Thursday, September 27

The Day I Didn't Eat.

(Also commonly known as the high holiday of Yom Kippur.)

9:25am: It's been insanely hard for me to wake up these past few days, but holding to my hopeful 6:30 wakeup call on this morning? Nearly impossible. Knowing your afternoon is going to full of yiddush complaints and playing hard to get with the Healthy Choice fro-yo in the freezer doesn't give me much to look forward to.

10:30am: Not so hungry yet! This won't be too hard.

11:10am: Hanging up shirts! Hanging up laundry. Hanging up everyone's laundry! Hey, look at all these things I can do with my hands that aren't eating! What's eating? I don't even remember! I can't remember!

11:30am: Throw all my shit in a Jansport and rock the one-shoulder with a blazer and oxfords, like I'm a stumpy Alexa Chung going to a-University, pronounced just like that. Cannot tell if this is a moment of sartorial brilliance or just the brain drain talking.

11:42am: Walk over to my favorite cafe to absolve myself of cabin fever, and contemplate with a friend if God will strike me dead for ordering a latte. If I'm pulling the "sick and elderly" card for perma-dehydration, that applies to all non-alcoholic, non-Organic Avenue beverages as well, right?

11:48am: In a moment of brilliance, the server remembers my exact order from yesterday, a move that shocks me and solidifies my secret joint as the best spot in the West Village. Fuck the latte, bring on the iced Americano.

12:30pm: Things that are tough to do while you've already skipped 2.5 meals? Writing about Krisin Cavallari's baby's onesie. All of my wires are crossing, and now I'm rolling from caffeine.

1:45pm: No work is going to be done besides trolling through Pinterest for pictures of elementary cafeteria lunch nachos, so I rent Friends With Kids back at home, thinking Jennifer Westfeldt's face won't be distracting throughout the entire thing.

1:46pm: (Oops.)

2:25pm: WHY IS THERE SO MUCH FOOD IN THIS MOVIE?!?! Anger has officially set in.

2:50pm: I'm more interested in this veggie platter than I am in Jon Hamm.

2:51pm: Mmmm. Ham.

3:45pm: Eating chai mints like they're meal supplement pills, indulging in ooooh, water, and coming to the existential high of a realization that the entire movie I just watched is basically a 5-paragraph essay for why she and Jon Haam will never get married. I turn to The Daily Show just to see moving pictures so to be distracted. Some dude is talking about Egypt; I can only really hear every ninth word.

4:22pm: Loop-de-loopville. I watch The New Girl. Schmidt spinning fire > repenting for a year's worth of sins.

5:15pm: All the sudden, paranoia starts setting in. I get the terrible feeling that the Muppet I bought for my boyfriend's birthday is going to go all Chuckie on my ass and start attacking me, and am serious as cardiac arrest about it.

5:20pm: I get really, really scared, grab my shit and run out the door.

5:21pm: Fuck, I left the straightener on.

5:22pm: Call my boyfriend's office phone so he can hear me die, open the door, sprint into the bathroom and rush back out like the walls are closing in on me and a camera is panning to the method of my escape that will soon be covered in bloody claw marks before my body ultimately disappears.

5:23pm: Yeah, OK, I'm starting to feel the effects of this Jewish starvation diet.

5:45pm: My brain keeps jumping to worst case scenario conclusions, which isn't really convenient when trapped on the D train when it's packed to the middles. Convincing myself the man standing in front of me on the subway is going to pull his penis out, I am so distracted that I barely notice the other man, hovering on the rush hour train car, eating a styrofoam container of Chinese food above me as though I am his living tablecloth.

5:48pm: Climb three flights of stairs. Please, no one attack me.

6:25pm: Head from my chiropractic appointment filled with discussion of gangs and world leaders to Bouchon Bakery to pick up treats for a breaking the fast dinner at 7. Charlie Chocolate Factory'd the shit out of the place by ordering nearly one of everything before sadly noticing that the pastry box is sealed with an unbreakable sticker.

6:30pm: Did the Blue's Clues statue move from outside Columbus Circle to exactly where I'm standing? I think the Blue's Clues statue just moved to exactly where I'm standing.

6:45pm: Convinced everyone's either about to eat my soul or steal my purse, but nothing's going to get in my way when food's at the end of this very train ride which I've been looking forward to all day long.

6:49pm: Well, except for a train running express, I guess.

7:05pm: FOOD! GLORIOUS FOOD! Wait...why is it all covered in tinfoil....

7:10pm: The final guest won't be there for another half hour....

7:12pm: But there's cheese and bread.......


7:17pm: Eat lox with my fingersDON'T MIND IF I DO


7:24pm: SALVATION.

(Oh, and these as well.)


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