January 13


Did you know that if you get hot pepper in your eye the best remedy is milk?

These are things we are finding out in our apartment tonight.

I was sitting on my bed eating some corn after the gym (two days in a row! I know!) when all of a sudden Roomie starts howling in pain from the kitchen. She’s as terrible as a cook as me, which makes me think she has amputated her hand or similar. Rushed to her aid and she is hysterically screaming and crying because I guess she got juice from a hot pepper in her eye and the whole side of her face was on fire. This kind of pepper was the super super hot variety, evidently, a few million Scoville units past anything I could handle. I danced around for a few minutes because I didn’t know how to help her so finally I went to Google remedies.

Five minutes later she was laying on the floor of our living room while I poured whole milk into her eye and The Cat judged us from a corner.

It’s no wonder we’re single to be quite honest.


Firing up the egg cooker again. Karlie Kloss probably eats egg whites all the time. A dozen a day. No nachos tonight. I already brushed my teeth to avoid temptation of eating anything else but it will probably not work if I had to guess.

Waiting to speak to a promising OkCupid boy, who has asked if he can call me (which my friends think is odd and not in line with standard protocol). We started texting last night and he seems very sweet — he described his teenage sister as “beautiful and complex” and asked lots of nice questions to me. From extensive internet stalking (oh, right, they can see when you look at their LinkedIn) I have deduced that he is considerably taller than me and has a nice smile. I’m coming around to the idea of a phone call because I will be able to tell if he has an effeminate voice or not without having to put on makeup and go sit in a dive bar for two hours.

It is 8:30. Obviously I have other fabulous plans, I am not simply sitting in my apartment tonight awaiting phone calls from mysterious strangers. Also, it doesn’t do to call after 9, I learned this in manners school. Tick tock my dear.


January 12


Bumming around in my jams waiting for the Ohio State-Oregon game to start. My next door neighbor growing up is now a fairly well known football player for Oregon, and he was able to get my family really good seats. They’re all in Dallas cheering for him and Ohio State (Grandpa was a buckeye). I am heading up the NYC branch of our strange dual-loyalty fan club.

This weekend was good but also not. I hung out with the Roomies of Sam. I got to be really good friends with them when I was dating Sam, but now it’s like even when I hang out with just them he’s there, like a ghost. He’s still at the very edges of my life. I cannot separate them from him. I wish I could. I drunk texted him saying I wished I could.  As a result of all of this I felt really miserable after a fun evening with friends.

I drunk texted all my exes that night, to be quite honest. The only one who responded was the one who owns his own helicopter so I suppose it could be worse.

I have now been to the gym twice since January 1st. Today I went to find that my Pilates teacher of last summer has been replaced by a pair of scarily athletic Russians who screamed at me for being weak. Only one month and two days until I have to look hot in a bikini and here I am eating my way through a box of Russell Stover my student got me for Christmas.

In other news, I am currently messaging two cute guys on OkCupid, but am nervous to meet up with them due to aforementioned “everyone on OkCupid has some dealbreaking flaw that is not immediately apparent from internet conversation” thing. The memory of Miley Cyrus Voice, Eyes-Too-Close-Together, and The Shorty is too fresh. We’ll see. I imagine I’ll crack and meet up with one or both this week. I’m bored. I’m thinking one might be slightly effeminate in person, but the other one has real potential.

These are the updates from Brooklyn.



Ate a filling, healthy meal of salmon and brown rice for dinner at approximately 6:00 pm (after the gym). Was feeling healthy and righteous and at peace with the world. Thought perhaps would only have fortifying mug of green tea between dinner and bedtime. Night eating is for the weak.

Was not satisfied, so just made and ate a colossal plate of nachos.

Karlie Kloss does not eat nachos. Taylor Swift does not eat nachos. Jennifer Lawrence pretends to eat nachos but does not actually eat nachos.


January 10


It is freezing in the Big Apple and I have no heat. This means that I have been laying in my bed wrapped like a burrito in all of my blankets unable to move. This has led to a lot of unintentional naps on this snowy Saturday. Basically, I…

11:00am: Woke up, thankfully not too hungover from my friend’s birthday party last night

12:00pm: Mustered the energy to go outside with Roomie to find some breakfast

12:15pm: Returned to my bed. So cold in my apartment I had no other options. My plan was to get up and go to the gym at 1, but somehow…

12:30pm-2:30pm: Unintentional nap.

I wasn’t even tired! I just texted my landlord again to complain about the fact that we have radiators which are not functioning. I don’t think the one in my room has ever worked, but maybe he can turn up the one in the bathroom and the one in Roomie’s room and the heat will somehow reach me. The Cat is shivering in her bed and I want to go shower but I’m worried my hair will freeze solid when I get out of the shower.

