I less than three ice.

I’m obsessed with ice. I don’t mean this to be slang for diamonds, meth or any illicit street drug for that matter. I mean water in its frozen solid state. Now that we have that clear (pun totally intended), let’s move on, shall we?

Obviously, there are several different shapes and sizes of ice. Before I begin my "analysis," here is a list of the basic types of ice that we find at restaurants, gas stations, etc.: The Half-Moon, The Waffle, Cube with a Hole, and Crushed.

1. “The Half-Moon” – This is the standard shape of ice that comes out of most ice-makers in refrigerators. I hate this type. Even after you’ve poured some drink on top of it, it doesn’t melt down enough for you to be able to chew on it after. It fulfills its purpose of chilling your beverage, but I need an ice cube that I can chew on after I’ve finished my drink. This is the ice I have at home, so I tend to just pop it in my Oster brand blender (great for crushing ice) and give it a quick whirl.

2. “The Waffle” – Rectangular shaped, this type of ice usually comes attached to its kind. The rectangles on their own are small enough to be considered chewable, but they usually are attached in a chain or grid. You’d have to separate them from each other before you actually could eat any of them, and that’s just too much effort. The ideal cube requires the least amount of work from the consumer.

3. “Cube with a Hole” – This type of ice comes in a small, perfectly cubical shape and has a hole in one of the sides. Sometimes if you don’t drink your drink fast enough, this cube will melt into your drink, but usually that’s only an issue when you’re pouring a drink that’s on the warm side. This shape though is perfect for chewing; it’s small enough and doesn’t require much of a bite because of the space in the middle.

4. “Crushed” – I don’t think I have to explain this one that much. This is the type of ice you find at Sonic, Which Wich...I mean it’s crushed ice. This one seems like the perfect ice to chew on, but it’s really not. After a while, you start to taste some sort of chemical in the ice and you begin to feel a little sick. Not to mention this ice melts really fast and tends to water down your drink.

The winner, of course, would be number three.

Now, if you’re someone like me who is obsessed with ice, you probably fill your cup up with ice almost completely before putting any beverage in it. I’ve actually perfected my ice to fountain drink ratio. You fill your cup up ¾ of the way, start pouring your drink and count to 12. The fizzy part will hit the tip of the cup but not enough for it to overflow. That is just enough coke to drink while you eat, and after, your ice has melted down to be perfect for chewing/eating. You can’t always pour your own drink when you go out to eat, so in that situation I tend to just ask for extra ice and hope that they get it right. When my best friend orders my drink, he actually asks, “Can I get a cup of ice with some coke, please?”

At this point, I think you should wait until the next time you have a drink with ice before you doubt my mental stability. If you don’t think of me, then there’s something wrong with your memory.

Hi, my name is Salma and I have a problem.

I try to refrain from using pens. For some reason, every time I use a pen, I tend to get carried away doodling with it. I don’t even have to have paper around; I’ll draw on myself with it if there isn’t anything else to doodle on. I can’t tell you how many times I came home from school with hearts drawn on my hand and my mom thought I was in love with some boy at school. It’s just one of those standard shapes everyone draws. She never said anything when I came home with geometrical shapes drawn on me: “Salma! Why do you have boxes drawn on your hand!? Are you going to pack and move somewhere?” I’m not sure why I do it, it’s just a compulsion. Whatever the reason, I figured this out about myself in high school, so ever since I’ve been using pencils.

At work, I always have to have some sort of writing utensil handy incase I have to make a quick correction on drafts, jot down reminders on a Post-it or write some notes down during a meeting. There’s always something that I need to write. So, I started carrying a pencil behind my ear. That way I don’t have to hold it in my hand, but it’s always handy. During the day if I get tired of my hair being in my face, it also works as a great tool to keep my hair up: I just twist my hair and stick the pencil through; it works perfectly.

However, there is a problem. I’ve gotten so use to having a pencil on my ear, that now I don’t even notice that it’s there. There have been days where I’ll have my hair tied up with a pencil, I’ll have a pencil tucked behind my ear and I’ll be writing with a different pencil in my hand. Sometimes, I walk out of the office at the end of the day and there is still a pencil somewhere on me. I didn’t realize this until recently when I started noticing that all of my pencils were “disappearing” from my desk. At first I thought that someone must have just grabbed it off my desk, I must’ve left it somewhere in the office or some rat needed wood to build a fence around its house (okay, not really. If we have rats in our building they probably use gates and have security guards. After all, this is a high-rise in Downtown we’re talking about). Whatever. It wasn’t that big of a deal; it’s not like our office had a shortage in supply of pencils. I didn’t really think much of it. Then, a few nights ago as I was cleaning my apartment, I found about 8 pencils. I cleaned out my car the other day and found 5 more. I don’t know what to do. I’m a kleptomaniac, exclusively with pencils. Okay, well maybe that’s an exaggeration. I do not need to steal the pencils; I just forget that they’re on me so I take them home. You believe me....right?

