags in my drawer, and I used one of them to put my leftovers in the fridge. Next day, I went to check the fridge for those leftovers, and saw another Border’s bag in there. Ah, I thought, somebody else is doing the exact same thing. But then something about this other bag drew my attention; imagine my amusement when I realized that the second bag was also mine, and contained something else that I brought to the office and forgot about.

It looks like establishments serving kosher burgers have interesting concepts of what constitutes what. If you ask for well-done, you are going to get it burned. If you ask for medium, you are going to get it well-done. Just don’t request medium-rare, if you are not in the vicinity of a grill when you receive your order, because usually it requires additional cooking.

Recently, I had two separate and unrelated discussions with two Obama supporters. Both of them expressed total disbelief and incredulity upon discovering that it looks like our current so-called President’s IQ is only about 127. Speaking of somebody’s brilliance!

As told by one of my co-workers. He has a friend who is a social worker. At her place of employment, they do not get reimbursement for the cell phone usage; instead, they just get twenty five dollars a month towards whatever cell phone expanses they may incur. So, one day, when she realized that her battery was low, she just connected her phone to one of the office outlets, and continued with her work. Her supervisor, upon observing this, accused her of “double-dipping”, since she already receives her twenty five bucks for this. To which she replied that she would love to disconnect her charger, providing that the supervisor would take care of all the clients who would be unable to reach her in the event of the phone dying. Ah, administratium at work; what a thing of beauty!

Another gem from Leno’s monologue: “Recently, Iranian doctors discovered that drinking hot tea may cause throat cancer. This is the first thing they are not blaming on the Jews.”

SOME MORE SHORT TAKES

Everyone who knows me is very familiar with my stance on illegals; but what I really want to put into law pronto is this: anyone who does not bathe, change clothes, and, MOST IMPORTANTLY, does not use deodorant, GETS DEPORTED IMMEDIATELY and mercilessly. I think people who ride the subway (especially during the summer) will sign my petition.

Another pet peeve: I love when people start sharing personal information after a fifteen-minute acquaintance. Case in point: a sales rep who visits our office from time to time once offered me a piece of gum. I politely refused, stating that I do not usually chew gum. "Really?" - was her surprised reply - "Well, I always carry it, with my breath!". Did I really need to know that?

A fellow blogger once dedicated a post, completed with pictures, to the not so bright truck drivers who periodically get stuck under the Q Train tracks, because they do not pay attention to the clearance signs. Well, yours truly once witnessed two trucks, coming from the opposite directions, both getting stuck under the blessed Q train, and subsequently blocking Avenue P on Friday afternoon. Let us just say that was one of the few times when I was duly grateful for the fact that I do not drive.

A triumph of my assertiveness on the subway: putting down my big butt on the bench that was designed for four people, and where three men were comfortably sitting before my arrival.

Ultimate irony: when I bought myself a new prayer book, cashier did not deactivate the anti-theft device properly, and I started beeping by the exit. But here is my question: how can you pray using a stolen prayer book?

Notice on the e-bay action: "After few recent troubles I had with the lost packages, I will no longer ship to Russia". Gratifying to know that very few things changed in step-mother country.

I do not precisely remember what Bridget Jones considered as a "unfortunate laundry crisis outfit", but to me it ended up being a full goth regalia: black top and black skirt (completed with standard for New York winter black shoes).

I do not care about the logic and reasonable explanations: seating on the subway opposite a guy who was studying a diagram of female reproductive organs was just plain yucky.

Another funny bit: I did not get any birthday cards on the actual birthday, but I did get two cards a day before: one was from my Mom, and one was from my dentist.

One fine morning there was a little commotion in our office due to the fact that an entire team was ready to depart to the job site, but the project manager was missing. Long story short, poor guy called his second in command with apologies and a following explanation: "two Polish guys came in this morning, took off my apartment door (for the fridge delivery), and disappeared. I can not leave the house till the door is re-attached."

Few days ago I took fluffies out to an ice cream shop. Mini Not Me just kept trying to sneak candies; ice cream did not really stir him. Mini Me, on the other hand, usually takes very serious approach to her selection. Till recently, it was only a choice between an ice cream you can eat (a cone or a cup) and an ice cream you can drink (a milk shake). This time, she requested to be picked up, so she can view the selection better. I obliged and started rattling off all the flavors; she perused the entire selection very, very carefully, and finally made her choice: "Pink".