Naturally, I could not be expected to gather myself and go to the gym. I’ll go every day next week. Probably.

January 8


Encountered my arch nemesis before 8am this morning and it is throwing off my whole groove already. Very cranky on the way to work because NYC Public Schools has this horrible thing called quality review where all schools get evaluated and bad schools get shut down.

Which, to be fair, doesn’t sound bad. We probably should be reviewing our schools for quality, no? But you’re not a teacher, are you? For us, it means principals breathing down our necks and us never getting it exactly right. Anyway, today is just a dry run before the real thing, which is in March. We’re all pretending it is real, at any rate. I was up until the wee hours lesson planning and making anchor charts.

So I was on the subway on the way to work, already in a mood, when I come across my arch nemesis. Doesn’t it always happen this way? When I am at my most stressed with spilled coffee on my pants I see significant exes and frenemies and all manner of unpleasant people. I am Murphy’s Law personified.

This chick is the worst. She goes to graduate school with Sam and Roomie and I so I have to see her all the time. And we simply loathe each other.

I started up with Sam in the Summer of 2013. About a month after we became “something” (in the style of the early 20s) it emerges one day at grad school that they live in the same building. What a hilarious coincidence. Give it three more weeks and Sam stops texting me back and I suppose he and she become some sort of an item. Neither her nor Sam nor any of our mutual friends mention this to me. This resulted in a horrible showdown at a grad school party where we were all sort of drunk and she prisses up to me and is all, “Oh Sam and I are SEEING each other, we thought you knew.” I run out. Tears. Drama. Both of them are Persona Non Grata for the rest of the summer.

Whatever, their very strong relationship lasted about one week after Sam moved in the fall and they were no longer in the same building. It was a matter of convenience, we all always said. Sam and I started up again a few weeks later (Oh, I went so wrong there. So many warning signs). We dated until October of 2014,  when, ten months later, he decides he is “not ready for a relationship” and dumps me. What he thinks ten months was if not a relationship is beyond me.

Takes about a week for that news to get around that we are broken up before this girl is sniffing around again. And the absolute worst bit? She teaches in the same building as me (different school, same building, welcome to New York) so I have to see her all the time.

She is the Kryptonite to my Superman.

Actually, Roomie and I call her the Green Goblin (I, obviously, am Spider-man). She’s very short, very manipulative, and is fanatical about the environment. Fine, love the environment, but put on some deodorant and do not jump all over me the one time you see me with a plastic water bottle. Also, the GG is a superfeminist of the type who spells it “womyn” and posts articles from Jezebel on Facebook every thirty seconds. This makes me sound like I do not like the environment and feminists. Now, this may come as a surprise (especially to the GG) but I’m environmentally conscious and a feminist myself. Some people simply take it to a whole new level.

As part of my New Year’s purge of my Facebook, I unfriended her. And then I thought she would notice, so I blocked her for good measure. Which she definitely noticed. And saw her for the first time this year today when we rode the subway together. I had to pretend to be asleep so we wouldn’t have to pretend to like each other.

In the words of the wise Miranda Lambert, “everybody says you gotta know your enemies, even if they only weigh a hundred pounds and stand five foot three.”


Quality Review test run was alright. All male teachers wore ties and all teachers regardless of gender used bribes to ensure well behaved children.

In the first five minutes of my third period four very important people came into my room to evaluate me. They questioned my kids and went through my papers and typed on their iPads for a half hour. I think I did alright. Tomorrow (Friday) I have a Big Scary Meeting to find out for sure.

Anyway, somehow, someway, after all this trauma, I made it to the gym for the first time of the new year. It’s January 8. Not too bad, on balance, could be worse. Some people don’t go at all.

And I paid $20 dollars for a monthly locker rental so I’ll feel guilty if I don’t go. And I discovered a machine (that probably has a real name that is not The Buttcruncher, which I call it) that I am convinced will create the booty of my dreams in just one short month.


The Cat continues to scratch my door frame despite presence of new $40 dollar scratching post. Sweet.

January 6


Well. I spent hours and hours giving feedback rough drafts of papers for my students, handed them back on Monday, and today the little rascals merrily handed in a heaping stack of final drafts to be graded. It never ends.

All that can be said for today is that other than going to the bathroom, riding the subway to and from work, and eating, I worked from the moment I woke up until the moment I laid down. Grading. Lesson planning. Calling parents to try to gently break the news that their children are failing. It eats away at a person’s life.

I am trying to cut down on pre-bedtime snacking because I have a tendency to consume two-thirds of my calories after 8pm which is supposedly terrible for your metabolism but after all of this i’m simply too cranky not to have a snack before bed, Miami beach body be damned.

Must keep strength up during these troubling times. Will stick to healthy snack like an avocado wedge and two walnuts.

