All I can say is...

Amen. This is what the word "curvy" was meant to describe. Note the large, natural chest and the difference between the width of the waist and hips. Note especially that the waist is smaller than the hips.

--waging a one woman war against chubby women having the right to call themselves curvy.

PS -- Chubby women: You probably could be (truly curvy)...eat well and exercise.

The End of the Road

Dear iPhone 3G,

I'm waiting on hold to activate my iPhone 4. The Indian guy on the other line doesn't understand my questions. And he put me on hold to determine whether or not this is an upgrade, or a new activation, even though I told him it was an upgrade.


I'm writing to tell you that watching you sit next to my new phone while you're being backed up for the last time calls to mind fond memories I've had with you. I was hesitant about you at first; I wasn't a mac, I was a PC. But you wowed me with your multi-functionality.


You are a phone, a minature game console, a portable music player and so much more. I read my first Sherlock Holmes books, Bram Stoker's Dracula and half of Moby Dick on you. When I needed time to clear my head I knew I could count on you to keep my hands busy with Diner Dash, or Pocket God, while I thought out life's most complicated problems.

You've taken in and let out so many phone numbers, I've lost count. Slut. But it didn't change the level of respect I have for you. You've seen text messages that would make Madonna blush, but you kept on keeping on.


iPhone four is a little bigger than you, a little taller, a little heavier. And I'm sure I'll grow to love it as I have you. But 4 doesn't have your charm. The scratches I've inflicted on you are my fault, my pride refused to buy a case, and the cracked screen you suffered one night at the rooftop bar in Korea Town was no way to treat you. I'm sorry. Best wishes, 3G. All good things must come to an end.

The Last Five Minutes of My Life...

Instead of making those Hamiltons, that stack up so quickly, I've spent the afternoon catching up on music videos that were made to be enjoyed by people who are at least a decade younger than me, and browsing iTunes. I was in the midst of deciding between Ciara or B.o.B when hark, the gchat bing caught my ear.

Dear Fran had written a short letter to Pink Berry detailing her disappointment with our Wednesday evening experience. She needed my help. What could I do? Although it pained me to tear myself away from such a productive and busy afternoon, I spent the last five minutes rewriting her letter.

To Whom it May Concern,

When I first saw an advertisement for your new watermelon flavor I was enthusiastic to try it. Pink Berry is one of my favorite frozen yogurt retailers, and I’ve been a loyal customer for over a year. As you can imagine, I was greatly disappointed to visit two separate locations only to be told the watermelon wasn’t available. I was further discouraged when I found out that your 5- to 7-p.m. happy hour included only one flavor of yogurt. Advertising the availability of a flavor at all locations and not being well stocked in it is an error to the detriment of your business. Leaving out key information in advertisements, such as the limited happy hour flavors, is blatant false advertising. --

Disappointed Customer, Fran Sizemore.

Are You There Go Daddy? It's Me, Marisa

I just bought a website. Well, actually I bought a website building package with some kind of SEO (search engine optimization). I bought the name for the site several months ago, and have been paying $8 per month for it ever since. Now, I will be paying another $8 to maintain it. It's uh, pretty expensive.

Concept: The original post has been deleted. Because I just remembered that in business school I was told not to share my ideas. So, when this site is up and running I will post a link.

Wah wah wah

The title of an article on MSN from Redbook: Is Being Childfree By Choice Selfish?
The subtitle of said article: When a married couple is childfree by choice, it seems there's a lot of explaining to do about why they're not having children. Even in big Hollywood movies like Sex and the City 2.

Reading this title reminded me of a professor I had in college for a short story class. She was an author and had published several books herself, I liked her. One day in class she made a comment that the media is obsessed with celebrity women and their babies. And I was like, "hmm...I think it's more like the media is obsessed with celebrity and they latch on to anything about their lives that they can. These women are having children as a natural course in their lives." It was pretty obvious that being of a certain age she had sorted of perverted the situation to fit her insecurities about not having children.

And it's like, to all you ladies out there who are worried about havin' babies or not havin' babies because of what other people will think. Get over it. If you want them, have them. If you don't, enjoy a blissfully and significantly less stressful life than those who do.

