I woke up this morning with the most debilitating neck pain I have ever experienced in my life. My neck was sore yesterday, but I ignored it, popped a few Advil, worked out at the gym, saw a movie with Becky, and then went over to visit with a friend. In all, a pretty productive day. The neck pain was only the most minor of inconveniences, really. Hardly noticed it.
However, when I woke up this morning, I was literally lying there whimpering in pain. I could barely lift my upper body from the bed. No matter what position in tried to recline into, I could not get comfortable. The pain honestly was taking my breath away.
I got up really early because it seemed to me that the worst thing would be to fall back asleep, further inhibit motion to the area, and become even stiffer than I obviously already was.
It was just after six when I set out of my apartment to take a walk somewhere...anywhere. I just had to get the blood flowing. I was bummed out when I opened the door and discovered a cruel, winter, whipping wind ready to tear right through me. I didn't care. I knew I had to get out.
I walked to Davis Square (half hour walk) and had a coffee at the neighborhood Lesbian cafe. Let me qualify that. The place was originally established as a Lesbian coffee house. That particular neighborhood is a big draw for the girls. When it opened, years ago, I didn't know what to expect. But I, along with everybody else, soon caught on to the fact that gay or straight, male or female, you'll be happier at this place than any other in the neighborhood. There are several reasons for this..
A. This coffee shop seems more relaxed than others in the area by default. The local Starbucks is just way too pretentious. The customers are the type to sit there all day long, pontificating about the obvious superiority of rice milk to soy milk. They all sit there with their Apple iBooks open on their tables, pretending to be graphic artists. Hmmm...note their presence in Starbucks as opposed to in an office. Gets ya askin' yourself a few questions, doesn't it? I once saw this total jackass come into Starbucks, (you know the kind, with the wool cap on in the middle of a 89 degree day in August), and when he couldn't find a free power outlet among the many made available to customers, he literally got on his hands and knees and crawled behind the coffee prep area and started groping around for an outlet. I was ordering my coffee and the barista got a little freaked out when she heard this disembodied voice (complete with pretentious cheerleader/college student/valley girl cadence) calling out, "Ah, do you think I could just sneak this cord into an outlet back here?" What the HELL is up with people asking if they can SNEAK stuff? They are obviously doing it in full view and completely overtly. Why do they feel they need to ask to sneak something? Did something permit them to labor under the false delusion that this is cute and likely to sway the person of whom the request is being made? I don't get it. Anyway, moving on. The other locally run coffee shop in the area, called the Someday Cafe is even more pretentious than the Starbucks. You have be under the impression that you're a poet (the more Spleen to which you can lay claim, the better), an artist (the more your artwork looks like the handywork of a two year-old the better), designer (the more days in a row that you wear your alleged fashion designs, the better), or film maker (the more grim and angst ridden the plot of your film, the better.) You have to have one of the following items on your person in order to even gain entrance into the someday: A well worn folk guitar, an art kit complete with overused color pastels, clothing covered with paint stains (from painting "PIECES" and not houses, thank you very much), or a CD from some band named The Canned Ham Bonanza or the Infected Toe Nail or something else nobody has ever heard of. At least in the Lesbian coffee shop, you can just walk in without worrying that you don't have the right costume or props and you certainly do not have to worry about being pulled into a discussion about the virtues of bean curd burgers. The people working in there may walk to the beat of their own respective drummers, but still, they don't look down their noses at people like me, whose edgiest wardrobe pieces come straight from the Gap.
B. The Lesbian coffeehouse is, relatively speaking, cleaner than the others. I'm a little freaked out by the fabric furnitures (sofas, easy chairs, etc.) found in some coffee houses. You know there are toddlers sitting there, spilling milk all over these things, mothers breastfeeding their 8 year-olds to help them wash down the FUCKING BAGEL THEY JUST TOASTED, SLICED AND BUTTERED THEMSELVES, and people with every critter and creepy crawler known to bacteriologists clamoring around in their wigs and clothes. All of these things are being regularly deposited into these sofas and couches and I just can't get comfortable sitting in them. I don't want to go in to get a coffee and walk out with Asian Bird Flu or some other equally dangerous colony of protozoa taking up residence in my clothes. I'm all set with that. Give me a wooden or plastic chair that I can at least fool myself into thinking is being rinsed down on a regular basis. Most of the seats in the Lesbian cafe are plastic, so I can relax while I enjoy my coffee and bagel and not worry about contracting malaria from the velvet setee located before the faux fireplace. True, the seats in Dunkin Donuts are also plastic, and the people in that particular Dunks keep the place pretty clean, but I'm gonna hold off on going in there to lounge around because there's always some elderly man with whooping cough, or a mother of 6 kids, each of whom has picked up a rare tropical disease at day care that day, waiting for the bus inside the doorway.
