A little something in the morning

Wow. So who would have thought so many people would share my thoughts about narwhals? It’s the little things that remind us we’re all human.

So, I think the guy who runs the Dunkin Donuts by my train station has a thing for me. And by that I mean, he makes it almost painfully obvious, but I’m not quite sure how to handle it.

Just so you know this isn’t me being a Me Monster, here is my evidence:

A) Whenever I go in (once or twice a week), he always quite literally shoves another worker out of the way so he can either be my cashier or hand me my coffee.

B) He will ask me at least twice if I need anything else (after I’ve finished paying and am clearly waiting for my order off to the side).

C) He gave me a free Halloween tote bag “for trick or treating.” It would actually be much less disconcerting to know this is a special going on…can anyone back that up? (But still, how old does he think I am??)

D) He has had me repeat my order four times before, only to excuse it by saying, “Sorry, you’re so pretty I thought I would mess it up.”

So, I’m really not trying to be conceited here. I’m just trying to get some feedback to see if it would be in poor taste to try to finagle more free goods (lattes, egg and cheese wraps, pumpkin donuts, etc.) in exchange for getting blatantly stared at for four minutes. I mean, it’s not like I encourage this. I just show up and pay for things. Is that so wrong?

Apparently all it takes for me to sell out my gender is espresso and pastry free of charge.


Narwhals. Seriously.

Ok, I don’t know why I feel like this warrants a post, but I’m not feeling well so I’m sort of scraping the bottom of the barrel here.

I have this sort of random obsession with narwhals.

There, I said it. Judge if you must, but at least hear me out. It’s not that I have, like, a narwhal fetish (um, *SHUDDER*). I just think they are probably the most hilarious animal ever.

Seriously. If I even read the word “narwhal,” I quite literally perk up in expectation of impending hilarity. I wish I was kidding.*

Now, I think I’m pretty justified in thinking this. Let’s examine the evidence, shaaaaall we?

Exhibit A: A narwhal seems like something that should not even be real.

Um, a beluga with a unicorn horn? Yeah right!! Except, yeah. It is right. After an exhaustive amount of research (on Wikipedia), I discovered that some medieval Europeans really did believe that narwhals got their tusks from unicorns (idiots), and they were considered to have magic powers.

Exhibit B: They’re kind of adorable in that awkward-smart-kid kind of way.

Ok, stay with me on this one, but if a narwhal were a high school student today, it would totally be that guy that is secretly adorable but is so painfully bookish that the girls won’t notice until senior year when he accidentally gets a great haircut and starts reading GQ.

I mean, in the world of whales, he’s the underdog:

But look how cute!!!

Exhibit C: Elephant in the room; let’s talk about the tusk.

I don’t want to say that the physiology of the narwhal seems…impractical, but I will say this is part of why I don’t believe in evolution. Look at it!!! All I can imagine is that thing getting stuck on something every time the narwhal turns it’s head. Or THINK of all the awkward first dates when the narwhal goes in for a kiss only to jab his date in the eye. *Cringe*

According to my reliable sources (again, Wiki), the “most broadly accepted theory for the role of the tusk is as a secondary sexual characteristic, similar to the mane of a lion or the tail feathers of a peacock.” About one in 500 males has TWO tusks. So I can only imagine he gets a lot of (narwhal) tail. (GET it? ………I’m so, so sorry…)

Another fun tusk fact? “A female narwhal may also produce a tusk, but this occurs rarely, and there is a single recorded case of a female with dual tusks.”

Not only does the tusk determine social rank (TOLD you there were nerdy narwhals), it can also be used for fighting and breaking the ice. (Meaning the narwhal would actually be a hit at most college parties….GET it? …Ok, I need to stop.*)

*No I don’t!

Your outfit is inappropriate

This will probably come as no surprise to those of you who know me in person, but I’m a chronic overdresser.

