Heading to Tokyo and Taipei!

Woo-hoo!

Been working my butt off

since I got back from Istanbul.

(Working so much I can't tell if I have a sinus headache or migraine--

and I've never had either of those before!

Getting old is TERRIBLE.)

No point in making money if you can't enjoy it.

Or to sum it up in 2012 terms:

YOLO!

Third time to Tokyo.

First time to Taiwan.

Second time in Asia this year.

It's me, Jon, Wee, and Chris.

It should be fun times!

(My teeth hurt too.

I think I'm clenching.)

March Snow

Ugh. Snow.

I had to walk in it to work

with my messed up toe.

I waited ten minutes for a bus.

Buses are so stupid.

It never came, of course.

I left work late that day.

The snow all melted.

Gross: This One's About Feet and Blood

I feel like a voodoo doll! 

Today I got three of my moles removed/biopsied for skin cancer. 

I'm in such uncomfortable pain. 

Right after I left the doctor to get to work, 

my band aid fell off and there was blood everywhere. 

It was so gross. 

SO, SO GROSS! 

Because it was on the underside of my Dom toe.

(What is a Dom toe?

As you might be able to tell,

my middle toe and ring toe are about the same height.

My siblings, Wee and Dom, are twins.

My toes basically predicted I'd have twin siblings, of course.

I call the ring one Dom because he's the later chunky baby twin,

and the middle one Wee because she was the scrawny little baby twin.

I wrote this fact on a getting-to-know-you card in a college English course.)

Anyhoo. Yuck. 

I got to work and I found the band aide floating over by my big toe

and threw that out.

I sopped up as much blood in my shoe as I could.

I wrapped Dom toe in a paper towel.

I washed my hands, and I got to work.

(There are sales materials to be done, people!

And actual books due in stores in May.

What's a little blood?)

Luckily the anesthesia worked for a short while.

I took some Advil too.

It looks like what you imagine it would, but worse.

And this is the bleeding toe from Istanbul.

Anyway, back to the moles story.

These lacerations are going to be ugly scars too. I just know it. 

The doctor was really nice, but she didn't know how to make nice circles. 

AND I have my period--one of the heavy days. 

I feel like I am being drained of blood. 

It was the worst decision ever. 

Though I'm betting skin cancer is probably more uncomfortable. 

The other one is on my back and the last is on my belly. 

It is hard eating (because my belly expands when I eat)

and laughing (again the belly). 

Grr.

The one on my back just sometimes feels sore/itchy. 

So I put some more Vaseline on it to shut it up.

What a bitch.

Glittery Snow

It snowed on Friday.

Superglittery snow.

Like, I guess you get a sense of the glitteriness,

but there were lots more surrounding us.

I finished up a freelance project

and the longest four day work week, ever.

Jon met me at work to go to Bill's Burger.

We sat in a booth and got burgers,

mini corn dogs, and disco fries.

We ate it as if we hadn't eaten anything in a month.

It was Irish coffee day or something,

so their alcoholic shake had Baileys and Jameson.

We passed and got hot chocolates for the long trek home.

(It's been so cold out that getting a cab home has been

scarcer than getting one during a downpour.)

My sister told me about one of her patients

that had a rectal temperature of 70 degrees.

That's cold.

Your butt should be at least around 99 degrees.

NYC didn't seem to bother plowing.

The hot chocolate helped a bit, 

but the snow was hitting our faces.

Jon found it too sweet.

What was pretty about the snow

was that it like shined like little diamonds.

They weren't the fat ones.

They were small and shiny.

This is a photo we took together.

I held the camera and a hot chocolate in each hand.

Jon pressed the buttons to take the photo 

and his held his hot chocolate with each of his hands.

Teamwork!

Another Good Reason to Not Smoke

Sign at The Standard LA

I'd totally be the person 

who dies in a car accident due to a drunk driver

or die of lung cancer 

without ever having smoke a cigarette in my life.

(Not even tried it once--ever.

Cigars are another story, 

but I can count a few puffs of each of those

on one hand.)

I'd be that person.

I'm not sure if this sign on one of the floors

at The Standard LA

purposefully subtly hints 

that because things are connected,

no smoking is permitted,

but that how I read it.

An interconnected anecdote:

Thank goodness we have a great building manager

who reinforces our no smoking policy in our rental.

A new person moved into the studio next door,

and he was smoking intense, crazy Asian cigarettes

(think of what a cigar smells like times ten)

and the smell was seeping in through

THE WALL.

I had woken up at 2 a.m. smelling the smoke.

I thought I was dying because a fire was really nearby.

It was a terrible night,

and I had a sore throat for the next few days.

But the great building manager handled the new neighbor

the very next morning.

Wham, bam, thank you, sir.

Maybe they should post this sign in our lobby too

or, like, everywhere.

Peeps gotta breathe!

How Did That Get in My Mouth?

The other day I was talking to Lakshmi,

and I started coughing on something.

Though I had a summer cold

for half of the summer

(seems like it was allergies),

this cough was different.

This cough

was due to something odd in my throat.

So I pulled that oddity out of my mouth,

and what was it?

Well, I'm not sure.

Hay?

A piece of grass?

We were in Soho/Noho.

Lakshmi's phone provides a black background

for the piece of . . .

something

that I pulled out of my mouth.

Weird.

Gross.