P-P-Poker Face at the Workplace

Riding the escalator
with Gandalf the Grey -
just an average occurrence
on a normal workday?

I think, "Isn't he fictional,
pals with Frodo and Sam?
So why am I lucky enough
to see this great man?"

Later on that day
I take a short break,
walk myself to the restroom
and for goodness' sake,

I spy an older man in a onesie,
a member of the cleaning crew,
sporting the world's greatest mullet,
a most surprising corporate hairdo.

And on my way home that day
as I'm walking out the door
a man whooshes past me
and I think, "When it rains it must pour."

For he too had long hair -
How much more can I bear?
He had a dreadlocked ponytail
and I couldn't help but stare.

Maybe it's not so weird after all,
and I should try to keep a straight face,
when I encounter men with long hair
at the workplace.

Fasting Frustrations: A Top 5 List

I walk into work today at around 8am, grab myself some coffee and a piece of fruit. I walk to my desk, settle down, eat my fruit, and drink my coffee. Then I get an email from a friend, "so how's your fast?"

Fast?? Oh, [insert expletive here]! I am a moron.

Because, you see, today is a fast day on the Jewish calendar - the 17th of Tammuz. And I usually try to observe all of the fasts throughout the year to the best of my fasting abilities.

Today, I just plain forgot.

I instant messaged my Jewish coworker today, A-Pizzle, to see if she remembered to fast. She didn't either, therefore, to make ourselves feel better, we came up with a list of excuses why it's okay for one to not fast. I will give full credit to Miss A-Pizzle, since she masterminded this whole meshuge list.

And here it is... the top 5 reasons why it's okay to forget to fast:

5) We are Jewish, haven't we suffered enough?

4) Because you won't have any awkward encounters with other Jewish coworkers in the kitchen, like on normal, non-fast days.

3) Because fasting doesn't give you any energy to mourn.

2) Because sometimes overeating is more painful than undereating.

1) Because we'd rather sing "Eat It" instead of "Beat It", in honor of Michael Jackson.

Will Mel and A-Pizzle continue their day eating and adding items to the list? Or will they start fasting from scratch? Stay tuned!

The Jekyll-Hyde Within

Everybody pretty much knows that I am more sleep-deprived now than I have ever been in my life. But there's this little part of me that kind of enjoys it... that little part of me is my "other side", my very own Jekyll/Hyde personality that only emerges when the bags under my eyes are larger than a Hilton sister's overnight travel luggage.

Last week, I didn't sleep a wink. Over the weekend, I barely managed to get 10 hours altogether. I went to bed late Friday night, couldn't sleep Saturday night, and procrastinated Sunday night. Monday night, I went to a concert and got home late... and that brought me to Tuesday.

Yesterday was an interesting day in the life of my other half, my very own Hyde, Myde as I like to call it.

Myde Scenario #1 (Tuesday, June 30th):
I'm at my desk at work, it's about 11am. I get a phonecall from a client about designing something for him, and he literally repeats himself 10 times. I tell him "I know, I know, I understand", yet he keeps saying the same thing in different ways, in his very nasal-y, anal-retentive-y voice. I start snickering on the phone as he's repeating himself yet again. I move the receiver away from my mouth so he doesn't hear my laughter. I stop laughing and re-enter the conversation. He's still going over his ideas again. Finally, he gets sick enough of his own voice and decides to end the conversation. We hang up and I start cracking up to the point of tears. I go over to my boss to tell her what happened and we both start cracking up. Apparently, it was funny even though I thought I was only laughing because I was sleepy.

Myde Scenario 2 (Tuesday, June 30th):
I get up from my desk to go to the ladies room, walk inside the last stall, and realize that I have something stuck to the bottom of my shoe. I bend down to unstick it, and as I stand back up, I bang my head on the toilet seat cover dispenser that hangs on the stall door. I start giggling, and then laughing out loud at my klutziness.

Would this all have happened if I wasn't so tired? Probably.

But everything is funnier when you go through life half-asleep, half-awake.
You should try Myde-ing it sometime.

My Stupid Mouth

My doorman, Umar, is the nicest guy. He's a little older than me, from Nigeria, and always has the hugest smile on his face. He's the only one of our guards that I ever talk to.

"Hi, Malanie," he says, as I walk in the door on Saturday afternoon.
"Hey, Umar," I say, "what's up?"
"Nothing. Nice day," he says.
"Yeah," I say.

I approach his desk and notice that he's reading a thick, hard-covered, dark blue book that's missing its jacket.

