Posts Tagged 'health'

my anger has a color and it is grapefruit

Digerati and Pants have both told me they want a picture of me buried under 15 pounds of grapefruit. Why? Because despite my eating of MAJOR CITRUS daily, I have again caught a cold. I just had an epic cold last month. I was at death’s door for THREE WHOLE DAYS of sick time. That is long enough for my place of work to forget me. Maybe it’s not long enough at your job. Maybe I am just forgettable. All the more reason why I can NOT afford this cold.

What was it, fate? Was it the dirty means by which I acquired this grapefruit? What, the epic walking and olympic swimming and increasingly early bedtimes not enough for you, immune system? Well fuck you, white cells. I don’t see YOU doing such a great job! I can’t do this health thing all on my own! I’m sleeping at 10 and walking at 8 and hoovering sour citrus and choosing salads over fried breading and popping vitamins and drinking water and crossing my ever-fucking fingers in the hopes I won’t catch EVERY STRAY WIMP-ASS GERM that passes near my nose-holes. And there’s a lot of them, immune system. So I’m sorry. I am sorry I work with germy children. I’m sorry I get spat on and snotted on and sometimes I can actually SMELL the grubby hands that hand me things. And speaking of hands, my nephew stuck his hand in my mouth on Friday. What was I supposed to do about that, immune system? How do you see a crazy move like that coming before it’s too late? You don’t. That’s what immune systems are supposed to be for. Grabby babies with oral fixations.

So I will NOT draw a picture of grapefruit burying me. I will draw a picture of my rage, world. And it goes a little like this:

That’s my IRONTEAM shirt. It is soaked with sweat and tears. And grapefruit-tinged angry spittle.


like chiquita banana i am known for my fresh produce and lies

Cupcake and i have known for a while that if we were ever to find ourselves living in the same city again, the days would be fun-filled, the trees would sing, and we would share a Costco card because our combined consumption of fruit and veg is such that it cannot be sated by the average grocer.

a couple saturdays ago, cupcake and i had one of our Random Epic Walks for Fitness (we’re estimating 5 miles or the death-to-pomeranian equivalent), descended upon a local restaurant’s signature salad like lionesses taking down wildebeest and, wiping balsamic from our lips in the aftermath, found ourselves in the mood for large quantities of affordable fruit.

“are you opening a new card, or do you need to renew an old one?” Costco Girl asks.

we look at each other. Cupcake’s old card is tied to her ex-boyfriend and mine has a photo that looks like this.

bad photo magic makes me look simultaneously like smoking existentialist and scared immigrant

we both want new cards. together! for our new lives in the same city! cupcake has assured me this is possible. if we love each other enough, Costco will say we’re as good as family and give us cards.

we hand over our IDs. Costco Girl says, “To share an account, you must show the same address.”

Cupcake says, “I haven’t updated my license yet.” I’m starting to say the same (mine still reads my parents’ address from my college days) when Cupcake cuts me off. “Since I’m the transplant,” she says meaningfully, “we’ll just go with yours, E-Money.”

“ok…” now I really do look like my old Costco picture. SCARED IMMIGRANT FACE. I don’t lie well. i blush furiously as i copy my parents’ address onto my Costco application with Cupcake repeatedly calling me roomie and thanking me for putting up with her mess around the house. and a voice in my head – was it you, conscience? – is saying SUSAN SAID NOT TO LIE. IT WILL LEAD YOU OFF YOUR SPIRITUAL PATH. watching my karma go to shit, i’m feeling like, aw, my spiritual path. : (



now we take pictures. in our workout clothes, ungroomed after a 5-mile walk, with maybe balsamic lingering on our faces. cupcake jumps out from behind the backdrop to startle me as i’m taking mine.

now we commence the FRUITING FRENZY. no vegetable matter in the house is safe. we leave no tomato unturned, no kumquat unmolested. there is examining, discussing, sniffing, palpating, ogling and excessive exclaiming.





no cart, this is guerrilla shopping. we load up our arms with the peas, strawberries, mangoes and FIFTEEN POUNDS of juicy pink grapefruit. the mission is a success, with minimal casualties. a trickle of strawberry juice stains my workout top.

on the way out, we pick up our freshly cut Costco cards. i check the photo on the back.

bad photo magic turns "startled" into "smug to have a Costco card and bedhead at 2pm in Costco"

when you got a health thing

Pants came over tonight and almost the first thing she said was, “i want you to date that cute guy with all the piercings!”

i was sprawled in Ugly Chair, where i have the computer set up so i don’t have to use any muscles to view the internet. click, click with the wireless mouse and i turned the monitor so she could see the title of last night’s post.

“oh,” she said.

then we watched a little SNL on hulu. without using any muscles.

i really do need to start exercising again. the depressed-just-broke-up excuse is nearing its expiration date. maybe i’ll take kris straub‘s advice and try doing my internet while biking or mountain climbing some days instead of in Ugly Chair. he says this is good “when you got a health thing to manage.” i think this muffin top now qualifies as a health thing. even if jungle cat says Max is a fan.

but your advice is confusing, kris, because you also say not to do things that make my skin come off. and the few times i’ve encountered skin coming off usually involved some form of hazardous exercise that led up to it.

look at that! bedtime! i don’t need muscles for that either!

today was 100% good. mark it on my calendar.