Or, rather, pop-tarts.

Gym visits thus far this year: 0


January 5


First day back at work after vacation. Teaching middle school is somehow even more exhausting when I am supposedly well rested from a two week vacation.

I spent most of my planning periods daydreaming about my upcoming trip to South Beach. I was supposed to go to Costa Rica with Sam in February, but then when we broke up of course I had to plan some stellar vacation that same week to show him that I don’t need him and all that jazz. Whatever. Going to the beach with my best girl friends will be way better. I can drink margaritas and hit on cute boys with reckless abandon.

The fact that he’s not going to Costa Rica anymore doesn’t hurt either. Have fun sitting in freezing New York in February, loser.

After work today my work husband asked me the age-old question “Nap or Gym?” (At least it is age-old when you have been work spouses as long as we have). Having turned over a new leaf of not napping (did I include that leaf in the original resolutions? Should have done) I told him I wasn’t going to do either. It’s my first work day of the new year. No gym. I’m pacing myself. Besides, I spent at least 20 minutes trying to corral Alberto into his homeroom, and that’s some pretty intense cardio.

Must go tomorrow. Will go tomorrow.

Must also find a way to get cat to stop scratching the shit out of my door frame when I’m at work.



One unfortunate thing about me is I cannot cook a thing without having some sort of kitchen disaster. Isn’t there a saying about people who can’t even boil an egg? It sounds vaguely familiar, but maybe that is just because a few weeks ago I tried to hard boil a dozen eggs. I put them on the stove, promptly forgot, and was reminded about them an hour later when all the water had boiled away and the eggs were exploding all over the inside of the pan.

As a result of this, my hilarious Roomie got me some sort of idiot-proof egg cooker for Christmas.

The blue one!

The blue one!

I am about to attempt to boil eggs. She is safely away getting her nails done but I am carefully reading the entire instruction booklet nonetheless. I have to puncture each of the eggs with a sharp spike and place them in the cooker with the required amount of water. There are all sorts of accessories.




Eggs are bubbling merrily away inside my little pot of “impossible to fuck up” and The Cat is gazing reproachfully at the steam coming out of the hole. I should mention that the egg cooker is on the floor of my bedroom because we only have two outlets in our tiny NYC kitchen and they were both in use.

That’s a somewhat odd smell. Is it supposed to smell like this?

I don’t even have to turn this thing off. It has a SENSOR.



New lows: I have just realized I am using an egg cooker to get out of grading my students’ unit exams.



Eggs appear to be fine. No explosions, at any rate, but one very startled cat. I’ll chalk it up as a win.

January 4


Well, last night was interesting. I had a boy over. The first since Sam in October. Once you’ve caught your breath, we can move on.

After Roomie got back, we went out to meet one of our friends, who was hanging out with her big brother for the night. He was nice and hilariously funny and spoke Swedish (I should say I’m a total sucker for the whole blonde haired blue eyed Nordic thing). We started out by drinking Aquavit, which is some strange Scandinavian grain liquor, and it spiraled downhill from there for everyone but this guy and I, who stayed mostly sober. I didn’t want to flirt with him because I know Roomie has had a baby crush on him for a while, nothing serious, but she’s my best friend and I didn’t want to step on any toes. She told me to go for it, though. She says she’s known him too long.

Anyway, we all went out and he was flirting and we were dancing and one thing led to another and we went back to my apartment. Now, I was NOT planning on doing any such thing tonight. By this I mean my room was disgusting and my legs were not that recently shaved and our apartment smelled like cat.

I have not had a boy over since The Cat came to live with us. She immediately sensed that her side of the bed was threatened and went into panic mode and started pacing outside my bedroom door and yowling. She finally broke in, don’t ask me how, and began to pace around the bed. Seriously, top notch yelling. Then, mid-event, she jumps up on the bed and starts staring at this poor guy, who was like “Okay, I love cats, I just can’t deal with The Cat right now.” Over the next hour it becomes apparent that The Cat has two modes: Sleeping RIGHT next to this guy with her tail draped over his stomach and her butt all up in his business or pacing around the apartment yowling inconsolably. Over the next several hours while we try to get some sleep I am continually getting up to try to chase the cat away.

Thankfully, this guy was really nice about the whole thing.

It was a good night, though. He said I was pretty and he was an expert snuggler. Then this morning we slept in and he brought me breakfast in bed and it was just… nice. I knew it wouldn’t mean anything in the long term because he’s just visiting his sister from the other side of the country but it made me feel better. I still got SOME game, even if I am a crazy cat lady with a psychotic feline. I have to get The Cat under control.

And you know what’s weird? In one night he did a million little things that Sam never managed to do in seven months, and that wake up call was a nice added bonus.

Spent 5 hours grading those essays today. Ugh. Back to work tomorrow.