Small Hells

You got all excited, didn’t you. You were like, “Oh my God, I totally read this hysterical blog and then she never wrote again…” but here I am. Let me just quickly explain…I’ve been in a series of small hells.

I know you probably think that I’m the kind of person who has everything under control, who can look fear in the face and laugh, who can wear low-cut blouses and not feel self-conscious or the kind of girl who never trips, and has never tucked her dress into her underwear, but I have—it’s true. I’m the girl who sings aloud to the music on her iPod in public, who bursts out laughing in greeting card stores and makes a scene and trips on the corner of 86th and Broadway during rush hour.

But, we’re not here to talk about whether or not I’m a clod at times, but rather my adventures and how I see the world. Whenever I think about blogs, I think about the movie, “Pump Up the Volume” and particularly the end when everyone tries to get their own voice on the radio—their own soapbox to feel heard, special and important. I have a small collection of soapboxes but I am trying to appreciate this one the most because its completed unedited.

So—recent adventures include going to Yonkers (pronounced ‘Yaaankas’) with several Puerto Rican friends. I learned the following: 1) One cannot move their hips enough when doing the Salsa 2) If I were Spanish, I would have the perfect body, but since I’m a white girl, I’m fat and 3) Dressing 3 sizes smaller than you should isn’t always the most attractive option.

Then, on Sunday night, I made an emergency trip to the Animal Hospital because my cat Sydney had a blocked bladder and he would have died if this condition remained so. This wasn’t a terribly fun adventures, certainly not as interesting as Salsa dancing in a crumby bar at 2am with a drunken Latina holding my hips and urging me to “Let go, Mama!” Instead it was horrible and I spent three hours having a horrible allergy attacking (including wheezing) and watching a basset hound throw up bile, for my little kitty to be unclogged and subsequently admitted to the hospital. I learned the following lessons: 1) The receptionist at the Animal Medical Center is an unsympathetic bitch. 2) When you are allergic to cat fur and are in a place where it is covered in such fur, bring an inhaler. 3) Everyone talks to animals as though they are infants.

Now after that, what could be waiting for me to enjoy during the Jewish Holidays?! Oy.