I'm not sure which magazine it is, specifically, but I know it's something like Marie Claire or Allure--I get those women's mags confused--that has a page devoted each issue to making its readers feel better about seemingly embarrassing things. The title of the page is something along the lines of "Hey, it's okay to...," and the rest of the page is filled with things like "...paint your fingernails pink and your toenails orange!" Or "...think subway rats are cute, except when they're in your apartment and you're freaking out on the couch because THEY ARE TERRIFYING AND NOT ADORABLE AT ALL." (Obvi that last one wouldn't be a real entry. That's more of a personal example. But you get the idea. It's your basic, we-all-feel-the-same-way-sometimes-over-dumb-stuff humanizing drivel.) Newayz: I was creating such a list in my head yesterday, in an attempt to reassure myself that I am not too-too weird (at least by New York standards), after I managed to do several dumb and/or embarrassing things in a relatively short amount of time. This is what my magazine entry would look like:
"Heeeeeeeey, Rach! Yeah, you're awkward and you lack even the most basic amount of common sense and you're always unintentionally making other people laugh when you talk, but: IT'S OKAY TO...
...go through four--count 'em, FOUR--ramekins of syrup when eating your pancake breakfast-snack at the restaurant whilst working a brunch shift. (Important information: a ramekin of ours holds approximately two tablespoons of liquid, viscous or otherwise. So yes. I did just admit to consuming eight or so tablespoons of syrup over the course of three pancakes. Furthermore, I drank the small amount of syrup remaining in the last ramekin like a shot, because I didn't want either the syrup or the blueberry-pancake morsels floating inside it to go to waste. Oh, yes. This is a true thing. Live, laugh, love, syrup.)
...take the stairs in one's apartment complex, wonder why they ALWAYS SMELL LIKE PEE, and then come to the conclusion--after much, much thought--that this is because people who live in the complex must just have to pee suddenly when taking the stairs and decide to relieve themselves on the spot. (When discussing this with Audrey, I later learned that the real reason the stairs smell like pee is probably because people are too lazy to take their dogs outside for a potty trip. This...makes much more sense. But, sadly enough, my own interpretation of events made perfect sense to me for a good, long while. Alas.)
...be so tired when removing one's boots at the end of the day that one lazily attempts to just kick one's leg spastically and fling the boot off but instead discovers that said boot will not come off quite as easily as predicted and will instead stay half-on and trip one rather drastically, resulting in a noisy faceplant in one's room. (This happened two nights ago. At least I managed to laugh at myself as I mourned my lack of agility or grace, facedown on my bedroom carpet.)
...not take a shower before work (I mean, you were too tired the night before, and you're just gonna get dirty again, ANYWAY) and instead wash off all reminders written on one's hand during the previous day in a pathetic attempt to trick other people into believing that one actually HAS taken a shower. (The lengths I go to in order to mask cleanliness--ridiculous, I tell you. It might actually be easier to be clean, come to think of it.)
...not brush your hair and tell yourself that it's okay because the hipster kids don't brush their hair, either, and somehow they manage to look cool. So, really, you're just getting cooler by the second. (You'll notice I abandoned speaking in the third person. No use pretending.)
...purposely squeeze your ass into an obviously too-small spot on the subway bench because you want to absorb the body heat of the people on your left and right when it's freezing. (IN THE MONTH OF APRIL, NO LESS.) (Seriously, Mother Nature. C'mon. Get. A. Grip.)"
So, there's that. That's what's going on.
