Tuesday, January 31, 2006

South Beach In Flames

Today I ate half of a chicken quesadilla for luch.
With a real tortilla, made of real carbohydrates, of the super-bad enriched white flour variety.

It was really yummy.

Sunday, January 29, 2006

Really, Don't Ever Do This In A Bar. For Real.

So last night, I'm bartending. Just like I always do on Saturday night, because my life is predictable like that.
Anyhow, this man comes in alone, and stays for a very long time. But, he doesn't drink that much, so it's not a problem.
He seems very friendly--talking to random people that come up to get drinks, and what-not. Over the course of the evening, I find out that he is visiting from Chicago.
The only time that I had any notion--any remote inkling of feeling--that there was something weird about him was relatively early in the night...
I was talking to another guest, and in the process I set my right hand on the bar and was tapping my fingers. This man in question reaches out and puts his hand over mine--when I automatically look over at him, he asks me "are you nervous? you're tapping your fingers..."
I respond that I am not nervous, though I did get a little creeped out by the hand touching.

Because, as stated in a previous post--
It. Is. Not. Okay. To. Touch. Your. Waitperson. Ever.

Anyway, that was the only weird thing that happened. And, really? It wasn't that weird. People definitely touch the waitperson more than they ought to.

So, later on--way later on--it's about 2:25am and we're kicking everyone out of the bar.
The man in question happens to be the last person in the bar, sitting right across from where I'm standing and wiping down miscellaneous bar items.

And then this conversation happens...

Man I have never seen before in my life: So, what are you doing when you get off work?

Me: (still not figuring out that this man is up to no good) Oh, I'm going to straight to bed. I have to take my nieces out to breakfast tomorrow.

--remember, this conversation is taking place at 2:25am--

Man I have never seen before in my life: Well, I have a hotel room around the corner, if you want to stop by.


ok, I didn't say anything. Instead, I sort of ran away and pretended to be busy. And I'm not proud of that, at all. Because here's what I should have said...

Me, in retrospect: Are you fucking kidding me? Please say that you're kidding me, because I find it completely disenchanting to think that I live in a world where someone who I've never met before would think that there is even a small chance that I would get off of work at 3am and go to the Nasty Stanky Hotel down the street to do God Knows What, and Are. You. Fucking. Kidding. Me?

And whatever.

It should also be noted that on this particular Saturday night, I wore a hooded sweatshirt and baggy jeans to work.
Not exactly a come-and-get-me outfit, to say the least.

Beat that, Pete.

Thursday, January 26, 2006

Southbeachification: Day, umm, oh fuck...can't count...too hungry.

As of this morning, I have lost 6 pounds. Well, six pounds on one of our scales, and only 5 pounds on the other. Seriously, though? I have always suspected that scale to be mean-hearted and stupid.
As of this morning, I also feel like total dog shit.
As of a half hour ago when I ate dinner, I can only eat a small amount of deli sliced ham and a slice of tomato before I start to feel like that man in the movie Seven...you know, the one who was forced to eat until he literally ate himself to death? Even though before I sat down to eat, I was so hungry that I might have eaten my own foot, if I was sure there wouldn't be too many carbs in it.
As of Wednesday morning, I was introduced to the idea that carbohydrates have a secret function as being an amazing alcohol absorption tool. Which means that if you aren't eating carbs, you probably shouldn't drink alcohol. (they tell you not to drink in the book, but that rule seemed stupid to me).
As of Wednesday, around happy hour time, I conveniently forgot all about those ideas.

As of right now, despite everything, I'm still glad that I'm doing this.
6 pounds is good, and every morning when I get on the scale and see another pound gone, I think that it might be possible to continue eating plain old grilled chicken with no rice or anything at every meal for the rest of my life...
or at least until I lose ten more pounds.

I do not care about my health, people.
I care about my waist.
p.s. number 2
I'm just kidding. You know that, right?

Wednesday, January 25, 2006

southbeachification day 2 (almost 3)

am so hungry.

so very, very hungry.

but, also weigh 3 pounds less than i did on sunday.


nothing tastes as good as being skinny feels.
that's what they say.
i'm hoping to find out for myself...

