Poop and Spaghettios

My morning started out as it normally did. Rise at 6:30... or, 6:41 rather. I put on my business casuals(ew), slopped on some eyeshadow/perfume and made sure my hair didn't resemble the jew-fro that it in fact, is. I grabbed a bottle of water, a vanilla yogurt, a half-broken umbrella and my iPod, and hauled ass down to the park-n-ride. My cell read 7:21 AM. Early! In fact, this is not actually early. Every day my original out-the-door goal time is 7:15. However, 98% of the time I'm running out the door at 7:32, so 7:21... it's an early sort of late, i'll take it! Smooth sailin' as I hopped onto the NJ Trans and made my way up the turnpike without hitting any rainstorms/traffic/smelly indians falling asleep on me. It's going to be a good day!
I got to Port Authority at 8:35, giving me the perfect amount of time for a subway ride and a quick stop at Ess-A-Bagel for my vat-o-caffeine before making my way into work at 9. My average bed-to-desk arrival time is appox. 9:20am. Is it wrong that I still stop to buy coffee when I'm late? I would like some thoughts on this. Anyway, the commuting Gods were smiling down upon me as i hurried to catch the E train uptown. Sigh. The E train. How i despise the E train during rush hour. It's seriously like the running of the bulls. Hurl yourself through the crowd of suits and force your body to fit in the tiny spot between a European lady smelling of expired falafel and a Mexi dressed appropriately in a matching Corona hat, t-shirt and bag. With no pole in sight, stand with legs shoulder-width apart and balance like you're in Pilates class.
As I made it down the subway stairs, I noticed something odd. Everyone on the E train was getting off. This was more unsettling then the time I puked up my pastrami sandwich from Michael's Deli in the Menlo Park mall food court. What's going on? Terrorists? Murder? Nope. Apparently there had been some subway-mishap at 59th and Lex and the gigantic herd of E-trainers had to find a new route to make it to their destination. Time check: 8:54AM.
I went upstairs and began searching for a subway map. If i was smart, I would carry one with me. But unfortunately, i'm not. After walking around for a good portion of 8 minutes, I didn't come across a single map. What the fuck? Why can't I find a map in the subway station? I thought back to living in London- the enormous maps posted at every corner accompanied by clear, legible signs that even a Kindergartener could understand. 9:07AM.
I'm sweating profusely. I'm walking underground in a winter coat, carrying a Mastiff sized purse and not quite sure where i'm going.
I chanced it on the 7 train. The air was not working on the 7 train and I sweat some more. Luckily, I found myself somewhat closer to work, yet still looking at a solid 10-12 minute walk. Plus my coffee.
I hop off the train at Grand Central, and lucky me- the escalator isn't running. This is no run of the mill escalator, either. This is the Mt. Everest of escalators and by the time i reach the top i am excrutiatingly hungry, sweaty and nauseous.
I stopped for a moment to catch my breath, popped open my disabled umbrella and proceeded to Third ave. Walking around NYC when it's raining is an abortion. For some reason, i always unknowingly choose flip flops on these days, and end up with soaking, blackened feet. I trudge through the sea of umbrellas, trying to avoid being poked in the eye or even worse, letting my naked foot slip into a cigarette-infested puddle of street sludge. To make matters even worse this morning, my nostrils were in full force. As i walked, I kept smelling poop. Poop, and then Spaghettios. With meatballs, perhaps the most offensive of all the canned pasta goods. Smelling one, and then the other. Separately, and then simultaneously. Still, I stop for coffee. "Excuse me miss, your lip is bleeding."
Ummmm, what?! That's just great. Up until this point, I thought the bagel-man who whistled at me every morning only understood the words 'cream cheese', 'skim milk' and 'crack'.
I made it into work at 9:45, my latest arrival to date! Thank you, thank you! No applause neccessary. I plopped down at my desk unnoticed, and let out a sigh of relief. I reached into my purse to get my yogurt, only to discover it had exploded onto my notebook, iPod and tampons. Great, time to whip out the reserves. A bag o' stale Kashi and some watermelon Trident.
Can't wait to do it all again tomorrow!

Just a Spoonful of Splenda

I am both amazed and appalled by how many Splendas/Splenda-liquidy-substances I consume on a daily basis. Today for example, I have ingested Splenda 4 times and it's only 3:30 in the afternoon. This leaves room for at least 3 more, considering I haven't even touched any form of diet-carbonation or sugar-free ice cream yet. I'm slightly concerned about my abusive behavior, but I can't seem to break the addictive cycle. I figure, hey... it's healthier then funneling 8 Keystone Lights followed by 2 slices of size-of-my-face pizza, right? Oh wait, I do that too. Shit.
I wonder if one day there will be such a thing as Splenda-Rehab. I certainly wouldn't mind a 6-week work hiatus to cleanse my system of all the evil f-sugars! Sign me up!