Hookah Hokies.

While walking to the subway in the East Village this afternoon, I overheard a conversation amongst three of the most generic lookin women I have ever seen in my life. They were standing in front of a hookah bar. This is what transpired:

Fat Chick: "Have you ever tried hookah?"
Horse Face: "No, you?"
Four Eyes: "I haven't. I've seen enough people who have tried it and that's enough for me."

I was a little confused. Hookah is herbal fruit. It's essentially like putting your mom potpourri in a bong and smoking it. Four Eyes made it sound like it was some sort of maniacal, orgy-inducing drug. I mean, c'mon - the caterpillar in Alice in Wonderland was a hookah smoker - if you can't mold yourself around a beloved Disney character, what can you aspire to (Fun Fact: My personality is an exact imitation of Baloo from The Jungle Book and Tinker Bell from Peter Pan)?

To read more about hookah, go here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hookah

It'll make you feel far more mentally superior to these three women if you read the Wikipedia entry.

When you least expect it, every clock is ticking down FOR YOU.

Last week, I was the last person in the office as I was tying up some loose ends in preparation for the long weekend we had in recognition of ANZAC Day (to my American friends, ANZAC Day is like our Memorial Day, but generally focuses on one specific Australian/New Zealand war-related tragedy). I had decided to walk home from the office that night to get some exercise, so after changing into my work out attire, I went back to my desk to pack up my purse, tidy up my desk and put on my walking shoes. While bending over to tie my shoelaces, I heard a noise. An ominous noise. As if I was in a film and the scene had suddenly gone into slow motion, I turned my head in the direction of the sound. On the wall, there are maybe seven or eight clocks, each noting a different time zone in the world by representing a city in which my company has an office.

The noise I was hearing was the synchronized ticking of all those clocks. It was as if they were trying to say “Time up Mary Ann…tick-tock…tick-tock….”, and obviously the clocks sound like Alfred Hitchcock or that scary, cross-dressing “Put the lotion in the basket!” character from The Silence of the Lambs. Needless to say I hauled ass outta there and all the way home. And when I say “hauled ass,” I mean walk really fast, because let’s face it, everyone knows my rule of only running whilst being chased AND only if I’m being chased by someone wielding a weapon that could cause some damage. So unless one of those clocks pulled some sort of Walt Disney Fantasia* on me and came to life and sharpened one of their clock hands into some knife-like weapon, I think I was probably pretty safe. Or was I?! No…I probably wasn’t.

*Come to think of it, I think I could have inserted any Disney movie where Fantasia is mentioned, as I’m pretty sure that every Disney film features a clock character. I’m going to do some research on this, but I think we can already exclude The Jungle Book and Pocahontas.