“As most of you know, I am not eating refined sugars. It is my inexpert opinion that refined sugar was put on this earth to taunt those who cannot eat them. Same goes for butter and cheese. To all the diabetic and lactose intolerant people out there: kudos to you. Big kudos. The kind of kudos you would shout up to Yao Ming because he’s so tall and probably can’t hear regular-sized people talking. Sound waves just don’t travel that far.”
Posts Tagged ‘club’
Lasting Effects
Posted in Daily Life, tagged Ballet, Bantamweight, bridesmaid, cheese, club, Dance, DanceTeq, fitness, refined sugar, Rocky, Sucralose, Yao Ming on February 14, 2011 | 4 Comments »
Tale of Two Cities: First Days
Posted in Daily Life, tagged Ballet, cheese, club, fitness, honey, HORN, Hunky, milk on July 22, 2010 | 1 Comment »
“The first thing Hunky and I did in Tel Aviv was hit the club.
What else can you do at 5am when you’re hours late for check in at your hotel?”
“This is not a simple jazz fest. It is a full-fledged symphony with all the brass. I know better than to drink real milk. Very bad girl.”
High: 80ºF
Posted in Daily Life, tagged club, Dance, Hunky, lunch, Solstice, summer on June 23, 2010 | 1 Comment »
“Summer officially began this week.
“Well, Solstice, you’re approximately one month behind. To catch you up on my summer so far, here are key highs and lows from my exploits these last 4 weeks.”
Take It To Court
Posted in Daily Life, tagged bridesmaid, club, court, courtship, epilation, hair, Juliette et Chocolat, Midnight Casanova, Sex and the City, sunflower, wax on June 7, 2010 | 5 Comments »
“I get courted all day. From dawn until 10pm. This courtship takes many different shapes and forms. It can be a smattering of kisses across my forehead, cheeks, chin, and mouth, ending with a bite on my nose—usually a little too hard—or with my entire face in Hunky’s mouth. Sometimes the courting comes in text message format with lines like, ‘I luv that girrrrl named guapi!’ or, ‘Can’t wait to see ur fazul and smother it in you-know-whats!’”
Putting Out Fires
Posted in Daily Life, tagged Ballet, chess, club, Dance, Firemen, fitness, Hunky, kisses, love, Magnolia Bakery, New Yorker, Rosie O'Donnell, smile, Stuart Weitzman on May 18, 2010 | Leave a Comment »
“In any city, I hate to be a tourist. I get this from my Mum. Whether she is in Paris or Mexico City, it is imperative that the inhabitants believe she is in her hometown. She accomplishes this with outfits: chic pantsuits with kitten heals in one city and breezy skirts with Weitzman sandals in another. I, on the other hand, use attitude. When I’m dragging my suitcase through Columbus Circle, attitude is the only way to get by. The New Yorkers on the streets thought I was returning from a glamourous trip abroad instead of hopping from one apartment to the next. It was my usual Visiting Fireman routine.
“Visiting Firemen: Term developed by Dear, my paternal grandmother.
Definition: People who speed from one location to another, dropping quick hellos and goodbyes like hot potatoes. I know firemen don’t throw hot potatoes at fires. Just roll with it.”
A Tactical Error
Posted in Daily Life, tagged club, Ender's Game, fitness, Orson Scott Card, Psyche, shower, strategy, Waving Unagi on May 2, 2010 | Leave a Comment »
“My overly-dramatic-when-upset mind concluded that Crazy A was going to invite me into her prostitution ring. Or worse, become my pimp. When I finally calmed down I realized that she was a harmless, slightly eccentric woman who hadn’t yet adapted to Western culture. Perhaps in the East people dress more conservatively. Perhaps a fitted dress is the sign of a prostitute. No! Calm down, I reminded myself. She did not think I was a prostitute and she did not want to introduce me to her pimp. That settled, I went back to my reception duties.”
The Games We Play
Posted in Daily Life, tagged audition, Ballet, club, game, Hunky, Les Grands Ballet Canadiens, Les Sylphides, spy on March 6, 2010 | 2 Comments »
“Does Victor work with Les Grands Ballet, I wondered. My recent audition for the company was a mild success. I lasted longer than I expected before they cut me. I’m unsure if my brief bout of gastro the previous night was a stroke of bad luck—causing fatigue and dehydration—or if it was good luck—defining my muscles and making me slightly slimmer. I was mentally reviewing my performance that day when I was rudely biffed on the head with a handful of freshly folded towels.”
Reality TV
Posted in Daily Life, tagged club, fitness, Hunky, smile on February 14, 2010 | 3 Comments »
“It’s difficult to decide which is more entertaining—the trashy TV or the members themselves. One older gentleman introduced himself as James Bond. I wasn’t fooled. His gym card said Peter in big bold black pen. Another younger gym buff makes a big loud show in front of me every time he enters or leaves the facility. “And remember, Bob,” he bellowed from across the reception desk, “your wife will love it.” Sufficiently repulsed, I stood up to fold some towels. Bob proceeded to tell me that the gym buff suggested waxing Bob’s chest. Bob is approximately 65 years old. I doubt his wife has been waiting through forty odd years of marriage for the day when he finally waxes off his rug. If gym buff was trying to discreetly inform me of his hairless chest, I am not impressed. My Hunk has the most wonderful hairy chest and if he ever suggested waxing it, I would pinch his nipples, and not in a good way.”
