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Tired of fruit that doesn't perform miracles?

Miracle fruit; non-miraculous hand

So yesterday I’m reading this story in the NY Times about these special berries—called “miracle fruit”—that alter your taste buds for an hour or so after you eat them, making beer taste like chocolate and sour taste sweet. (It’s a story that ran May 28, apparently, so it’s not screamingly timely but that’s what happens when I read the newspaper online—I don’t know what the hell I’m clicking.)

Anyway, there are these secret roving parties where people get together and eat berries and go nuts, turning into crazed flavor slaves who drink maple syrup and rip the arms off couches to eat them or something. Well, maybe not but I’m pretty sure they ate masking tape. (note: They did not eat masking tape.)

I have a few thoughts about this:

1) I would be tickled if this turned out to be the Emperor’s New Clothes. I don’t know why, there’s just something pretentious about it that makes me want it to be revealed as mass hysteria.

2) All this talk of berries makes me think of when my sister and I were in London a zillion years ago and couldn’t stop laughing at the summaries of the porn movies offered by the hotel. This is a paraphrase, but it was something like:

When Rosalind and Alan go to a forest, they are told whatever you do, don’t eat the berries because they will make you do all kinds of sex. What do they do? Eat the berries!

3) If you’re looking to goose your taste buds, there are cheaper ways to do it than spend two dollars a berry. Herewith, some budget options:

a) If you eat really spicy food, everything will taste like spicy food for a little while!
b) If you eat glue, everything will taste sticky!
c) If you drink hot chocolate and burn the roof of your mouth, everything will taste like sandpaper!
d) well enough of my ideas which I ran out of… let’s hear yours!

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Spanx

Despite the fact that I mentioned them on Fox & Friends this morning, I don’t actually wear them. I don’t mess with that extremely uncomfortable shit. Not saying I wouldn’t ever, but just that I haven’t.

Also please applaud my restraint in not writing “Spanx for the memories.”

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The corn lied!

What kind of world is this when even vegetables feel pressure to lie about their age? Here is the front of the can:

Note how it says “Baby Corn.” But then you look at the ingredients and it says this:

INGREDIENTS: YOUNG CORN, WATER, SALT

Now I’m not going to lie. I like my corn young. The younger the better. I’m like the cougar of the canned produce world, so I don’t know how to feel about this. Mostly betrayed, I guess.
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Update: I'm actually on F&F at 9:45am tomorrow

Remember when I said I was going to be on at 9:15am? I meant 9:45am. Reset your alarms.

Also, either I’m hearing some kind of crazy spat in a nearby apartment building or it’s performance art. If so, I think its title should be “Some Kind of Crazy Spat.” That’s not very performance arty though. Perhaps: Sum Kynde of Crayzee $pat. I would totally pay to not see that.

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Goodbye Eddie, Hello Jason

Like many of you, I’ve always assumed that if I were going to accidentally kill someone it’d be from drunk driving, not an air conditioner unit falling out my window. Call me an optimist. So yesterday I’m tending to my pet penguins when I hear this popping sound. I think it must be something electrical but instead my window suddenly opens a crack and my no-longer-beloved A/C unit tilts precariously. “Oh no!” I said aloud to no one. The rest is kind of a blur because my heart started beating as my brain cycled through the following scenarios: A/C unit falls and kills someone—that would suck. A/C unit falls and busts open and I’m out the money of the unit and also responsible for whatever damage it causes to whatever it falls on—that would suck. A/C unit falls and rips part of my window/wall out with it—that would suck. But these scenarios were cycling very fast. Just images of death and disaster and courtrooms and money in brief flashes. Also periodic swatches of the conversation I’d had with Eddie where I kept asking him if he was sure he didn’t need [various part] and he said no and that the unit “wasn’t going anywhere, sweetheart.”