C. The Lesbian coffee house just has better coffee than the other places. And their bagels and other food selections are pretty good, too.
Anyway, back on to the other useless tidbits of news that I, for some reason, feel compelled to share.
I called Lauren and she told me she and Al and Caroline were going to Target. I joined them, and we had a slice of pizza at Pappa Gino's afterwards, much to Al's delight. Lauren and I have this strange thing where we sometimes feel badly for people of a certain age working in less than glamorous jobs. For example, the man working at the register at Pappa Gino's today, was a very nice gentleman nearing, I'd guess 55 years of age. I guess I don't go into fast food places that often, but when I do go in, and I see some high school or college kid working there, I think nothing of it. I mean, I did my share of crap jobs when I was younger and looking to make a few bucks, too. But when I see an older adult in one of those jobs, I wonder if they are happy there. I wonder if there are decent benefits or retirement plans. Do their bosses treat them like crap? I feel badly enough when I see some retail jerk boss telling a kid employee off, but it is really horrible to see one of these older workers "get in trouble" by the 19 year-old manager. I get to thinking about all kinds of things. Is this guy happy working here? Does he have any other options? Are they making his life here pleasant? I went up, at one point, because we ordered a child's meal for Al and he didn't give us her toy or her ice cream. I figured he might not have been sure that the meal was for a little kid because Al and I were seated at the back of the restaurant when Lauren ordered the food. I just asked him if I could grab the ice cream and toy and he was profusely apologetic for not having given it to us in the first place. I didn't even care. It wasn't a big deal. I was a little embarrassed that this guy, obviously quite a few years my senior, was all humbling himself to me. And then, of course, another big question that nags at me when I have these thoughts...is it really bitchy and mean for me to have these thoughts? Is it mean of me to think that because I would not want that kind of job for my life, that it is "sad" or "wrong" for somebody else to do it?
Profound thought of the day.
At Target I bought a "ponytail" plant and some pots to replant a few of my potbound plants. I was happy to get that taken care of.
I came home, popped a flexaril for my neck, and took a three hour nap. I was surprised. I never nap.
I got up just before 4 and thought about going to the gym for my 4:30 class, but my neck is still too stiff and I don't want to push it.
I felt gross though, because even after having a Papa Gino's salad and half of Al's pizza slice, I was kind of hungry again. Of course, we had eaten at around 11:00 AM. I didn't exercise all day, so I didn't want to overdo any junk food or anything.
I have a Hungarian friend introduced me to the art of salad making as she practices it. The key ingredient, I swear, is the scallion. I usually shy away from garlic big time because I hate the garlic breath, but I'm totally hooked on her scallion-laden salads. The salad consists mainly of green and orange bell pepper, tomato, cheese (I use crumbled goat cheese), and avocado. I also add some artichoke hearts and corn. It is delicious, and basically guilt-free. I did use a little olive oil and balsamic vinaigrette, but still...
Anyway, back to the title of this entry..after all these scallions, it is certainly lucky that I won't be kissing anybody tonight!
Peace out, Chumps!
3 comments:
Boy, do I feel like a chump! I thought the whole point of your tirade was that you were too sore to make out. Scallion breath? Well, that was a surprise.
Did you ever think of taking a nice Clorox wipe into the Lesbian coffee shop? You could just wipe down that plastic chair and feel completely comfortable and relaxed because you've killed 99.9% of germs. Ever wonder what the .01% remaining germs are? Must be some resistant little suckers. I wouldn't worry about what people think of you wiping down the chairs and tables either. What do you care what they think? So you're a little OCD. So what? At least you're not breastfeeding your eight-year-old!
After reading your post, I'm kind of glad I don't drink coffee. It sounds like a stressful activity, especially if you have to do it in a public place.
I think I'll risk taking a seat without the Clorox wipe. Going into a coffee shop with an anti-bacterial wipe is just way too Dr. Niles Crane for me!
Nice! I had the neck affliction for the past two days as well!! Why are our bodies rejecting us so cruelly at such young ages? Was it because of big flame, or the jelly shoes incident, or do you think, like Mary, God is just listening at the top of the stairs??
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