Cooler than You: Stupid Things I Say and Do

So today I got to utilize one of my newly re-instituted benefits . . . vision insurance.  I get vision via my bargaining unit of UUP, so I'm stoked.  Not so stoked that I've got my first cold of fall, had to schelpt to Kew Gardens, spend time in Jamaica, and get out of bed today.  But, I am stoked that even with my fever ridden self I got to spread my special breed of germs along the subway lines from Astoria to Kew Gardens while feverishly running to Davis Vision.  Why? I broke my glasses earlier this week, so life was not as crisp as it could be.  No fear, the hinge on the old purple pair is repaired and the new pair should be in next week.  Rest assured, fever or not I will trot myself over to pick up the new specs.  The doctor asked my age, and he was more than taken aback that I am not twenty-four.  Nice, subtract a decade from me . . . it's all good.  He noted the I looked flushed and glowing like a twenty-something.  Perhaps, it w...

Sitting on my stoop I overhear tib bits of conversation and life.  The trails of conversation are never endless, and more often than not they are downright amusing.  Today was no different. On this delicious autumn evening a man stood on the sidewalk yelling to the window three floors above.  "You emaciate me! You drive me crazy!" Female voice from above, "What you talking about asshole?" "Always making me do your shit. Get your tampons. Get your bras from the laundry." "Yea, well most men would be happy to do it.  You get to be with me!" "Fuck you and your emaciating!" Perhaps someone should help this poor soul out.  I believe he means emasculate, not emaciate.  You know, since emaciate means to make someone abnormally skinny.  He was not, with his beer gut and all.  I should also not that several weeks ago I saw a burly dude walking down the sidewalk with a hot pink laundry bag slung over his shoulder and a handful of g...

All across the land, colleges started classes recently.  I, being a henchman in the adjunct world, started my courses at two campuses.  Yawn.  Stretch.  Unload backpack and shuttle to next school . . . In the midst of shuttling and teaching and sucking in air amusing moments always occur.  Don't get me wrong, I do what I love and love what I do . . . but sometimes you just gotta be like: What? What's going in that head of yours? Seriously? Seriously. Yesterday I sent a few of my teaching peeps an email with blurbs of the following.  Go on, read.  There's more in here than the email yesterday.  If you don't laugh at some point something is wrong with you. So here's to the first two weeks, or one week depending on how you look at it. Week One: Women's Studies. I passionately discuss the need and history of the discipline.  I tell my students that looking at articles and scholarly reviews are inherent in what we do, but that we also must...

Just in case you were wondering if I really do have Lupus I have some pictorial evidence for you. If I could upload the pain, I would do it in a New York minute. And yes, this marks a new kind of day.  I'm showing people my rashes.  Ignore the flabby arms; if you saw me two months ago you know I look much better now on the size front.  As for the butterfly rash, I might show you that someday . . . though I wouldn't hold my breathe if I were you.  I should tell you that I sent the pics via picture mail to my 'rents first this time.  Eh, I figure they might like to know first . . . Want the story . . . As I schlepped through five miles Thursday, I felt my arm start to burn. Well, it had been itching for days. Seeing red blotches sporadically appear is nothing new, but to see this (on both arms) was unpleasant.  It was more painful than normal as I still slopped through my last two miles.  What?  You really didn't think I was going to sit...