Tuesday, August 25, 2009

Death by Jenny Craig

Don't get me wrong, I have nothing against fat people. Or maybe I do. But that's besides the point. I just really hate it when their life choices start interfering with me. This morning a delivery man kept incorrectly buzzing my apartment from downstairs. After the first buzz I just let him in like I do everyone else since I work from home and the FedEx people have figured this out and won't leave me alone. Then as the buzzing continued I thought it might be doing irreparable damage to my sanity, so after 15 minutes I went to my intercom and asked him who he was looking for. "Lenny Freeman" he said exasperated. "You've got the wrong person." Buzzzzzzz. "I'M NOT LENNY FREEMAN!" "I meant to say Wendy Friedman." "I am neither of those people." "Well I have your diet food delivery!"

Ah, so it was clearly not for me regardless of the name. "Listen, I don't eat diet food nor do I need it, so please stop trying to push it on me. What apartment are you looking for?" He told me the apartment number from downstairs. Ah, that bitch from below finally realized she was fat and ugly and was going to do something about it. "You need to press the button below mine." I calmly told him. Buzzzzzzzzz. I tried to ignore it. Buzzzzzzzz. "STOP IT!!" "Come down here!" Oh yeah right like I was going to come meet that maniac. "LOOK if you can't get this girl her food that is NOT my problem. It's probably her fault she's fat so let her gain weight and just leave it downstairs or eat it yourself but please GO AWAY."

There was silence on the other end. I didn't know if he had been let up and was coming to murder me with his bags of diet food or if he had just left. But the irony of it all was that I had been about to grab lunch and was now scared to leave my apartment. So I had to sit there, starving, and thinking about how I could probably use any kind of food at the moment even diet food. Maybe this is how this program makes you lose weight. They send scary angry men to come yell at you through your intercom until you are too frightened to exit or let anyone in. Probably slims you down faster than South Beach.

Tuesday, August 11, 2009

What are you trying to tell me?

I received this Washington Post Quarter Life Crisis article today from more than one friend of mine, plus a few family members. I thought that this was my favorite quote from the piece:

"At the same time, Seppinni said, technology is breeding a generation of online sulkers. No longer limited to sharing their woes at the family dinner table or while hanging out with friends, quarter-lifers have countless opportunities to brood in blogs and on Twitter and Facebook -- anytime, anywhere. And finding fellow victims to commiserate with is never more than a click away. 'Depending on your character and moral outlook, you'll seek like-minded people, and they are all over the Internet. Someone inclined to be depressed can find people who corroborate. . . . It also leads to focusing on a lot of drama and nonsense.'"

But no... then I got to the end where they were talking about the girl who the entire article was focused on, and how she followed her passion:

"For Buchanan, losing her job turned out to be the push she needed. Blessed with more time to work on her blog, she realized her real passion lay in writing. Now she hopes to make a living from it. 'It's a hard path, and it won't be easy,' said Buchanan, whose fiance is helping to pay the bills while she builds her portfolio. 'But I know what I want to do now, and I have the supportive base to get me there.'"

So you are happily engaged and your fiance is willing to pay for you to do nothing but write? Tough life there champ.