Commutable Diseases

Every morning and afternoon I step on the train I risk becoming an excessively grumpy customer as I am confronted by the excessive rudeness of a large number of humans. Like the guy this morning who really needed his personal space to very slowly read the top stories in his reader on his iPhone. Yes, I'm belittling his reading pace. He also seemed grumbly about my being as close as I was. Well, see my friend, in the morning at standard commuting hours (let's call them 7:30-9:30am) you run the risk of public transit being crowded. Hey, I don't love it, hence much of my griping in this here blog, but it would be better if people stuck to certain rules of politeness.

Someone is exiting the train, and you are blocking the doorway. You step off the train and get back on. I know it's a mad rush, and others are trying to storm on from the new stop, but you'll get back on. And then you want to keep that space right where you were, except that the new folks need to get in there, and that requires getting around you. Simple concept, but complicated enough it would seem that walking and train riding could become Olympic events.

Anyway, since I've written probably those exact paragraphs above probably a half-dozen times in here, let's talk about Taylor Swift and have me point out that we should stop talking about Taylor Swift, the old Catch-22. Try as I might to avoid her though, I'm sure to see her peddling goods at Walgreen's, further proof that for however much I understand marketing, I'll never approve — unlike Ms. Swift, who I guess approves all sorts of Walgreen's goodies.

But hey, she's got a formula, it works. I did find it amusing when my girlfriend and I saw her on the cover of one of those big time magazines at the grocery checkout and there was a headline about her dating a Kennedy, which she's already no longer doing. It's sad that a) I know any of this and b) this magazine's December issue was prepared apparently so far in advance that this story that must have been written ages ago would just now be seeing the light of day.

As for the light of day, there are all kinds of nice lights these days, as it is holiday season. I can be a bit of a Christmas grumpus, but the lights look damn nice, and I think they warm the soul through the otherwise bleak winter (which technically doesn't even start for 3 weeks). Some pleasantness must be there in the hibernatory months. What's that, hibernatory not a word? Oh well, if I just keep typing hibernatory, perhaps some bloke'll toss it into the dictionary. Maybe I can be the top hit when people search "hibernatory."

See you in December.

Back to Work...Slave

Having recovered in large part from leg surgery, I jumped on a 6:30am train and made my way into the office for the first time in precisely five weeks. One can get used to working from home, let me tell you. There is a certain solitude on the 6:30am train as opposed to my more rotuine 7:47am. Certainly the train was less crowded, and it was also one of those relatively spankin' new double-deckers. As it was, at Secaucus, the last stop before New York, an oafish fellow sat down next to me, despite many other open seats. Brief disclaimer: I expect to sit next to people on a commuter train during peak hours, I just ask that you not be a jerk or, in this case, smell like baby food vomit and old diapers. Maybe it wasn't this guy giving off the scent, but circumstantial evidence points in (draws stench lines emanating from) his direction. Man sits down next to me, bad smell ensues. Perhaps not causal, but certainly corollary.


Ridiculously cute bunny for pretty much no reason. Photo credit: The GF.

I was in the freezer section of my local grocer the other day and I always have to see if there is ice cream on sale. My brand of choice is Edy's or Dreyer's, depending on your coast. And while they are my favorite ice cream from the freezer section, they have gone the way of Dannon yogurt, and decreased their package size and kept prices the same. Ice cream drop-off was from 1.75 to 1.5 quarts (~14%), not as significant as the the yogurt drop from 8 to 6 oz (25%). I don't know if companies think this is clever and people don't notice but I NOTICE. In this case it's actually just as well, as I tend to eat containers in one-to-four sittings, so my arteries are probably thankful to not be flowing with as much ice cream, but still. The cost of everything is going up, and while that is a bummer for those of us without boatloads of expendable income, all I'm saying is, don't try to lie to me about it. You can't pull the wool over my eyes, unless it's cashmere, because otherwise that shit is just so itchy.

In medical irony news, you know how at the end of commercials they always give those disclaimers about the possible side effects of the medication and how you should ask your doctor? With the pleasant female or male voice, meant to be soothing, probably so that you're not like, "oh shit, this might cure my diarrhea but cause internal bleeding and memory loss? Oh man, and maybe rectal bleeding? Not again..." This is where I should insert a great link to one of said commercials, but a prime example is escaping me. The point is, the potential side effects always strike me as way worse than whatever it is they're supposed to be curing. Maybe it's not perfectly ironic in every case, but this Elidel bit fits the bill. After all, Elidel is a prescription cream meant to deal with eczema but, according to that case, is being linked to skin cancer. Tough call, but I might choose eczema.


Also, I'm thinking I should learn Krav Maga. Sure I've been in pretty much zero fights in my life, but you never know.