Sunday, June 04, 2006


* On Friday on the train ride back home, I noticed that two cute girls who got on the train at separate stops started talking and laughing. Like everyone else around me, I wanted to know why they were laughing, but couldn't hear anything because of the noise-blocking iPod headphones crammed into my ear canal. Then I *think* one of the girls shot me a quick glance and went back to laughing. Almost instinctively, I looked down to make sure my fly wasn't open.

It wasn't.

Whew. Then again, at least I was wearing my favorite boxer, which has an eye-pleasing light blue background and is populated with cows. Will stop now before the TMI Police (aka Sachin) comes a knocking.

* While working out at the sports club on Saturday, I saw Gandhi bench press 185 pounds. All right all right, of course I didn't actually see Gandhi, but a very tanned old man with a shiny bald head, wire rim glasses, and a moustache. Nothing below his head resembled Gandhi though, from the bulging biceps to the bulging pecs to the bulging ass that looked ready to pop out of his too short, too tight shorts. I almost laughed out loud when I saw him using the hip adduction machine, which I consider to be the Apple Martini of workout equipment. Then I stopped laughing when I saw how much weight he was using because he could have easily crushed my skull with his thighs, which totally reminded me of Famke Janssen's crazy Russian villainess character from "Golden Eye," who crushed men with her thighs during coitus.

* Earlier this afternoon, I was walking around in the West Village with Leslie after having brunch together. We encountered a woman my mother's age wearing a neon pink shirt two sizes too small. We couldn't avoid looking at her enormous breasts because she was wearing them high and proud. After she walked past us, I said to Leslie, "Did you see her scary nipples poking through her shirt?" She said yes. I continued, "I looked at them and they looked back."

Later, we were telling the story to her ex on the rooftop of her temporary apartment, when she said, "She looked like she had plastic surgery done and was happy with what she got." To which I replied, "Yeah, I didn't know monster nipples were an option."

* While walking around the West Village, we passed Magnolia Bakery, which of course had a line around the block made up of people who looked way too attractive and trendy to be waiting for admittance to a freaking bakery. I've only been there once and was not super impressed with my cupcake. Then again, even if it was the best fucking cupcake I had ever had, it was still a CUPCAKE! Some things are worth waiting for in life, cupcakes are not.