MORE SHORT TAKES

PS to the chair story: before he went on his grand tour, the big boss asked me to locate a receipt for the "second generation" chairs. Since that was before my time, and I am still to finish cleaning all the old files left to me by my predecessor, that dubious honour fell on the poor senior partner who sometimes doubles as an office manager. Yours truly, in her turn, had to locate the receipt for the "last generation" ergonomic chairs. Why all the brouhaha? He wants to buy new chairs for the office, and he has to decide which ones are more cost effective.

Last week I came to work with a pacifier in my bag. I think I can safely say that I was the only single woman in New York (not working in a pre-school) to manage such a feat.

My blogging is beginning to interfere with my work duties; yesterday, when I wanted to open a new file in Word, it asked if I wanted a blank document or a blog entry.

I definitely need more sleep; autopilot continues to malfunction. Last week I wanted to wipe my face with a nail polish remover instead of a clarifying lotion.

Observed on East 34th Street: two young ladies, approximately college seniors, walking one bright sunny afternoon, each holding a headdress made from fresh bay leaves. Did I miss the Roman's Triumph March somewhere in the Midtown East?

One of our NYC clients "performed as expected": they have misplaced a whole set of drawings.

Due to a fantastic sale at Border's I have achieved a status of the off-season St. Nick (or Russian Ded Moroz) in the eyes of our Golden Delicious. Now, as soon as I drop by, she has to immediately check my bag for a "prize". She also figured my game quite early, even before the sale. Every time I ask her to guess what prize I have got for her, the answer is always the same: sweet, slightly mischievous smile, bright eyes, and "a book?"

MORE SHORT TAKES

When my nephew was born, one of the first edicts issued by his proud and poleaxed father was that he should get new clothes and not wear his sister's hand-me-downs. What he meant, of course, was plain and simple "no pink for my son!" That went well up to a point; being of practical nature, my sister decided that nothing is going to happen if pink is evident on the baby boy when there are no witnesses. Case in point: one time I was about to lower him in his crib, when something struck me as strange. After couple of seconds I realized that his usual crib sheet was in the laundry, so, his Mama used the reserve we used to use for his sister. Yes, you guessed it: it was nice, bright, gorgeous-baby-girl-pink.

Another "only in New York" moment: there is an assisted living house next to me that is run by Catholic charities. At the end of last Passover, on recycling day, there was a whole bunch of bags for recycled paper that were filled with matzoh boxes (I assume they were recreating what they thought was the Last Supper).

Sometimes the extend of my neurosis bother me at bit (although you would never guess it lately, judging by the state of my apartment). Anyway, reassurances are always abound. One time, while I was doing my laundry, I had a chance to observe a couple that offered me one such reassurance. I was not sure as to the exact nature of their relationship, since he looked much older than her, but there was no striking resemblance present. Anyway, that was not the reason they attracted me; what really caught my attention was that they were obviously germophobic. Imagine my amusement when I realized that they wasted about two and a half hours to wash about ten towels, nothing less! Definitely puts my obsession (alas, absent lately) to do my laundry on the weekly basis in perspective.

I had an LA-born roommate who prided herself on the fact that she could out-drink Russians; of course, after she explained precisely which Russians she out-drank, her claim became sort of laughable. Here is another chapter from her drinking diary. One fine late afternoon on December thirty first, she and a couple of her buddies decided to go to Times Square and witness the Ball Drop. By the time they arrived, they were, to use her colourful expression, "drunk out of their asses". So, here they were, freezing, but happy, waiting to witness this wonderful part of the New York life that New Yorkers usually observe from the comfort of their living rooms. Imagine their surprise when everyone started yelling "Happy New Year", and they did not see anything. Upon further investigation their realized that their drunken behinds, and not their drunken faces, were facing that Ball.

Only people with my educational background and in my age category could understand the attraction of Angelique; it is impossible to explain it rationally; you just have to experience the whole thing under these particular circumstances. Americans, of course, usually have no idea about the books or the movies (one time when I will not say that their cultural exposure is deficient). Anyway, imagine my surprised delight, when I have wondered into Barnes and Noble, and saw all five movies on DVD, in French with English subtitles! Further imagine my delight (but not surprise this time) when I saw that these movies are about 135 minutes in length, and not 75 minutes as was standard in Russian cinematography.

Another terrible confession to my sister: I got baby books for both munchkins, and I had great ideas as to what should be written in them. Unfortunately, it never went past the ideas.