And as a word of caution:
If You Cant Feed Your Baby (Yeah, Yeah)
Then Don't Have A Baby (Yeah, Yeah)
And Don't Think Maybe (Yeah, Yeah)
If You Can't Feed Your Baby (Yeah, Yeah)
You'll Be Always Tryin'To Stop That Child From Cryin'
Hustlin', Stealin', Lyin'
Now Baby's Slowly Dyin'

And finally:
You're A Vegetable,
You're A Vegetable
Still They Hate You,
You're A Vegetable
You're Just A Buffet,
You're A Vegetable
They Eat Off Of You,
You're A Vegetable

I can't post a photo. I google imaged "baby" and was just totally grossed out/disappointed in what I saw, I had to stop looking and try to forget the images.

Shortcaked

This has to do with the culture of NYC and why people who don't live here, or just moved recently, are so very, very out of the loop of understanding. That isn't a judgement, it's just a fact.

When I first moved here people told me that "It takes living in New York for a year, to be prepared to live in New York." Cute, right? I'm not saying my case is typical, but it took me at least two, if not three years to acculturate. I may not be done yet.

Okay, the plain fact is New Yorker's aren't "rude". They aren't without morals, or ethics or values. They just don't have time to give a fuck about other people, except for the few that really make an impression. Many fresh off the boat here (in their first year), find it extremely difficult to wrap their head around this.

But, here's why what I just said makes perfect sense. You have a city of 8 million people. Among those 8 million you have the best and the brightest. The people on top of the food chain, the most beautiful, ivy league educated, ambitious people are here. You have an extremely high level of competition because all of us hanging out in the middle of the food chain see the top and desperately want to be there. And our perverse American ideals tell us it's possible, so you have an ego surge big time. By ego surge I mean you exhibit a certain amount of self-centered behavior.

Next, "the city that never sleeps", actually does. In fact, we probably sleep more than most people in most places. We just happen to stay up later. Because of this businesses don't open until later in the morning, office hours don't really get started until 10, even 11, and if we can manage it, we still leave at 5. Ever heard of "summer Fridays?" That's a business that allows their employees to have a half day, or whole day, off every Friday from Memorial Day to Labor Day. Why? So that people can get an early start on their weekends up state and in the Hamptons. These facts are a big reason why New Yorkers are so "busy" and have to have everything done yesterday. We sleep more, we work less than you and are pretty much always behind schedule. Ever get into work at 10 instead of 8 and for some reason the entire rest of the day is less productive? That's us, every day. Don't get me wrong, there are plenty of people in New York who work 12 hour days, just not as many as you'd think.

Also a note on transportation. Taxis and trains force commutes to be at least three times as long as driving in one's own car in a sparsley populated area with little traffic. When you're on the train, you're not working.


Finally, "the women come and go, talking of Michelangelo". Because we're social, a community of heavy drinkers and smokers (to mitigate the stress of being so busy), we meet and greet about a billion people everywhere we go. We are constantly forced to interact. And yes, you become jaded. Anyone would when there's a new face around the corner every second. There are endless ways to make friends, meet people and chat about the meaning of it all. If you were fishing in a stream with endless supplies of fish, you'd throw back any that were damaged, and you'd be a hell of a lot pickier with the ones who weren't. This is the reson for ego surge number two. I don't care how awesome people thought you were in your hometown, at some point here you are going to get thrown back. After it happens several times, you don't have the capacity to sympathize with others who are still feeling sorry for themselves, or someone else, about it.

So many people come here with a sunny disposition, so convinced that they're going to change New York to suit their idea of how things should be. They'll be the ones who take it by storm. And it's a culture shock in and of itself when they finally realize, they're not. You adapt, or you leave.


It is beyond frustrating to try and explain to a newbie how it is, only to have them resent you for it. But it's entertaining to see them step in the shit for not taking your advice because that was you once upon a time.

Those of us who stuck it out, those of us who've been thrown back, those of us who love it because of the constant stimulation in spite of its attitude, we just don't have to time to give a fuck about people, but the few who really make an impression. Fact.

As I put it to a good friend today regarding another friend, "I don't have time to deal with your strawberrry shortcake view of the way things should be. I just don't care."

Around Quittin' Time

me: Today I decided that God probably looks like a Panda Bear.

me: And then I thought, "what if I told Ben, who just kind of shrugged it off. And then when he died he found out that God really DOES look like a panda bear. And I was the only one who figured it out. That would be hilarious."

Benjamin: ARE U FUCKING STONED!? LOL

me: No

Benjamin: Hilarious.

That would be the worlds final insult: to find out marisa was right all along.

Where'd u go?

me: I'm here