Monday, January 23, 2006


i am now enjoing a chocolate cookie, because tomorrow...

south beach diet-ification begins.

this is the only sure-fire way i know to lose weight quickly. and don't say that i'll just gain it back, because last time i did south beach (in july) i lost fourteen pounds, and i didn't gain that back. oh, except the 6 pounds that i mysteriously gained in one day last week--which i'm sure are just some kind of sick joke, and should be going away at any moment. but even if they are for-real-here-to-stay pounds, than i think it is still pretty good that they stayed away for 6 months.

but, the times? they are a'changin. fourteen (or 8, depending) pounds is no longer considered acceptable pound lossage in tiffany world, because i will be going to key west in four and a half weeks. and, key west? is sooooo much more fun when you can actually put on a bathing suit without vomitting all over yourself.

and so, south beach diet-ification begins.
it won't be easy, but it's not all that terrible either.

and it should provide many stories worthy of ramble-icious bloggings.
and, really?
what's more important than that?

Thursday, January 19, 2006

A Week in the Life: A Study in Mundane-ness

Thursday, January 12: Wake up at 11 am, because for some reason I am not over New Year’s in Vegas jet lag. Drag lazy self out of bed and work out for 30 minutes. Sit down for a while. Take a shower. Go to official second day of graduate school. Decide that I hate graduate school very much and also wonder how I will manage to read 35 novels—among other things—in the next 12 weeks. Want to cry. Instead, come home and watch ER. ER is good. Try to go to sleep, but then the unresolved jet lag thing again. Think about posting some sort of blog, but just end up looking at stuff on Ebay for an embarrassingly long amount of time. Finally fall asleep at 4am.

Friday, January 13: Wake up at 8am, to work out. Laugh at alarm clock and go back to sleep. Wake up again at 8:45 to take a shower. Go to work. It is very, very busy at work and a lady is rude to me. But then I am rude to her back, so Ha! And then my boss thinks it is funny that I was rude to her, so ha again! After work, go out to dinner and bar with friends, because one friend is moving to Prague next week, which sucks. Dinner is fun, but the bar is funner. My roommate is very drunk and funny. We take 87 thousand pictures of ourselves on my friend’s digital camera. Proceed to leave roommate at the bar, drunk, and go to see my boyfriend.*
*In my defense, I did put someone in charge of her drunk self before I left. And it was a hot guy, so I think that deserves at least a few good-looking-out points.

Saturday, January 14: I won’t lie—I woke up at noon. Then I came home, ate McDonald’s (gross, I know), and went back to sleep for another hour. Because sleep is my friend. Wake up again. Work out. Shower. Go to work. Suck, suck, and suck, until 3am when working is over. C4ome home. Think about writing something on blog, but instead search for a condo to stay in when I go to Key West next month. Finally go to sleep at 5am.

Sunday, January 15: Wake up at 10 am, hating life very much indeed. But cannot go back to sleep, because I have somehow gained 8 pounds since I went to bed (what the fuck?), so I need to work out, and then I have to go to the grocery store and prepare some sort of food item to take to my mom’s birthday party. Which is today, at 4pm. So, work out, shower, shop, and prepare food, blah blah blah. Go to brother’s house for birthday party. It is fun, mostly because I have 3 little nieces and 1 nephew who are funnier than Chris Rock and Robin Williams put together, I swear. Party ends. Get home at 1am, and watch tape I recorded of Desperate Housewives and Gray’s Anatomy. Because I have desires too, people. And, sadly, they include bad television.

Monday, January 16: Wake up at 11 am. Because it is a double holiday—Martin Luther King Day, and the Golden Globes. Very exciting. Work out, go tanning, and clean apartment so that friends are not disgusted when they come over to watch the Golden Globe Awards. Friends come over. We drink champagne. We eat snacks. We cry when Reese Witherspoon wins, because we LOVE HER! And we really have been meaning to see that movie, too. Golden Globes end, friends leave, I attempt to begin a weeks worth of homework at 11:30pm. Which explains why I am still awake at 4am.

Tuesday, January 17: My first class isn’t until 3:30pm, but before class I have to go to work and make next week’s schedule. Because I am important like that, as far as you know. So, wake up at 10am. Work out. Shower and whatnot. Go to work. Perform intricate schedule-ification of servers and bartenders. Rush to class. Sit in the same stupid brick-walled room for 6 hours. Finally escape to the bar, for the my-friend-is-moving-to-Prague-party, v.II. Which wasn’t quite as much fun as v.I, but which was still enjoyable. Then go back to the bar where I work and chat (and eat pizza) with my friend until 5am. Which explains why…

Wednesday, January 18: I should actually get credit for waking up at 11am. Go tanning (early Key West preparation). Visit with broken-armed mother for a while. Go to bookstore and spend 13 gazillion dollars on books which I am expected to read in the next 11 weeks. Return home. Work out for 55 minutes (an improvement) and then sit in front of computer, reading and writing, for 7 hours. Try to go to bed, but cannot, due to everlasting jet lag and snoring boyfriend. Final fall asleep time? 5:30am.