I am not a morning person, and never was. I am not really awake till about three hours after I have actually left my bed. Thankfully, I am very capable of operating on auto-pilot. Unfortunately, sometimes auto-pilot does not function one hundred percent, and, not being awake one hundred percent, it is very hard to figure out exactly where the malfunction is. Two separate episodes: one time I came to work knowing perfectly well that something was amiss, but could not put my finger on it. Finally, into about forty minutes of work, it dawned on me that I did not brush my teeth. Oh, mama! Thank G-d I always keep a toothbrush and toothpaste in my drawer! Another episode: I kept wondering about the state of my hair. I mean, I am not fussy about them that much, but it looked like the shampoo I was using had to be changed. Eventually I realized that I never shampooed my hair that morning! I just wet my hair, and that was it. Thankfully, I am pretty sure I am save from leaving my house minus a skirt or a top (although there are no guarantees).

Some days I really feel my age (thank G-d at least I do not show it yet!). Anyway, here is one of my senior moments. I wanted to mail something to my sister, and for the life of me I could not remember her address. Total blank! Finally, an inspiration struck: I decided to check my Gevalia account, since my coffee usually went to her address. Thank G-d for auto login!

Sometimes I wonder if it pays to show initiative and use your brain to capacity at a modern work place. Recently, our company switched to a new accounting system, which eventually created chaos and backlog across the board, but that is a different story. Anyway, there was a whole brouhaha about training everyone on how to enter our time logs in the new system. After about five minutes into that training I realized that two sentences of instruction would have sufficed, but what do I know. Anyway, while everybody else struggled and puffed, I was the first (and only one) to finish and print my time sheet that Friday (granted, I only perform one task). Anyway, on Monday I was red-flagged as the only person in our office who did not finish and submit her log. What the hell?!!! After about five minutes of deductions I found out that apparently, over the weekend, our wonderful IT overhauled the whole program once more. So, anything you did on Friday was null and void; only things done Monday morning counted. As I said, efficiency does not pay.

ANOTHER BUNCH OF SHORT TAKES

I love the way computers point out your mistakes! Recently, I was trying to book a flight for my boss to our main office, which is in Columbus. So, at first I tried JFK (which he prefers), then La Guardia. Apparently, at some point I was typing too fast, because the poor, confused Expedia screen warned me that there were no flights between JFK and LGA!

Another one of my pet peeves is the way people mangle language. Apparently, cell phones are now a days called "blackberry". Not only this, but the last time somebody asked me for "blackberry number", he was also, in following with another great tradition, trying to simulate the twiddling of nubs on blackberry, to emphasise his point. Every time I see this, I always remember a great quote: "Do I point at my crotch when I ask for the bathroom?"

My dyslexia, thought slight, is a constant source of exasperation and amusement for me. For example, I love Chinese thick rice noodles, as apposed to thin ones; but for the life of me, I could never remember which ones are "mai fun" and which ones are "chow fun". Every time I think I finally got it, I always end up with thin ones. Ah, food is food anyway.

Another language quirk: for a few weeks now, my niece got into habit of not just saying "no", but saying "nope". I do not know about her parents, but for me, the exasperation is always tempered by the adorable picture. I know, I know, eventually it will pass; but for now, I am enjoying the moment.

An entertaining Manhattan moment: a bike messenger who carries his packages in a huge shopping bag with "Elle McPherson Lingerie" logo.

Guys can never get sick or suffer quietly. The truth of that statement was once again visited on me recently, when one of my co-worker got a kidney stone. Not only was I treated to the whole story of when and how, but, at one point in the saga, he treated me to the fact that, apparently, he did not yet pass the stone, and now he is supposed to go to the john with some kind of sieve to check. Believe me, that was way more when I needed to know, especially considering the fact that, due to quirky design of our office, everyone passes my desk on the way to the bathrooms.

I love the way people always jump on the current fashionable bandwagon. Case in point: Mendy's provides pretty expensive looking napkins, and they are take for yourself kind in the take out session. Recently, a sign went up next to those napkins: "Please be green: one napkin per customer". That's a bit rich from Mendy's, considering that they do not recycle their cans and bottles.

I love the way people are trying to advertise their stuff on e-bay. Sometimes, it borders on the absurd. Recently, somebody was trying to sell a Cinderella-themed watch, claiming it's unisex. I can only imagine any poor boy whose parents or guardians decide that it's OK for him to wear this watch, and the years of therapy he will require as a result!

