Confessions Of A Splenda Stealer

Oh Good Lord. I had to do something so perverse I don’t even know if I can type the words. I was brought up not to do such a horrendous thing. Ugh. Ok. I will say it. I—HAD TO GRAB ONTO THE ESCALATOR RAILING THIS MORNING!!

EWWWWWW. Ewwie. It wasn’t my own doing! I had to! Coming down from the second floor in Port Authority, the escalator completely stopped incredibly short for no good reason. Everyone falls forward a step or two, at least. Me–already paying attention to keeping my semi-low cut sundress from falling down–have my hands busy fixing my dress to bra ratio– find myself leaning forward, so I had to–I had to grab hold of that black, rubbery railing. Oh, the horror.

Thank you again, Port Authority, for making my morning commute memorable.

OK. So, I don’t pretend to hide the fact that I do not like bugs. I like nature. I like being outside. But I was never the type of girl who picked up worms or grasshoppers to inspect them in my hand. They are works of nature–I get it–living things, but I have never had a good relationship with them. Perhaps it stems back to the time when I was in kindergarten and I stomped out an entire ant hill in my backyard and they started to crawl up my legs. Beady, fat, black ants taking their revenge on a six year old. But they had it coming–they killed the baby evergreen tree I planted for arbor day.

Ever since that day, the bugs have had it out for me. Mosquitoes and gnats just love to bite me and I’ve had a few (too) close encounters with spiders. YICK. Ughhh don’t get me started about spiders. And silver fish. And those rolly polly bugs ew ew ew. I am cringing as I type this.

Being grossed out by bugs also does not fare well when you live in an old building. I have been lucky so far (knock on wood) because there is usually someone around who will kill a bug for me. When I was little, all I had to scream was DADDY!!! In college, I remember my good friend/roommate made her boyfriend at the time come all the way from off campus to kill a little spider that was handing from the flourescent light in our dorm room. (My bf at the time told me to get over it. Note to self–always date a guy who can be your spider patrol.) We screamed as he caught it.

In my rowhouse when I lived off campus, if there was seriously anything really big or gross, we called the boys over from next door.

But now–I live with two other girls, and I have not yet discussed bug patrol with them. I have no idea if they are squeamish like me becasue up until now, thankfully, I have not had any issues with bugs, until last week.

Upon returning home from a gallery opening post-work, I head to the kitchen for some water before going to bed, and a little friend is waiting for me. I freeze. I spy a huge, blackish-brown, beetle-like thing slowly walking across the blue tile. I jump away. What to do?? The roommate was asleep, and the vaccum was behind my nemesis. I decide to slowly walk backwards out of the kitchen, turn off the light, and forget I ever saw it. I had to rock myself to sleep.

In the morning, I told my mom about it. I saw the grossest cricket last night! I screech into the phone. And then my mother said something so eye opening and revolting that I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

“Em, aww, you are such a suburb girl. I love that you assume that a bug like that is a cricket.”

What! It had to be…I mean, I guess it didn’t make a noise….and it’s not August….and….and….

Oh good god! Was it a COCKROACH!! I HAVE COCKROACHES IN MY APT!

I started to hyperventilate. My skin got clammy. I got goosebumps. No—no it couldn’t be! I once had a run in with a water bug, maybe it was a water bug??

“No, water bugs are brown,” my mom informs me. I had never felt so far away from home.

Since that eye-opener to my sheltered suburb upbringing, I have seen my friend that “thing” two more times. The second time, I reacted with the same, back-up-slowly-and-return-to-your-room approach. But last night when I saw him, after a few beers, feeling bold–I took action. I placed a white ceramic bowl on top of my nemesis. Whatever he is, he is now in captivity.

I knocked on my roommate’s door this morning and told her not to look under the bowl flipped upside down by the microwave. At first she kind of gave me a quizzical look, then I explained about the bug. I think she understood. Or she just thinks I’m an idiot. Only time will tell if the bowl is still there when I get home.

Last night I met up with a few girlfriends for a movie night in Bryant Park. Overall, it was just a great picnicking session, something I have wanted to do ever since I started to work in NYC. Sitting on the lawn, it almost felt surreal. Sure, you’re in a park, so in your immediate view you see much greenery, but then you look up above the trees and see these skyscrapers. Within that one park that takes up two blocks, sitting on the lawn, watching the movie and drinking wine with friends, you forget that the city is still very busily going on around you. I can’t wait to go again.

Last night’s film was 1963’s HUD with Paul Newman, but I hate to say that all of our collective ADDs kicked in and we couldn’t really pay attention to the film that was heavy on dialog and cowboy scenes, and my favorite, car rides that were so obviously shot with a screen behind the car.

But film aside, the highlight of the evening was Ria’s picnic backpack–filled with Belgian chocolates, chocolate biscuits, Margon cheese covered in rosemary, cheddar cheese and crackers, and almonds, all neatly tucked into a backpack that was even packed with a cutting board and cheese knife and dinnerware—a kit which she got for free!! She snagged the picnic kit after helping to produce/organize a tv segment focused on picnic gear. Boy did we luck out. It was enough to satiate four starving Splenda stealers. I love my friends in high places. And with two big bottles of wine that Red bought from Traders Joe’s that were only $6.99 a pop, it was a very economical meal.

Next week it’s The Man Who Came To Dinner, then Failsafe, then Arsenic and Old Lace, then The Apartment. I just love the city in the summer when there’s so many free events!

Side note: perfect time to people watch. There were people on awkward picnic dates, a few loud bums, a woman who ate her burrito bol from Chipotle without a fork, and some crazy, decked out picnic gear like neon orange pop up chairs. Good old fashioned fun. Just make sure to bring an umbrella, as we endured a few showers while waiting for the sun to go down. Quick thinking Ria and Ms. Ball O’Sunshine whipped out the umbrellas while I neatly wrapped the cheese up in napkins. Figures I would save the food before saving my own hair.

On a delightful note, I am happy to post yet another installment of my FREE COFFEE finds. Usually, on a morning where I awake on the couch/floor of a friend’s apartment in the city, the Au Bon Pain in Port Authority has increasingly become my go-to for really good coffee on a Saturday or Sunday morning. Last week, I even bought a muffin as a treat and I think, no, I know—I’m in love.

There is an Au Bon Pain about one block east, and one block south of my office, yet, I never go because by the time I trek all the way across 40th st. to get to my office, I refuse to walk any further for my coffee. Why don’t I just buy my coffee from the Au Bon Pain in Port Authority, you ask? Because it would be lukewarm by the time I got to my desk, silly. Timing is everything.

Moving along. I was alerted that there is a free coffee deal today from 2pm til closing at all Au Bon Pain locations. Sheer joy. I walk across 39th and see a really, realllllly long line and I begin to get pouty. I had made peace with the fact that there may be a wait of some sort, but this was nuts. And why do they all have luggage? And hats? And…oh wait–it was the line for the Hamptons Jitney. THANK GOD.

I get in–no line or anything. It seems that most of the customers already in there have no idea. I spy a girl my age sort of looking around, like me, for the iced coffee dispenser, or counter. It is clear we have never been in there before, and we become friends over our love of free coffee. It was a short term friendship, but a fruitful one—we figured out that the iced coffee was right by the fountain soda and you have to drink the iced coffee out of the same cups as you would fountain soda. Odd. That’s not how Cafe Metro does it, or DD. Well, they are French.

Need less to say, back in the office, I am elated. I am,

…sick??