Lost in Translation

Now that I spend a fair amount of my time at work navigating the charming world of foreign language-to-English translations (and assumptions), I think I understand how it is that "Ritter Sport" was named. I like to imagine it went like this:

CEO Klaus Ritter: Wir müssen den Namen unserer neuen Schokolade verursachen! (We need to come up with a name for our new chocolate company!)

VP Helga Ritter: Ja! Ich schlage einen Namen vor, der Vergnügen bedeutet! Unterhaltung! (Yes! I'm thinking something that says pleasure! Enjoyment!)

Klaus: Es ist zutreffend, unsere Schokolade ist sehr angenehm... (It's true, our chocolate IS very pleasurable...)

Helga: Boris! Benutzen Sie das Internet, um ein englisches Wort zu finden, das Genuss und Vergnügen bedeutet! (Boris! Use the internet to find an English word that means enjoyment and pleasure!)

Admin Boris: OK! (OK!)

...google google google...

Boris: Sport?

Klaus: Sport! Ich mag dieses Wort. Ich erinnere mich das an Wort von den Olympics. Die Olympics sind sehr erfreulich! Wir verwenden es. (Sport! I like this word. I remember it from the Olympics! The Olympics are exceedingly enjoyable! We will use it.)

And the rest is history. Once Ritter came out with the Sport line of chocolates, all the other European candy companies followed suit. Toblerone Athletic, Lindt Exercise, Nestle Obstacle Course... every one just as pleasurable and enjoyable as the last. Sigh. I love sports.

The last two months have contained some of the most stressful AND the most relaxing moments in my recent memory. On December 18, I was so overwhelmed I thought I might go blind... and then on December 20, I spent the entire day in velour, watching the Food Network and playing darts in the garage. I have convinced myself that this on-again/off-again relationship I have with anxiety is good for me. It's like interval training for my brain. And according to my 8th grade soccer coach, interval training is good for me (so stop crying).

There is so much news to share: I started a new job at a company I am really excited about, I got Netflix AND ZipCar for Christmas, a Costco just opened in Manhattan, I discovered Neatorama, I helped build some furniture for our house, I basically mastered Settlers of Catan, and I witnessed this happen four times in a row on the subway:


The funniest part was watching how upset and flustered he got every time he dropped his book! He would get all huffy and stuff the papers back into the book and start reading again... for about five seconds. And then he'd fall asleep, tip forward, and drop his book, scattering the papers all over the floor. What else could I do, but take pictures?

how to treat your man

I don't want to be that friend who calls after 6 months and then spends the first ten minutes of the conversation explaining and apologizing for the lapse in contact. Let's just cut to the chase and start catching up now, shall we?

First things first, Tales from the 1 Train.


Take a look... those are piles of kitty litter. I like to think this is the New York equivalent of toilet-papering. The funny thing is, no one was willing to just brush the stuff off so they could have a seat! Sure, it's sort of gross... but during a commute, people are usually willing to sit in a pile of hot garbage if it means getting off their feet.

This morning, we were riding downtown dressed in our Sunday best when we were approached by a very friendly, very VERY loud homeless woman who was quite taken with my Mister's suit-and-tie look. She told me (at the top of her lungs) that a man like that is "A GIFT FROM GOD!" and that I should "TAKE CARE OF THAT MAN!" And then she said, "IF I HAD A MAN LIKE THAT, OH MAH GOONESS, I'D BE LIKE..."

And that's when she did a horrifying booty dance for all the passengers on the train, complete with finger snaps, deep knee bends, and "UH-HUH, OOH! AW YEAH!"

And then she asked for a nickel.

jumbo topping

Pinkberry! Once known for its cripplingly addictive frozen yogurt, now known for its MUTANT monster blackberries. It only took a few minutes of squealing and pressing my face against the glass for the employee (or "enabler") to throw it in.

Other than its extraordinary size, it was by all accounts a normal blackberry. I half-expected it to encapsulate a normal-sized blackberry, or possibly a family of woodland creatures. Which reminds me, have you seen this?

the anti-plural conspiracy

Having houseguests for four days feels a bit like Christmas. Lots of excitement and build up and then it passes quickly and you're left with a bunch of leftover cookies and a mountain of wrapping paper. That's not to say my guests left behind a mess. No, no. They were very tidy.

But what they did actually leave behind is a bunch of magazines -- the kind you only buy when you're bored in the airport and you have a six hour flight ahead of you. The blasted things were left on my coffee table and I've been reading them ever since. And here's what I'm finding:

Fashion and beauty editors hate plurals. They loathe two of anything. Check out this quote I found:

"This year, the Emmys were all about the nude lip, paired with a smokey eye."

First of all, really? That's what the Emmys were all about this year?
Secondly, why just one nude lip and one smokey eye? Is it uncool to talk about the face as if it has matching parts?

Let me guess: the Emmys were also (but not ALL) about a slim pant and a strappy shoe.

Something about this just makes my skin crawl. It's the same way I feel when I hear someone say "mature," but they pronounce it "matoor." Or when dress pants are referred to as "slacks." Were the Emmys all about the black slack this year? Gross. I can't believe I would actually prefer "dress pant" in this scenario.

I'll tell you who else is in on this singular trend: Victoria's Secret. They're always asking me if I want to find out how to get a free panty during my birth month. A FREE PANTY. I cringe/giggle every time I hear that word. I'm either easily irritated or just really immatoor.

500 days of sunburn: a tan timeline

namasteam

My triumphant return to yoga included the following poses:

Sweaty warrior (I and II)
Hot-a-ranga
Shiva-sauna
Downward facing drip
Heatstroked child's pose

Apparently the ceiling fans are just for looks.