A terrible confession to my sister: every time I shop for a card, or just find myself in the vicinity of cards, I always eye the ones that congratulate with impending baby, or congratulate with arrived baby.

Speaking of babies: congratulations to my niece! Somewhere between Purim and Pesach she got the first ever dress dry cleaned!

Another Manhattan moment: a young girl (probably tourist) got a potato knish at Mendy's and ended up photographing it with a very expansive-looking Nikon. She took about ten shots from all different angles before consuming it.

The best compliment I have ever got: "For a religious fanatic, you are pretty normal".

A BUNCH OF SHORT TAKES

The spring is in the air for me when I visit one of the many bargain hunter's stores and peruse a fresh crop of flip flops. By the same token, sandals or flip flops in August are sold on clearance because the season is over; it is over for everyone but yours truly that is, for whom August is just a second beginning for sandal season (end usually comes mid October).

A glass or can of Diet Coke is a true staple in Modern American cuisine. I rediscovered it this Spring when my date decided to dare the fare in an Indian restaurant, agonized for almost half an hour about his order, finally ordered, and completed his order with, you guessed it, a can of Diet Coke.

This past February my body performed its usual winter routine and succumbed to some kind of vile bug which necessitated my taking antibiotics and, consequently, being quarantined from my yummy gnomes. I decided to use my "time off" wisely and do the usually unthinkable for me stuff, mainly: beautify myself a bit. As part of that routine I got a hair cut in Manhattan. Even though I lucked out and ended up paying about six dollars more than I would have paid had I gone to my usual half dump next to my house, the excellent service I received felt like I overpaid at least a twenty. The poor hairdresser, though, got the shock of her life when she asked me what products I usually use for my hair. "Shampoo and conditioner" was my reply. Ah, the priceless look on her face and the exclamation "that's all?"

This past Sunday I was able, to use a Yiddish expression, shep nachas. My sister's kids apparently absorbed the profound lessons I have been giving them: for about five minutes they were busy sticking their tongues and blowing raspberries at one another, smiling all the time.

Even the most expensive neighbourhood in our fair city, otherwise known as Upper East Side, is not protected from two things that plague the entire New York City: the constant drilling of the rodes and side walks, and the dog poop.

Apparently, poor Bard scares more people than just the professors at Teachers College. I remember when in my second to last semester at college the head of our English Department went around asking people if anyone would be interested in a class on Victorian literature, one girl looked at her with scared eyes and timidly asked "Would we have to read Shakespeare?"

My slightly elevated body temperature is, like almost everything in life, both a blessing and a curse. The biggies appreciation, though, came two Sundays ago, when my nephew took an unheard of before three hour nap in my warm embrace.

Dentists scare everyone bar none. I rediscovered it a while ago when I was walking home one fine evening and was accosted by a self-proclaimed psychic who wanted to tell me about great love waiting for me in the near future. To that wonderful news I replied that I was just returning from a dentists' office and could not really pay her much attention at the time. This defense worked like a charm, and I was allowed to continue on my way without further forays into my non-existing love live.

The concept of wine with six percent alcohol content exists exclusively on the Kosher market. Poor friends of my brother's have discovered this interesting fact last New Year. He naively recommended to them getting the above mentioned six percent champagne for the festivities. Poor wine store clerks and poor NYU students, both wasting about half an hour in total confusion!

Desperation brings forth talents that you otherwise would have never suspected you had. A couple of months ago my niece was stuck with a poorer substitute for her usual bather (Mama), namely me. Understandably, she protested the injustice of the situation. So, in desperation, I handed her an extra wash cloth and tried to show that it produces bubbles on its own. When that tactic was meet with a lukewarm success, I boldly continued. I took another washcloth and told the poor child that we are going to play a game and sing a song, and then I proceed to sing a song of my own composition that went something like this: "scrub, scrub, scrubity scrub. Scruby little Eh, scrub, scrub. Scrub a left hand, scrub a right hand, scrub, scrub, scrubity scrub, scrub, scrub". The melody was also of my own invention and went along the lines of an exercise for the right hand for the beginning piano students. Anyway, imagine my surprise, when a few weeks after that episode the big gnome was stuck with me at bath time again. She smiled, run to the bathroom, opened the cabinet, found a pack of those disposable wash clothes, took one out, and started rubbing her little hand with it, smiling at me and saying "scwub, scwub".

Found on one of the many, many accessories I got from the Disney store: "Laughter is timeless. Imagination has no age. And dreams are forever."