View to a kill

So I don’t remember opening the window more but I must have because I somehow am holding the unit with one hand and trying to reach for my phone with the other, not sure exactly who I’m going to call. It dawns on me that even if I reach someone I can’t let them into my apartment if I’m holding the near-dangling unit with one arm. It occurs to me to call my sister but I don’t know which location she’s working at–the one that’s far away or the one that’s really far away. There’s no way I can hold this thing for the amount of time it would take for anyone to show up. I feel very much like someone holding on to a branch in a cartoon or like someone who’s keeping a person from falling off a building by just holding their hand as they hang there. Like “Don’t worry, I got you, oh no!”

So I realize I have no choice but to pull this thing inside. I begin bringing it toward me and water is now spilling all over everything. Nothing fragile though, just some power strips, all my computer cords and various other electronics. Also a game of Trivial Pursuit 20th Anniversary Edition which really isn’t very fun. Get soaked for all I care, Trivial Pursuit! I pull my computer chair around and hoist the unit onto the chair using the Herculean strength afforded me by the panic. At least I assume that’s what it was because both my legs are bruised and my finger’s cut up and I didn’t feel it at the time.

Just where I wanted it

Anyway, now I’m tired of telling this story, but Eddie came back and didn’t impress me with his ability to put this in there in a way that’s any more secure (he wouldn’t follow the instructions in the manual and wouldn’t use the bolts/nuts/brackets) so I had to haltingly say “I’m sorry, I believe you but I’m just too uncomfortable to risk it. I’d like a refund.” “You don’t believe me!” he said. It was true, I didn’t, but since when am I in a relationship with Eddie? Jesus. So I haven’t seen that money yet but my lawyer sister is none too happy with this whole situation. I kind of just want it all to go away.

In the meantime, Jason from a professional A/C installing place is coming tomorrow. I think I love him already because he sounds like he knows his shit, but then, mine is a heart too soon made glad.

The thing is that when Eddie said “It’s not going anywhere, sweetheart,” I actually allowed myself to be reassured, like when the guy who rodent-proofed my apartment kept calling me sweetheart. But no more. From now on I am angry! I’m like an Oxygen movie.

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At the gym; spin class

I'm taking a spin class and I'm early so I decided to read some of the instructional posters on the wall and I'm reading about foot eagles and putting your feet in foot eagles which I'm assuming are the little foot holder things attached to the pedals. It's dark in here though and really I'm reading about foot cages, I just realized. It makes so much more sense but I liked them better when I thought they were inexplicably called foot eagles.

It smells like tennis in here.

Everyone's now pedaling but the instructor isn't here yet. Hm.

Wait, now it smells like a hair salon.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

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Now I can finally get a pet penguin

Air conditioner not actual size

It’s officially too cold in my room! I can die now! And if I did, I bet I’d leave behind a refrigerated corpse that wouldn’t even begin to smell for a long time, that’s how cold it is in here.

But how, how did I manage to achieve such coldth? I considered asking many of my strapping man friends to help me install my A/C and then I called up Eddie from the hardware store. 65 dollars later I’m officially not dying of the heat! Hooray!

(note: “help” in this scenario means install it for me while I stand there)

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a wrinkle

Update: I now have an A/C unit that’s too heavy for me to lift sitting in a box in the middle of my bedroom. It’s 72 pounds. The amp I used to use when I played in a band was 80 pounds. I was thinking that while that was heavy, it wasn’t impossible for me to move it, but then I didn’t ever have to hoist it into a window. But maybe sometimes I had to lift it up onstage? I can’t remember now. Probably other people did that for me while I conveniently stole away to the bathroom to fix my glitter (we were a shiny band). I’m an asshole like that.

Now if you’ll excuse me I’m going to go buy milk and when I come back I expect this air conditioner to be properly, safely and magically installed.

Note: If I come back to find this air conditioner installed I will breath a sigh of relief and then call the cops. Do you hear me, inanimate objects in my room? I’m talking to you, hair dryer! No funny business, folded towels! Yeah that’s right, don’t pull any fast ones on me, fingerless mittens. I’ve got my eyes on all of you.

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