An Insufferable Truth

Really alarming news on the rat front, comrades. Apparently they have extended their axis of evil to encompass global warming as an ally.

This from the New York Times, teller of truths:

... a recent stretch of warm winters has reduced the proportion of the rodent population that would normally be eliminated each year by the cold.

The time to fight may be close at hand. I hope you are prepared.

The rat that was circling André Thomas’s feet was big and brazen, measuring more than a foot from the tip of its tail to a pointed snout that arched upward to the aroma of Mr. Thomas’s ham and cheese sandwich.

Good God! Read more of the horror:

http://www.nytimes.com/2007/11/10/nyregion/10rats.html

Until next time, stay far, far away from City Hall!

Gym Rat

I finally gave in to peer pressure and joined the gym. Apparently all the cool kids are doing it. My gym membership doesn't really qualify, though, since it is for the work gym. Most New Yorkers join the gym to "get in shape." This is code for "meet people." But since I'm just sweating it out with coworkers, there's not a lot of interaction. It's more of a don't-make-eye-contact-while-sweating environment. But that's OK by me. I actually did join the gym to get in shape, overcoming terrible intimidation to do so. Remember gym class? I didn't go so well for me.

Anywho, I recently turned 30. It was right around that time that I noticed my clothes were shrinking. Sure, it could be an evil plot by the rats, who, theoretically, are running my threads through a dryer while I'm at work. Or perhaps they have those Cinderella mice taking in my clothes whilst singing in freakishly high-pitched voices. But as my good friend William of Ockham says, the simplest answer is usually the best one. I had to face facts: The rats were injecting me with fat while I slept.

There's only one way to fight this, which, sadly, involves hard work. Thus, the gym. I'm total rubbish at working out at home. I'll do it for a little while, get into a routine, but the first whiff of something else comes along and that's the end of tae bo with Billy Blanks. I figured joining the gym would provide me incentive, since it is at my place of employ and I do have to pay for it. So far it's working out all right. So far.

However (and isn't there always a however?), when I was orientated to the gym, the trainer showed me how to use some of the weight machines. I have been using them faithfully twice a week for about a month now, in addition to the cardio machines. Yet I am just putting on more mass—2.5 lbs. of mass to exact—which is not what I was looking for. So I'm strictly an elliptical machine/bike girl now. And it's back to yoga at home. Until I get distracted by ice cream sandwiches, or blogging, or youtube, or the book I'm reading, or the phone ...

Until next time, drop and give me 20.

Rats of NYM

I hate rats. I loathe them on a level that defies logic. I’m pretty sure it’s the hairless, thick tail that sends shivers down my spine, but it could be any of their other fine features, such as pestilence.

Anyway, as a hater of rats, New York is an unusual choice for a residence, since rats are only barely outnumbered by people. Some day the rodents will rise up and take over the city in a virtually bloodless coup (because we are cowards and they are vicious – have you seen their sharp teeth?).

Now some people freak out when they are very close to certain animals – snakes, bugs, etc. I freak out at the very thought of rats. So you can imagine my joy at seeing them scurry back and forth across the subway tracks. Yes, I know I am fairly removed from them. And yes, I know they aren’t very interested in people (until the coup, when we will all become their slaves). But rats just give me the willies.

The only thing that lifts my spirits about the subway rats is the periodic sign, courtesy the City of New York, that “Rodenticide has been used in this area.” Then it is comfortingly dated. Usually for six years ago.

I think this may be a false sense of comfort, though. I suspect the rats are actually planting these signs themselves. I think it is their way of lulling us into torpidity leading up to the coup. The giveaway is that the rat depicted on the signs has these long, freakishly skinny arms. This is not a fuzzy little creature that scampers across the floor, dashing from one hole to the next. This is a creature that has evolved opposable thumbs while living, breeding and sacrificing baby orphans in the city sewers. And this creature is preparing to use those thumbs. For evil.

Now you are probably thinking, “Hey, Splinter lived in the sewers and he was a freakishly large, opposable-thumbed rat and he worked for the forces of good!” This is a lie being sold to you by the rats. They already have taken over the entertainment industry. Don’t believe me? Then explain “Fear Factor.”

That’s what I thought. Now you are on my side.

Until Friday, train for combat …