On: Boxes and being forced to check them

Yesterday I had a meeting with HR at one of my new jobs (dance teaching artist work is back in action), and I had to fill out a crapload of paperwork. I'm finding out that working in the NY school system is much more complicated than working in Chicago Public Schools, as I have to have a physical, a TB test, get fingerprinted twice, present my degree and my passport and fill out about 30 pages of forms.

Anyway, on one of the unnecessarily invasive census forms, I had to list the first and last names and birthdays of everyone in my current household as well as EVERY address I've had since I was 18. Do you know that since I was 18 I've lived in a total of 4 cities, 3 states and had 10 addresses? I've also had 7 phone numbers and one pager number. (Whatever. I'm a gangster.)

On this same census form, I was FORCED to tick a box stating my ethnicity. The problem with this? There were only 7 boxes, and my ethnicity was not listed. There were boxes for white, African-American, Asian, African, Pacific Islander, Hispanic and biracial/mixed race. Nowhere was there a place to indicate being Middle Eastern, Arab or Indian. There wasn't even a box for "other," which I loathe checking, but it's at least true. So you know what I had to do? I had to check Asian. I'm fucking Asian. (Sorry if you're Asian.) Because, you know, the Middle East is technically on the continent of Asia. Unless I'm actually Egyptian, which means I'm African, and I just fucked up the entire census demographic reading.

Anyway, frustrated with this ongoing situation, I turned to my friend Google, asking "Why is there no ethnicity box for Arab?" I didn't find a real answer, other than a few people speculating that it's impossible to account for all races, so I'm not the only one who feels slighted. I did find this cute blog post by another person in my same situation, so at least I didn't feel along in this cruel, cruel world with no box to cling to.

He's Got Game

Assuming I don't go through a long period of blog slackery, I'm starting a (maybe weekly?) new feature here.

Game: Man on Q train who waited from Dekalb to Port Authority to even talk to me. His first words were "We match," as he pointed to his black and pink shirt, which matched my black and pink skirt. He then asked me if I was a dancer. (I have no idea how he knew.) And he very shyly and awkwardly proceeded to come sit next to me, staying at a comfortable distance, and have a very polite conversation consisting of small talk until we got to 57th Street. And when we got off the train and were about to go our separate ways, instead of some sleazy come-on, he asked if I wanted to stay in touch, and he was totally respectful when I told him I'm seeing someone.

No Game: While I was walking down Myrtle in Ft. Greene, toward my apartment, busy listening to my headphones and removing my hoodie because it's steamy and hot outside, a very tall, aggressive man with a goatee and a fedora walking the opposite direction walks in front of me and shouts "I THINK YOU'RE VERY PRETTY. WOULD YOU LIKE MY NAME AND NUMBER?" I continued walking and shouted "NOPE!" over my shoulder, which prompted him to look back with a disgusted look on his face.

I'm home

I slacked on the food diary. It wasn't as exciting as anticipated. I think I finished up the trip with a chicken breast sandwich with pineapple and a Mexican platter with a tamale, taco, enchilada, tostada, rice, beans and some other crap. And some cereal and juice and I don't know what else. I'm boring myself even typing this.

I went bowling last night and didn't even break 100, but I didn't care because I was giddy with joy. I had an urge to bowl for some reason, even though I haven't bowled with a real ball (I kick ass and take names when it comes to video bowling, though) in a few years. Over the course of 3 games I'm pretty sure I had 5 frames where I didn't hit a single pin. I tried to make a case for bumper bowling, but it fell on deaf ears. I did foul three times in a row in the second game, though, which I am pretty sure is just as good as three strikes in a row.

Let it be known that in Queens on Sunday nights you can bowl as much as you want for three hours with free shoes and free pizza and soda for $15. It's about as suburban as Red Lobster, but I'm totally into it. Let's start a club.

I went to Mexico today

I got a new hat. I only wish the weather in NY was appropriate for such at hat. I'm going to have to wait until next summer. But I'll hang the hat in my room and dream of summer, probably while wearing my ratty old man beret that I adore so much.

I was also hit on the leg by a tiny boy with filthy hands who said nothing but just held out his hand and looked at us desperately. Last time I went to Mexico I made it a point not to give to these kids (to be totally honest, I never give to panhandlers of any age) because it was clear that they were being sent out onto the streets by their parents because small children are more likely to gather funds than adults. Either way, the boy refused to leave until I said "lo siento, no" very firmly.

I suck, being a rich American. Actually, I have no money either, so screw that. I think I feel similarly about all the billionaires in this country who aren't helping with the economic bailout. It's not fair to expect someone who earned their funds to give them to those who, ahem, earn less, but you don't know how to fix this economic crisis. I don't know how to fix this economic crisis. Fucking Congress doesn't know how to fix this economic crisis. So, I'm going to stick out my metaphorical grubby hand out and ask for help. I don't want my money to be on fire anymore.

PS: Warren Buffet, you're awesome.

Where the sidewalk never begins

I'm visiting the family in South Texas this week since my new job hasn't begun. (Side note: Before I can begin working in NY schools, I have to have a physical, a TB test and get fingerprinted by the Board of Education AND the Board of Health. Being uninsured, I'm kind of excited I get a free physical.)

I'm going to keep an eating diary for this trip, as a) this marks my first trip to visit the parents since beginning to eat meat again and b) shit down here is GREASY and generally bad for you. I love bacon. We know this. But come on. I like fruit and vegetables to comprise about 85 percent of my diet. I'm not trying to die young or obese.

Also, my physical activity this week will be severely diminished, as this is Texas, and people drive everywhere. (Just ask my parents who drive their SUV to my grandma's house, which is two doors down.) And there are no sidewalks in their neighborhood.

On the up side, I plan to spend time walking around northern Mexico and hanging out in the sunshine at the beach on South Padre Island before I depart.

Onto the food!

Yesterday

• At Laguardia I ate a large bran muffin and a cup of coffee.
• For lunch at the DFW airport I had kung pao chicken with fried rice and vegetables. I threw out most of it because it was disgusting and ate an apple I had in my bag.
• For dinner I was whisked away to Outback, where I ate part of a Bloomin' Onion; a house salad comprised of iceburg lettuce, a few grape tomatoes, cucumbers and cheddar cheese, covered in honey mustard dressing; and chicken breast smothered in mushrooms, (more) cheddar cheese and bacon.

Today was much better

• Breakfast was coffee (thank you Mamaw for purchasing a coffee pot so I don't go insane with withdrawals), orange juice and Total cereal with soy milk
• Gala apple and a cereal bar for a snack
• Lunch? (the weird meal we ate at like 3:30 p.m.) was spinach artichoke dip with lasagna noodle chips, salad, garlic bread and Mahi Mahi with parmesan risotto and asparagus. Yes, this was delicious.
  

Dinner will probably involve some sort of cracker snack and juice from the pantry because I'm 5-years-old when I snack at my parents' house. Tomorrow will undoubtedly involve ground beef and piles of melted cheddar cheese.

Don't Mix Milk and Red Bull