I SPOTTED SPEKTOR

I did!

I was walking to MP's place this past Saturday morning, minding my own business, when I saw Regina-fun-and-quirky-but-with-oodles-of-sick-range-and-talent-Spektor standing outside The Spotted Pig.

I tried to walk away but I couldn't.

I tried not to jump up and down, but I did. Briefly.

I tried to walk over to her but I couldn't.

I mean, what would I say, without coming across as a crazy, stalker fan. We all know I'm very clearly not a crazy stalker fan, but I'll be the first to admit that I can easily be mistaken for one while under extreme levels of anxiety and stress (oh, and then I break out into hives, adding yet another--and very special--dimension to the crazy stalker persona).

And, so I stood cater-corner to her, watching her surreptitiously over my phone as I pretended to text somebody, "Fidelity" running circles inside my head. She seems nice, I told myself, as I watched her laugh and talking with another girl. She'll be so flattered and humbled if you walk right on over and tell her how much you absolutely love her music. But you don't want to do away with your cool as a cucumber New York City persona so you can throw in a "I walk by celebrities all day and couldn't give a rat's ass about them, because, you know, the city's crawling with them and who wants to bother them as they go about their daily lives but you, apparently, bring out the raving, out-of-town groupie in me. Ahem." And you can talk about going to her show at Town Hall and, wow, how fun was that! You saw Martha Plimpton in the audience, even! Well, you could probably leave the Martha Plimpton part out because who cares, really, right? What you could talk about is hearing Fidelity on Grey's Anatomy, which was such a pleasant surprise and emphasize that you're not a stalker or anything. You're cool. Cool as a cucumber. Walking to your boyfriend's place, like any other day and, bam, there's Regina Spektor! Surprise!

Luckily, Regina Spektor walked inside the restaurant with her friend as I was practicing what was sure to be a terrifying for her and humiliating for me hi-I'm-your-fan experience.

MAHJONG

Mahjong is an ancient Chinese game of skill, strategy, and calculation. It involves 144 tiles, three suits, dice, the east, west, north, and south winds, dragons, flowers, jokers, Chinese numbers and, like, ten different variations of the game.

Just thinking about it makes my head spin.

The challenge, of course, is learning how to play mahjong by the end of the month.

And, no, I haven't started yet.

Eek, is right, readers. Eek, is right.

LIVID

I AM SPEECHLESS.

MY NEW PASSION

Oh yeah. The Nerddd has a brand new passion and IT'S CONSUMING MY LIFE.

FIBERONE FATIGUE

As you know, kittens, my love of FiberOne cereal has been well-documented on this blog. I've longed for those fiber-filled twigs after the most delicious weekend brunches and craved them while exercising at the gym. I've even had dreams (yes, actual nighttime dreams!) of eating bowls of FiberOne during boardroom meetings and at ballgames. Is there anything more delicious than a chilled, slightly mushy bowl of FiberOne for breakfast? The answer, my friends, is no. Simply, no.

Yes, FiberOne has been a staple breakfast food for me for quite some time now. As a matter of fact, it's been such a long time that, while in the cereal aisle the other day, I was suddenly struck with intense FiberOne fatigue. Without warning everything I loved about the delicious and nutritious manna from the General Mills gods was wiped clean from my memory and all I could thtink about was how I'd be happiest if I never saw another box of FiberOne cereal again!

So, I stormed down the aisle, determined to find another cereal with which to replace my recently disgraced best-morning-friend. Surely, there was a product out there that offered the same calorie-fiber-sugar ratio FiberOne did, right?

Wrong, oh, I was ever so wrong.

Boxes sang out to me in all of their clean, straigh-lined glory; they touted bowls brimming with flakes and raisins and fruits. The promises made and the claims boasted on one side of the box were mostly empty when I looked to the other side of the box. Where was that lovely calorie-fiber-sugar ratio to which I had become so accustomed? Was there really only one cereal on the market that I could live with? Are the cereal fates so cruel?

Yes, readers, they are.

That being said, I refused to leave the supermarket without at least one brand of cereal I had never before sampled under my arm, goddamnit. Calorie-fiber-sugar ratio be damned, I wanted to try something new. So, I bought this:



and this:



These two cereals struck me as fun, delicious, and nutritious...but they didn't hold a candle to my FiberOne. Yes, readers, my journey in the cereal aisle that day, even with two strange boxes of cereal already in my arms, led me right back to what I thought was ol' faithful but, what did I find but IMPOSTERS! The FiberOne section was cluttered, littered with FiberOne Honey Clusters, FiberOne Raisin Bran Clusters, and something called FiberOne Caramel Delight. The one glaring omission, of course, was my dear FiberOne Original. Alas, these strange varieties of FiberOne don't have the nutrition, taste, or enjoyment that FiberOne Original offers me with each and every bowl and so I left with my underwhelming Kashi Honey Sunshine and Organic Flax Plus Multibran cereals, dejected and guilt-ridden about what felt like my complicity in what I suspect is the phasing out of the best cereal on the market.

Perhaps I never deserved FiberOne Original, though it tasted so...right.

Sigh.

OWNING

Here's what went down this week: I bought an apartment. The process, which started over a year ago and was rife with unprecedented demonstrations of flakiness by sellers, bank representatives, and various other parties, took a long time to complete. I almost felt myself age every time I spat into the telephone in elevated tones of rage (fret not, dears: my rage is reserved only for the most uncouth, vile, disagreeable personalities). Oh, I spat into the telephone in elevated tones of rage on an almost daily basis and the experience was unsettling (it left me close to tears and feeling like my insides were shaking) but also cathartic (you haven't lived until you've roared "YOU AREN'T LISTENING TO THE WORDS COMING OUT OF MY MOUTH" and soon thereafter hung up on someone. Sweet, splendid release!).

While I didn't vomit or pass out at today's closing as I had wholly expected I would, the experience did leave me with an intense, anxiety-fueled headache, which, as I expected, was a precursor to a small outbreak of (I never have headaches unless I'm about to break out into hives) hives on my legs.

Oh, hives, you never fail me, do you? You've become my constant companions in stress, my sidekicks, my compadres. I almost don't know what I'd do without you guys popping up whenever I get super stressed or excited. And now that I have the responsibility of a mortgage hovering over me, I expect to be seeing a lot more of you, you crazy guys, you. Super good times to come. Joy.