just a girl sharing her stuff

Metrocard FAIL


My Metrocard is broken. I was one of those chumps at the turnstile getting the message to “swipe again at this turnstile”. Everyone in back of me was getting mad and I was starting to sweat. I waited on line to speak to the subway booth person and she took it from me, rubbed it on her hands a few times, then said swipe it 5 times at the same turnstile. I was momentarily floored. Subway booth persons have magic in their fingers that make broken Metrocards work? I go, I do, but the spell was broken. Total FAIL, people getting annoyed behind me, sweating profusely etc etc. I go back to the booth and she said “oh it didn’t work baby?”. She hands me a postage paid envelope and says I have to mail it in to the MTA for a refund. But! She let me go through without paying the fare. Still, there is $50 on this card, why does the MTA get to use my money while I have to buy another card in the interim. I was thinking I should really make more of a fuss but I had a train to catch and seriously, I was so sweaty. MTA can suck it.

I’d love to hang out but I have to go sit in my house by myself…

I’d love to hang out but I have to go sit in my house by myself…

Social awkwardness never fails to make me laugh.

Esther C. Werdiger is the best!

Esther C. Werdiger is the best!

Check out her League of Ordinary Ladies.  This made my beverage come out of my nose.  Ikea!

I almost went there


This. I almost went there, but decided against it. It would have been me and those blueberry pop tarts in the car with only an empty box left over. God, I really love junk food. I understand what my kids go through when I tell them no blue juice, no pixie stix, no cocoa pebbles. I love it all.

Mr. Rogers Forever

Mr. Rogers Forever

I am not crying, it is my allergies.

Quest for Ballerina Body, Interrupted

Got up at 5:15am and thought, “wow I’m really not in the mood for Bar Method.” Despite this I got up, made the coffee, emptied the dishwasher, checked the weather, checked the email, thought about what I was going to wear to work. I wound up having to rush because all that thinking really slows me down. I hurried to Bar and saw everyone milling around the entrance. At first I thought “look we are having a summit in the parking lot!”. As I approached I saw their faces, frustrated tired faces. There was no key to the studio. The owner is a half hour away. Cue the sad trombones.

At least I have time to blow dry my hair. But! What about all those stupid cake pops I schnarfled this weekend? The quest for the ballerina body continues…

And now I can make the 7:02. Yay?

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