Cooler than You: Stupid Things I Say and Do

Among the muck, the parka-wearing, the shivering under layers (the real cardio of winter), the pains in every limb and joint, the inability to breathe . . . among all that, not long ago, I fond myself at a private reception at The Met.  Okay, so it's no secret that I've long held The Met as a favorite, on sunny days, on the other side of the moon, when I have a day with nothing to do and no deadlines I'll spend a carefree day there.  Or, I'll just spend a few hours there when I can't stand the fight anymore.  Come to think of it; I should be there now. To dream, as we say. Back to that reception, which sounds swankier than it is . . . Professors got a night, for free, replete with free cocktails at the end.  I mean, seriously, people.  Who in her right mind would turn down free booze AND art? Not I, that is certain.  So, a friend from grad school and I met up and let ourselves into The Met, and then we spotted for which walks and talks to atte...

There are points in your life when you wake up and find that your orchids have died, your yogurt is expired, your coffee is stale as you dug out the cast off bag of grounds in the back of the fridge you tossed aside for a "rainy day" (three or so years before) as you didn't care for their grunge, and your only pair of clean pants are a pair of jeans that even an alcoholic troll would find unattractive on you.    There are points . . . Now, now is one of those for me. I should probably be ashamed about the oddities of my expired yogurt, but--yeah-- here are the things.  It's bacteria anyway.  Also, with as much Pepto as I've been drinking these days can it make it any worse? The Lupus drugs are a bitch, the side effects are a nightmare, and  . . . What? I'm a glass half full kind of gal, so I'm thinking perhaps inside one of these expired yogurt cups we will find the secret to eternal salvation, a cure for these disgusting side effects, and maybe an end t...