"Hey Umar, what are you reading? The dictionary?" I ask, then laugh aloud at my own joke.

Omar looks perplexed. "Ackshilly, Malanie, yes. Yes I am. I read it so I can read the English newspaper," Umar says matter-of-factly, as he lifts up his dictionary to point out what's spread open beneath it: the newspaper.

Aggggh! Shit, I am such an asshole!, I shout inside my own head.

"Oh really?" I ask, attempting to save myself from yet another unfiltered remark, "I was just kidding, I didn't really think you'd be reading the dictionary!"

"Heh. Heh. Heh." A nervous giggle escapes my mouth. Umar joins in, and grins widely. I take that as a sign that he doesn't hate me. Phew!

"Have a good one," I say, as I walk away and head for the elevators.

I look at the ground, and shake my head back and forth. My stupid mouth almost gets me in trouble once again.

"Oprah's sampled every biscuit in Boston."

Sometimes I forget to breathe. No joke. Like I'll be concentrating so hard on something that I don't realize I'd been holding my breath the entire time.

Sometimes I talk aloud and don't realize it. I know, hard to believe for a sane girl like me. When I realize I have been talking out loud, I just pretend I'd been singing to myself, and people usually buy it. What? That's not weird.

Sometimes I wake up with the strangest thoughts in my head. Monday's thought? "Oprah's sampled every biscuit in Boston." Really, Mel??? Really?!?! Where did that even come from?

Sometimes I pretend that walking around NYC during rush hour is an obstacle course, and I find myself dashing and darting around people. Then I realize that I am a total shmuck and I need to calm the fuck down.

Sometimes, in real life, I pretend I am in one of my improv classes. This tends to piss people off. I was having an argument with my sister the other night, about nothing just because I was enjoying the banter. Then I realized that she was getting really pissed off (and spoiling my fun).

Sometimes I think about random things, try to remember to tell people about them, and then never do. So, I guess what I'm trying to say is... thanks for humoring me as I make my poor and subtle attempts to humor you.

Until next time, kids.

I Do Not Wish I Could Quit You

Are these things random? Or is the universe trying to tell me something?



Because I really do have a sweet spot in my heart for Italy - the language, the culture, the food... is this the universe's way of telling me that it's time to let go? But I can't!! I love Italy!

Or is this mere coincidence? I can't seem to figure it out!

WTF?!

Salmon, you disgust me.

Dear Salmon,

Hey there, pal. How are ya?

Not too good I hear. I'm doing well though, but I'll save that for another time. I wanted to bring up something very important, and I hope you're willing to hear me out. Remember how we used to be really good friends and hang out all the time? Well, this has caused me to question my loyalty. And quite frankly, I'm not sorry. My own well-being could be at risk, and it would be all your fault!

Please explain to me how some dude in Chicago ate one of you and got a 9-foot long tapeworm. That is just plain guh-ross. Can't you keep it together, Salmon? I'd hate to stop ordering the raw version of you every time I go for sushi. Seriously, my selection will become extremely limited. You're one of the few raw fish I enjoy, so please stay clean.

Also, they say that tapeworm resonates in your muscles, so maybe if you worked out a little more they wouldn't be able to burrow deep inside? They also say that tapeworm comes from dog shit, but I don't even want to go there with you right now.

Please get your act together, Salmon, or else I don't think we can be friends anymore.

I hope you understand.

Regards,
Mel

Hooked on'a Peelin'

I suck at peeling bananas. I just can't seem to get it right. I end up either splitting the banana peel on the side or squishing the top by ripping the stem in the wrong direction.

Does this mean something?

I went to ask.com in hopes of finding the answer to my peeling problems, and came across this article. As I began reading it, my eyes slowly started closing, and I drifted into a banana daydream. I quickly snapped out of it and realized, "Oh God! I'm reading an article about peeling bananas!"

I sped-read the rest of the article and started to shake my head back and forth. "How can someone write a whole article about bananas and peeling methods? And who the hell would read it?" Oh, wait, that would be me.

All in all, I gained very little from this experience. I have learned that some people peel the banana from the top which is actually the bottom (trippy), some people have issues with the "stringy" pieces left over from the peel (please go see a shrink), and some people peel bananas from the middle and scoop out the seeds (freaks), but there's no mention of people like me. People who just end up mushing the hell out of the banana, and getting sticky banana guts all over their hands. I guess there's no hope for me and my poor banana peeling techniques.

But the show must go on. I will still eat my daily breakfast banana. I might not peel it according to conventional (or unconventional) methods, but... I think I'm okay with that.