Dried apricots suck.
It's almost midnight and while I know that I kept busy all day, I can't remember much of what happened. I know that I went to the Palladium Sports Center this afternoon. NYU's less nice gym is much closer to the law school, so I didn't make time to check out the Palladium last semester. It's soooo much better. Everything's shiny and new. Also, the cardio room has a big wall of tv's. It's a bit of a hike from my apartment, but I think I'll make the effort to go back. Sometimes I really enjoy quiet when I work out, but I'm going to need distractions on some of my longer runs and the other gym doesn't have tv's.
I also finally bought a crepe at the crepe window down the street. The only other time I've had a crepe was at an outdoor creperie in Potsdam after exploring Sans Souci with friends. I guess it's not really fair to compare the two experiences, so I'll just say that today's crepe was tasty.
After seeing In Good Company this evening, I went to the Whole Foods at Columbus Circle and made a salad at the salad bar. If you're ever tempted to put salmon salad on a bed of lettuce and spinach, I strongly urge you to make sure the salmon salad does not contain dried apricots. If it does and you use it anyway, you will end up thinking the salad's rancid after your first bite. Once you discover that the offending taste is actually due to the apricots, you'll have dig them out of the salad (an annoying and time-consuming task). You will miss some and every fifth bite or so will make you flinch.
As I was leaving the Time Warner Center (home of Whole Foods), I felt a familiar desire to script my life. My two friends and I were riding up the escalator into the large atrium and there was hip, vaguely jazzy music playing (in the soundtrack score of my life, it would be titled "The Exit"). All three of us were wearing black longish wool coats and as we walked toward the revolving doors at the bottom of a huge wall of windows, I had a vision of what would've happened if my life was an action movie. Each of us would've strode toward the revolving doors with purpose, exuding calm confidence and before exiting the building we'd have put on sleek sunglasses. Once outside, I'd have lit a cigarette, taken a long drag and as I crossed the street to Central Park, flicked it over my shoulder without a backward glance. The moment the cigarette hit the ground, the Time Warner Center would've exploded and the wall of windows would've shattered spectacularly.
Alas, I kind of like the building and don't enjoy explosions. Also, I don't own sunglasses. So, I exited chatting with friends and internally fuming over the existence of dried apricots.
I also finally bought a crepe at the crepe window down the street. The only other time I've had a crepe was at an outdoor creperie in Potsdam after exploring Sans Souci with friends. I guess it's not really fair to compare the two experiences, so I'll just say that today's crepe was tasty.
After seeing In Good Company this evening, I went to the Whole Foods at Columbus Circle and made a salad at the salad bar. If you're ever tempted to put salmon salad on a bed of lettuce and spinach, I strongly urge you to make sure the salmon salad does not contain dried apricots. If it does and you use it anyway, you will end up thinking the salad's rancid after your first bite. Once you discover that the offending taste is actually due to the apricots, you'll have dig them out of the salad (an annoying and time-consuming task). You will miss some and every fifth bite or so will make you flinch.
As I was leaving the Time Warner Center (home of Whole Foods), I felt a familiar desire to script my life. My two friends and I were riding up the escalator into the large atrium and there was hip, vaguely jazzy music playing (in the soundtrack score of my life, it would be titled "The Exit"). All three of us were wearing black longish wool coats and as we walked toward the revolving doors at the bottom of a huge wall of windows, I had a vision of what would've happened if my life was an action movie. Each of us would've strode toward the revolving doors with purpose, exuding calm confidence and before exiting the building we'd have put on sleek sunglasses. Once outside, I'd have lit a cigarette, taken a long drag and as I crossed the street to Central Park, flicked it over my shoulder without a backward glance. The moment the cigarette hit the ground, the Time Warner Center would've exploded and the wall of windows would've shattered spectacularly.
Alas, I kind of like the building and don't enjoy explosions. Also, I don't own sunglasses. So, I exited chatting with friends and internally fuming over the existence of dried apricots.
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