Thursday, January 19: Wake up 9am. Do not want to wake up, but do anyway, because I must go to work and then go to school. Day isn’t looking so promising, but that’s life. Shower. Work. Not so bad. Go to school, also not so bad. Get home from school at 9pm, and roommate has made dinner for me. Life is good. Prepare to watch ER, but it turns out to be a rerun. Consider this a golden opportunity to get started on reading for next week. Instead, decide that I really most post some kind of new blog entry, no matter how stupid it is.

Wednesday, January 11, 2006

Lurkity Lurk

So, apparently it is national de-lurking week.

Which means that blogging is taking over the world, and also that many people are secretly reading a lot of blogs. Otherwise, why would we need a whole week devoted to de-lurking?

Anyway, I think we should celebrate.
I now cordially invite anyone who has been reading this blog without commenting to introduce themselves.

People of blogland, de-lurkify!!

Of course, there's probably not anyone reading this blog, except the people who comment already.
But just in case...

And, you can totally comment even if you think I suck.
For real.
I know that I am stupid. It is a well established fact, that I re-prove to myself all the time.

Except, totally do not tell me that I suck.
That just wouldn't be nice, and would destroy the joyful spirit of de-lurkness.

amber? emily? mom?
i am talking to you.

Tuesday, January 10, 2006

to mac, or not to mac: that is the question.

hello people.

i now come to you for advice.

i am going to buy a new computer.

it's not a grave necessity quite yet--but it could become one at any moment, so i figure i should go ahead and get a new one now, while i'm not the poorest person on the face of the earth.


i now have a dell pc, but i'm seriously considering buying a mac.

here's why:
1. i can get a mac mini with a cinema display monitor (love it!) for $1400. Or, I can get an imac with a widescreen monitor (in which the entire computer is in the monitor, which is still basically flatscreen) for about $1200.
2. i very much want a widescreen type monitor. you may not be aware of this, but i spend ALOT of time in front of my computer, and i feel this time would be far more enjoyable in front of a widescreen-flatscreen type monitor. why? because it is cute and expensive, of course. also, i hear it is easier on the eyes. and is also cute and expensive.
3. my stupid boyfriend has the bestest mac possible, and if i have the mac, too--it will mean that he can edit his movies at my house, and that i might get to see him once in a while. although, i really don't want to be the type of girl who buys a strange computer system because it's what her boyfriend wants.
4. alot of people that i really respect swear by macs.
here's why not:
1. macs are scary to me.
2. red, green, and yellow buttons seem way more confusing then the minimize and maximize buttons that exist in the pc world.

oh...umm, that's all.

does anyone have any advice?

if i get another pc, does anyone have an idea of which one i should get?

please, help!

Thursday, January 05, 2006

Another Open Letter to Airlines--or, Why I for Real Hate to Fly, Extra Ramble-icious Style

Some of you may have read my previous post "An Open Letter To Airlines," which I think can be found under the entries from mid-November 2005. In that entry I discussed the horrible hatred that I feel for Airline-Industry-decision-making-type-people, and you should probably check out my archives if you don't know what I'm talking about.
Mostly because I used to be far more interesting than I am now.

Anyhow, I have recently returned from the vacation that was discussed in the above-mentioned post.

And while that vacation was--well--fabulous, to say the least, I would like to take this opportunity to address the one completely sucky aspect of my vacation: flying on airplanes.
So, here we go.

To: Delta, United Airlines, Northwest, Continental, Spirit, Song, American, Southwest, and blah, blah, blah, whatever and ever.
Re: Incredibly Higher Levels of Suck Than Previously Noted
From: Tiffany, Who Hates You Very Much Indeed.

Dear Asshole Airline Type People,*

Why do you refuse to think?
I am confused by this, because I would assume that it would be very difficult to manage to send thousands of people flying through the air to thousands of places every day, and that this job would require lots of thinking.
But apparently, that just is not the case.

For example, you sent me to Atlanta on the way to Salt Lake City from Detroit. This doesn't make very much sense, because it takes 4 hours to fly to Salt Lake City from both Detroit and Atlanta. So the 2 hour flight I was forced to take from Detroit to Atlanta on the way was just extra-bonus flying time, I guess. Only, extra-bonus flying time doesn't exist--so let's just call it what it is, 2 extra hours spent precariously flying 35,000 over the Earth in a very small tin-can looking type compartment with a fat snoring person next to you.

