Does Debbie

Thursday, July 28, 2005

Work Circumcision

What's the law about religion? Separate church and state? Church and education? And in my case, synagogue and work? Well, unfortunately, that is one law I unfortunately don't upkeep.

No, I don't prostelytize Judaism throughout the halls of the ad agency (half the company is Jewish already,) but the topic does come up from time to time. And interestingly, I have had two too many conversations about conversion to Judaism.

I happen to have two co-workers who converted, both European. I found it fascinating learning about their newfound passion for the religion, what led them to convert, etc...

However, for those of you that don't already know this, you have to be circumcised to be Jewish. Which of course, can cause a wince if you imagine 30-something men having their cocks chopped. This is one area of the conversion topic that I avoid. Unsuccessfully.

You see, both of my co-workers shared these little details: 1 got circumcised, 1 didn't.


Now, whenever I see them in the hallways, do I think about our approaching work deliverables? Of course not. Do I want to discuss the results of our last campaign? Hell no! I want to run far, far away, so I don't have to imagine the circumcision and the lack of.


The other day, I had a discussion with a friend over the 's' word. Stress. Just reading the word creates a sense of uneasiness to most. Sitting in a smelly cab inching across 42nd street, a looming deadline, a biological clock running out of batteries. Need I say more?

However, in this conversation, we began to understand the drivers of stress. Interestingly, it is never the exact matter at hand that causes one to stress, but rather the chain reaction of unfortunate circumstances.

For example, you have a document due to the client at 6pm and at 5:30 you are not nearly complete. Stress sets in, of course. But what exactly could happen if you deliver the document 15 minutes late? Will you lose your job? Doubtful. But in your mind, if the document is late, the clients will be pissed, the agency will lose the account, you will lose your job, you will run out of money and have to live with your parents, because you now live with your parents you never will get married, if you never get married you won't have children, if you don't have children, you will die alone. Whew!

But in reality you will just deliver the document 15 minutes late. That's it.

I am currently in the airport in Memphis, Tennessee. It was bad enough that we arrived 2 1/2 hours before the flight (which is about two hours too early for me) but upon arriving, we found out that our flight was delayed an hour. Playing out the stress chain in my mind, I could very easily get upset that I am late, not going to be able to make plans tonight... you get the point.

But, you know what? Fuck it. I'm going to get some ice cream.

Wednesday, July 20, 2005

Peanut Butter

To know me is to know that I love peanut butter. With jelly. With bananas. On a spoon with a few chocolate chips on top. In fact, it would be an accurate claim to state that I plow through a jar a month. I was a Smooth Reduced Fat Skippy girl up until two months ago, when my healthy conscious led me to switch to Reduced Fat All Natural Smuckers Smooth. Not as good, by any means, but a little less sugar.

The other night, for a late night snack, I had one scoop of peanut butter. I forgot just how sticky and goopy it was. It stuck to the roof of my mouth and I almost gagged. I grabbed the water bottle in my fridge to help wash it down.

Flash forward to the next day. Matt was hanging out at my apartment. Given that it was pushing 100 degrees, I immediately offered him a nice cold beverage. Which consisted of the water bottle in my fridge. Matt was hot, he was thirsty. He chugged it down, and then asked me if I recently ate peanut butter.

I grossed him out for the day.

Saturday, July 09, 2005


I am a Virgo. That means I am supposed to be Type-A and very efficient. I am supposed to be a perfectionist. I am supposed to be bad in bed.

Fortunately, I do not completely adhere to my astrological stereotype. For one, I am NOT bad in bed (if you have read my blog before you know that I won't get into too much sex talk, which includes talent boasts for fear of mother reading blog. But I can put both legs behind my head.) For another, I rarely clean my apartment. Is it messy: hell no. Is it clean: um, moving on.

However, the disadvantage of not staying true to my birth sign, is that I am not as much of a perfectionist that I should be. I have one fatal flaw: I start things and don't finish them.

No, this does not mean I am a retard and can not read a book, or that I can't keep a relationship. But it does mean that I have a list of interesting, personality-defining hobbies that I have started, and sadly, quit. For example:

1) I took guitar lessons for 6 months. I practiced every day. I thought I could join a band. Now, the only action my guitar gets is when the bi-annual cleaning lady dusts it off.

2) I wrote a book. Actually, my friend Karen and I wrote a 50-page book proposal. We even were represented by a respected literary agent. She loved our book, and the publishing houses liked it- we just needed to work on it a little. Did that happen? What do you think?

3) I ran two marathons, in 2001 and 2002, and said that the next rung on the ladder would be a triathalon. Are you riding your bike this year, cuz I'm sure not...

You get the point. Writing this blog is my challenge to overcome this "shortfall." Man, is it hard. I get lazy. I think no one reads it (not my self-serving plea to post a note if you read my blogs.) I get bored. But damn it, I am going to write in this thing for two years if I have to. I am going to become a Virgo!

The One You Can Never Remember

Everyone has that person- you know, the one that you have met on multiple occasions, yet can never recognize when you see them in public. I'm not sure why this happens. Do our minds unconsciously push this "acquaintance" to the back of the memory bank? Did the person whisper hate words subliminally? Are they just too ugly looking to recall?

My Ms. I-Think-I-Know-You-But-Am-Not-Sure is my sister's old boss, Tessy. I have met Tessy on multiple occasions, both in and out of my sister's office. Yet each time I see her, I have to run through a list of distinctive features and qualities that would convince me it is her. This has not always gone so smoothly. There have been the occasion where I flat out don't recognize Tessy and then am handed a label via my sister, such as "bitch" for not saying hello.
Mind you, the "slight" weight gain didn't help. There are also the occasions where I cautiously say her name out loud, to see if she turns around. If she does, great. If not, I pretend I am calling someone in the distance. Works every time. And then there are the times where I know it's her, I say hello, and the only thing I want to talk is about is how proud I am of myself for recognizing her. (of course I don't do this.)

What makes my relationship (word used very loosely) with Tessy interesting is that our run-ins are rarely in the expected place: the block that we both live in. Rather, it is as if God has given me a life-size Where's Waldo book, and each place I go, I should look for Tessy. Of recent, it has been public transportation and the New York Piers. I'm pretty sure a sporting event was thrown in there as well.

The kicker of the whole thing: Tessy has never once initiated saying hello to me.

I think the lesson out of this: If you don't recognize someone, fuck it. It's a two-way street.

Tuesday, July 05, 2005

Just Out of Curiosity

Does anyone besides my sister and my friend Jeff read this thing? Post a comment if you do. Want to know who I am writing to. You know me, it's only fair...

The Bird

Just like most words in the English dictionary, "bird" can have several definitions:

1. A two-legged winged animal that has wings, a hard beak, and a body covered in feathers
2. Fowl eaten as food
3. Kind of person (e.g. "she's a nosy old bird")
4. Airplane or seacraft
5. A fuck-you (e.g. give somebody the bird)
6. Something worthless or unacceptable (e.g. "for the birds")
7. A murder victim ("kill two birds with one stone")

This weekend, I learned another definition of a bird. We were out at a bar in Fire Island, and this girl we met, Debra, was asking my friend Shira about M, a cute guy we were both friends with. Irrelevant side note: Shira and I met M in Club Med a few years ago.

Debra asked Shira if she had seen M's "bird" to which Shira replied, "No, I didn't know he had a bird. But he talks about his fish a lot."

Sweet, innocent Shira was referring to M's pets. Not so innocent Debra was referring to "his pet." Ha!