people say she’s crazy…

Just sayin’ hi, and also saying:

1) Passover has almost passed over, and I am ready. I have eaten way too many eggs in the last week, as well as some questionable combinations (peppers, onions, peppers salad, tater tots topped with nacho cheese and bacon–look, I eat bacon on a regular basis, so just because I keep Passover doesn’t mean I suddenly start keeping Kosher during Passover!), and my body is, as expected, revolting. It wants its staples–lean cuisine pizza and salads with ranch dressing, soup for dinner and organic yogurt. Seriously, that is all I eat. Oh, and also beer.

2) E! News Weekend (which I um, happened to catch yesterday) and all the celebrity blogs this morning were atwitter with the news from the hottest, latest nightclub in New York, where the likes of a bunch of blonde, pantiesless addicts with too much money, their manwhores, and Justin Timberlake (who is none of those things–kisses!) were spotted coming and going together and separately, all weekend long. It’s the new hot spot! Look at all the wunderkinden and throngs of photographers!

Normally I would not bother to mention this to you (Mom, KP, Tubby, Lowe, JC, other stumblers) because that’s not what I’m here to do. I am here, however, to point out that this NEW HOT palace of the priveleged is called PARC. If you went to Northwestern, that stands for nothing but the Public Affairs Residential College, aka the dorm for annoyingly ambitious prelaw and American Studies students and a handful of people who applied to the General Fun Residential Colleges (Willard and I guess Chapin?) but didn’t get in. I can say that because I am friends with some of them (annoying and rejected, NU’s student body in a nutshell. Oh hi, prospective students!). Anyway it’s funny. I enjoy picture Lindsay Lohan drunkenly standing in that weird concrete-walled area at Parc’s front door, frantically Sidekicking her people to get her in… to their newspaper reading room.

3) Look at this. I gave her my heart, she gave me a peep.

4) I want to be Liz Lemon when I grow up. I may have mentioned this here before, or just to some of you in passing. The moral of the story is that if you are not already watching 30 Rock, you should be. Yes, that is in addition to the Office. The rest (even Grey’s, in this drawn out third season, and ANTM, in Cycle 9,000 full of crazies and a mail-order bride, if you can believe it) is inconsequential.

5) I have read some books. My Goodreads will be updated in the coming week or so to reflect this, and then I will copy and paste reviews here, in case you are not already my Goodreads friend. Which you should be.

6) Yesterday, for the second time in a week, I fell off a treadmill with great zest. Yeah, I know you’re supposed to stop it before you try to get off, and you’re supposed to stand on the outsides and then step off, and the kicker is that I DO all of that stuff. Really! The problem is that I come from a tradition of “just hit Pause a zillion times when you are ready to get off (typically about 2 minutes into the cooldown) and it will think you are freaking out and stop and clear your info.” So far in my life, this has been a successful enterprise. However, apparently, some of the treadmills at the Meatmarket Bally’s disagree. They think that when you hit Pause once, you want them to pause, but that if you hit Pause again, you want them to restart.

What ensues, then, if you are me, and a repeat-Pauser in hopes of getting a full stop, is that if you hit Pause an even number of times, the treadmill actuall restarts. So let’s say you’re me, and you step to the sides and you pound the Pause a few times and take a sip of your water and then (fortunately) screw the top back on, gather your iPod in your other hand, and move to get off the treadmill. What happens if this is a Meatmarket Bally’s treadmill? You obviously drop your water and your iPod as your legs are dragged out from under your unprepared torso. And then you have to get on the treadmill next door (thankfully unoccupied), since yours is just now getting up to full, un-paused speed, and fish out your iPod from underneath the flying band of death. And just to make things a little cooler, you bang the back of your head into the armrest thing on your way up.

Anyway, try not to be me. And if you know how to stop a treadmill the real way, the way that works, please let me know. I am tempted to hit the emergency button (that is for emergencies only, right?) attached to the cord you’re supposed to attach to yourself. I like that treadmills come with emergency buttons and pullcords like they are jetskis or something. Even workout machines have delusions of grandeur!

That is all for now, for monday. Some ends are shorter than others!