Which leads me to my next complaint...
I know that your industry has taken a hit since 9/11, and I try to feel for you. I bring my own food on the plane because I realize you can no longer afford to feed us on flights that are less than eleventy-hundred hours long. But I just do not understand why you can't sit me next to the people I'm traveling with any more.
I have been flying all over forever (I used to not be scared of it) and I think maybe one time I had to sit apart from the rest of my family. And you airline people were very apologetic about it. Which is not at all what happened on this trip, where you didn't allow us to check in online 24 hours in advance--which I hear is pretty standard these days--and then didn't check us in for our connecting flight when we checked in at the airport in Detroit. We landed in Atlanta 37 minutes before our connecting flight was supposed to leave, and when we tried to check in we were placed in all sorts of random areas of the very large plane (you know, the 2 seat/3 seat/2 seat kind) and were told that it was good news that we could get seats at all.
Good news that we could get seats at all?
Silly us. We thought that the $550 we paid for the tickets would get us a seat.
And also, when I'm sitting next to a lady that is traveling with her 15 relatives, and they're all rowed up happily together on the plane--it really makes me wonder why I can't sit next to the 2 people that I'm traveling with, you know?
Anyhow, we got on the plane.
Because, as stated in the previous post, going on vacation is fun.
And I had taken my xanax and was really doing quite a good job of pretending like I was okay sitting by myself, and I didn't even cry or throw-up on myself when we took off.

But then the next thing I have to complain about happened.
I was seated on the right aisle of the middle three seats of the airplane, in the 2nd row behind 1st class. Which I was initially happy with--because in the middle of the airplane, it's easier to pretend like you're somewhere else--until I realized that one of the things you can no longer afford is enough flight attendants to take care of a Boeing 737.
This was a very disappointing realization.
I was excited when I found out that the movie Cinderella Man was going to be shown on the flight, but no one ever offered me a headset. I asked the flight attendant who was patrolling the aisle 2 seats to my left 4 separate times for a headset, and she told me that someone would be down my side of the aisle to give me a headset. But no one came until they came offering drinks, and then they said they'd be back with a headset. But they never came, either. And so I had to sit there, right under a huge lit-up screen showing a movie that I really wanted to see--with no headset.
Meanwhile, I could see the flight attendant assigned to 1st class hanging out 5 and a half feet in front of me, but I couldn't get her attention. Apparently, it was beneath her to help passengers seated 2 feet behind the first class curtain, even for 4 seconds.

When we returned, we waited in line at the Las Vegas airport for 25 minutes--waiting at the United Airlines desk, because our tickets said we were flying United Airlines. When we got to the desk, we were told that we had to wait in the America West line, instead, because the flight was operated be America West. Even though it didn't say America West anywhere on our tickets or Itinerary.
Then we waited in the America West line for another hour, which culminated with the desk-guy smiling as he gave us our boarding passes--3 middle seats in completely different parts of the plane.
So, I took matters into my own hands.
When we got to the gate, I went up to the desk and started crying, asking them to seat me with at least one person I was traveling with so that I wouldn't throw-up on myself. Which wasn't exactly a lie, because I usually do throw-up on myself on airplanes.
Anyway, the nice gate-lady--apparently the only person of sound mind working in the entire industry--promptly put all of us together.
Which really begs the question, why wouldn't you just put us together in the first place?
Is it too expensive?
Or are you just not thinking?

Work with me, people.

Because I love going on vacation**.

Tiffany, Queen of Complaints

*Asshole airline type people does not include my cousin, who designs airplane seats. I see that as very separate, indeed.

**A non-complaining type entry documenting exactly how much I loved this particular vacation will follow. Someday.

Meanwhile, please note that I'm struggling here. Now that I'm done with school, I find I have far less to complain about. It's really putting a damper on my style.
I can even find a way to complain about life being good.

I knew I had a talent...

Wednesday, January 04, 2006

In Which I Tell You That I Am Still Alive


I still exist.

I had to forsake the internet for a while in order to go on a very fabulous vacation, which I will tell you about later. Like, tomorrow. Or something.
Because right now I am far too tired--I'll just say it has something to do with just getting back from Las Vegas.
Enough said, I think.

Anyhow, many stories to come.

Such as:
Why I for real hate flying on airplanes
How to make money in Vegas
Being far too close to a stabbing
Realizing for the eleventy billionth time how amazing your family is
How to drink all the vodka in the world and live to tell the tale
Tiny geometrical food
How much it sucks that Jennifer Aniston showed up at my hotel 10 minutes after I left
--and actual pictoral evidence that I may, in fact, actually be the queen of the world.

For now, however, I think I will go to sleep.

Because, sleeping?
It doesn't happen much in Vegas.