Part of it, I’m sure, has to do with the fact that due to my schedule, if I’m going anywhere that requires dressing up at any part of the day, I have to be dressed like that all day. Also, I hate changing more than twice in the same day. Also, I just prefer dresses and skirts to pants any day of the week.

For example, the Friday before I went camping, I wore camping clothes to work since I was leaving straight from there. “Camping clothes” are worn jeans, tennis shoes, and a nubby sweater. It was hardly flattering, and I didn’t feel like myself all day.

That being said, I also find it kind of hilarious to be overdressed for the most casual of activities.

This weekend, my friends Sam and Craig and I had about two hours to kill in between two activities that required suits and dresses (respectively). I suggested bowling (an inspired idea, if I do say so myself).

Could we have gone home to change first? Well sure, if we wanted to spend the two hours driving to our three respective homes, changing, then driving back to our homes to change back.

Even so, Sam was a little dubious.

“We’re going to bowl? In our suits?”

That’s exactly what we’re going to do.




Yeah, Craig pushed up his suit jacket sleeves. I believe my exact response was, “Uh, yeah, that’s probably what’s holding you back…”

The highlight (besides, ahem, winning the first game and tying for first place with the average) was when the guy at the front desk looked us up and down and asked if we were coming from a “wedding or something.” (Cue me: “What if we were? You guys should bowl after my wedding.”)

And considering how well I bowled whilst overdressed, I may never bowl in pants again.

Nice to meet you

There are a few different kinds of commuters. The first (and my personal favorite) kind are just trying to get from Point A to Point B. They’re quiet, probably tired, and just want to listen to music or read or stare out the window in peace.

The second kind is a bit more gregarious. I usually imagine that these people are not regular commuters, but rather newbs or people just going to the city for the afternoon or the island for the evening. The train is new and exciting, and they want to make friends. They will literally interrupt your reading with a comment like, “That must be a good book!”

The ironic part of that statement is that what they mean is, “That must be a good book because you seem so focused on it.” They are interrupting your focus to comment on your focus. Maddening.

But the second type of commuter at least means well. They’re just trying to be friendly (slash, occasionally, hit on you). It’s the third type that is actually a problem.

The third type is the commuter that thinks a train car is the same as a busy street or, even worse, a bar or club. They speak much too loudly, having no qualms about fighting with either fellow passengers or someone on the phone. If, God help you, you have to take the train after one in the morning, you’ll get the ones who seem to think they’re at a casting call for the next Jersey Shore. Cat calls, douchey attempts at flirting, and all around slutting and toolery are rampant.

Unfortunately, these antics are not always confined to the evening trains (though they are much more likely…you can buy beer and cocktails on the platform then). For example, this morning a group of four people (two women, two men) got into a boisterous bickering match about, I kid you not, which of the women had shown more “attitude” during a conversation about whether or not the train car was full.

A) Who cares?
B) You’re both in seats now, so who cares?
C) It’s eight in the morning, so WHO CARES?

I may need to invest in a quality pair of headphones.

Friendly interaction

Well, once again camping has been a great success. There was hiking, cabins, campfires, and an abundance of food. The only sad part was having to leave a day early to get to work Sunday afternoon. But what can ya do, right?

I realized there are a lot of things I do in life solely for the human interaction. Camping is one. I mean, there are a lot of things about camping that I really enjoy (hiking, campfires, fresh air, etc.), but I would probably never be the one to suggest spending the weekend subject to the elements, lack of bathing, and unhealthy (though delicious) food.

Sports is another thing. As I’ve said before, I like watching games. Hockey and football I can even watch on TV and be entertained. But I am never going to be home alone and flip on the game. And a loss is never going to ruin my day. (Except for the one time my college basketball team got knocked out of Final Four contention in the last two seconds of play…the entire state was rooting for them. It was a dark time.)

The point is, I take part in sports only as far as it’s a social interaction. Again, that doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy them, I just might also have ulterior motives.