I really need to break this habit of taking pencils home with me. I’m not sure how I can make a conscious effort to stop something I do subconsciously. Now that I think about it, I don’t even know why I use pencils at all. I should be traumatized by them really. When I was in kindergarten, this kid stabbed me with a pencil and the lead got stuck in my arm. I still have a scar from it. Why did he stab me you ask? Well, we had the same birthday and we got into an argument about who was older. I told him I was older, he said he was older, we argued, the argument escalated, he pulled out a pencil and jabbed it in my arm. As it turns out, he was actually a year older...I started school a year early. Maybe that’s why I carry a pencil around all the time: in case someone starts arguing with me, I can have a pencil ready to jab into their arm before they do. Ronald (that was his name), if I ever see you again...I’m 23 and I’ll jab you in the arm if you don’t believe me.

My name is Salma and I am a pencil thief ninja.

Not Much Ado About Nothing

I have writer’s block. It’s actually quite disappointing seeing as I’ve only made three posts on my blog so far. I tried getting some suggestions from friends, but none of the ideas really got me excited.

One of my friends told me to write about Uno, the card game. I considered it, but decided against it. The game actually pisses me off. There’s no really strategy to it. It’s really just the luck of the draw. The “ultimate” card is supposedly the Draw 4 card. Once you have that it’s like you’re in a room with a bag full of money in the middle, a bunch of people going after it, and you’re the only one with a gun. But oh wait, you can’t use the gun to scare someone unless you give them a mean look, then threaten them verbally, then get into a physical altercation. F*** that. Be efficient. Pull out the gun, scare those people, get the money and walk out. Although, the flip side to that is when someone throws a Draw 4 down on you. Has that ever happened to you? You just called Uno in your previous turn, you’re about to win, and some jerk puts down a Draw 4. It’s like getting punched in the throat. Wow, I sound really violent. I should stop talking like this. I love orange roses and yellow tulips.

The other suggestion I got was to write about what super power I would want to have. Again I pondered, but didn’t feel inspired. I go through my phases of what I would want my super power to be. When I was younger, I wanted to be like Alex Mack. How cool would it be if I could zap things and then melt into a puddle? Then I saw Matilda, and wanted her super powers. Oh, how I wish I could solve complex multiplication problems in my head...correctly, that is. Okay, this one really isn’t a super power, but after I saw Aladdin, I started trying to push in bathroom tiles and brick walls to see if one would fall through and lead me to the Cave of Wonders. I’m serious, I really did. After considering my options of the plethora of super heroes we have in our society, I chose Batman. Why, you ask? He’s human that’s why; he’s the only “real” option if I wanted to be a super hero, and because contrary to popular belief, I can’t warp into a puddle no matter how hard I try. I could totally have the same “super powers” as Batman if I tried. I would, of course, give myself a different super hero name. I suppose this is where I would tell you my clever super hero name, but honestly, I just can’t think of one right now.

So you see my dilemma. I really need to come up with something clever to write about. Uno and super powers just don’t make the cut. I’m going to try to get inspired; I’ll keep you guys posted.

Satan's Minions

I’m not really the type to dislike anyone; I like to give people the benefit of the doubt. I’m actually quite a positive, cheerful and bubbly personality...Yea, you’re right…Who am I kidding? Let’s face it. I’m a realist on the verge of pessimism. One of the reasons I can say this is because while most of you out there find kittens or cats cuddly and cute, I find them evil.

I hate cats. Unfortunately, I live in a very cat-friendly neighborhood. So everyday when I leave my apartment, when I come home to my apartment or even if I look out the window in my apartment, I see them. I will go so far as to say that my complex is infested with cats. I’ve seen at least FIVE different cats around here. That’s ten too many.

Those creatures always stare at you like they’re trying to suck the soul right out of your eyes. They’re so arrogant too. Once, I found a cat sitting on top of my car. Instead of saying something simple like “shoo,” I decided it’d be better to hit the panic button on the key to my car to scare it away. Well, the cat jumped off the car for sure, but it was glaring at me afterward. I’m sure this cat was thinking, “You b****. You stole my spot.” To which I replied in thought, “Well, you know if you want to pay me 20K for my new car, feel free to sit and scratch my car all you want.” By the way, if I can talk to cats via ESP then I’m sure there’s some sort of cat-talk to English translation system too.

Examples of evil cats: Lucifer from Cinderella, those Siamese cats from Lady and the Tramp, Shere Khan from the Jungle Book, Tigger from Winnie the Pooh (Okay, maybe he’s not evil, but let’s face it, he takes ecstasy, and that’s not “good.”), and finally, Scar from The Lion King.

I think I just realized why I hate cats so much. Maybe cats aren’t evil; maybe they’ve been depicted as evil in the media so people believe that cats are evil. Maybe that’s why Tom & Jerry is considered such a classic show. People enjoy watching that cat get tortured over and over. Cats aren’t evil. Humans are the ones that make up the bad image, cause the hatred, justify the revenge and hold the grudge. Cats are just the victims. Humans are evil.

…but I still don’t like cats.

From Airplanes to Shoelaces

As much as I love flying, I hate exiting an airplane. I don’t understand what the point of jumping out of your seat as if you just sat on a sharp needle and rushing about two feet to get to the aisle accomplishes. I mean, are you really going to get to exit the plane any faster if you’re so close to the person standing in line in front of you that you could literally breathe down their neck? God forbid if someone exited the airplane ahead of you and there was more than three inches of space. People need to relax and not get out of the plane as if Pepé Le Pew was sitting next to them (Yes, Pepé Le Pew should frighten you. He’s a rapist, and he stinks.). As for you people that fly first-class, shut up. In all seriousness though, why can’t people just keep their distance? Always “accidentally” stepping on other people’s feet or luggage or kids...just back off a little.

I hate it when I’m wearing sneakers and someone steps on my foot in such a way that it unties my shoe lace. I hate double-knotting because then it takes forever to untie them, and I don’t like stuffing the shoelace in my shoe because that just feels uncomfortable and defeats the point of wearing sneakers in the first place. Any who, so these crazy passengers step on my feet on their way out of the airplane and my shoelaces get untied. At this point, there’s obviously no space for me to bend down and retie my shoelace, so now I’m a safety hazard being herded like sheep out of an airplane.

By the time I get out of the airplane, I look down at my shoes and notice that the little plastic things on the edges of my shoelaces are gone because so many people have stepped on them. Now, I have to be careful that the lace doesn’t come out of any of the holes because then I won’t be able to get them back through. I’d have to buy new shoelaces. So much stress. I hate shopping. They should make fashionable adult sneakers with those Velcro straps. I say fashionable because the only sneakers I’ve seen for adults that have Velcro are those orthopedic shoes for senior citizens.

I think I’ve ranted enough. I should be honest though. In reality, none of these things really bother me. I just made a bet with a friend that I could write a blog entry that went from discussing airplanes to shoelaces.

Mission accomplished.

Only Oscar would appreciate this...

Recently, there was a partner that left the firm that I work at. In the process of moving out, there was a lot of trash to be thrown away, and thus came the need for a giant 50-gallon trash can. Since our office consisted of only small trash cans at the corner of every desk, we had to ask the management of our building to let us "borrow" one. It's been two weeks since my ex-boss officially moved out, and the trash can still remains.

It started off that we left the trash can in his old office, but after a week we realized that the maintenance people were not going into the empty office, hence not picking up the trash can. So then our receptionist decides to wheel the trash can out into the hallway so that when the maintenance staff comes at night, they would notice it and take it away. The next morning we came into work, and the trash can was in that hallway, staring us down.

Now I understand that a law firm has to keep a certain decor, it has to look presentable, and this trash can was quite an eye sore. Perhaps if it had been bedazzled and covered with luscious red silk instead of being giant, plastic and the color of a cloud during a torrential rainstorm, people would not have cared of its presence so much. Alas, it was hideous.

It did not bother me either way where the trash can was located. I sit in my office all day as it is. However, a partner of the firm walked by, saw the trash can, moved it back into the empty office, and decided to stop on his way back to his office and tell me about the trash can. He spent a good 5 minutes complaining about the positioning of the trash can and how it should be moved to the side and out of sight. I just looked back, smiled and nodded politely. In my head I was thinking, "Why the hell are you telling me about a damn trash can? I have work to do. You should be working and billing clients at your ridiculous $425 hourly rate. You wasted five minutes complaining about a trash can, that's like 35 dollars, I could have gotten a week's worth of Starbucks...Idiot."

As if that wasn't enough, this morning our receptionist noticed the trash can had not been taken away and it had been pushed back into the empty office. Again, she wheeled it out in the hallway for the maintenance people to notice and take away at the end of the day. An associate walks down the hallway, looks at the trash can, wheels it back into the empty office and decides to stop by my desk and complain about this trash can. Never in my life has an inanimate object caused me so much inconvenience. The guy went on for like 10 minutes about why the trash can should not be placed in the hallway, how it was an eye sore, how we should move it out at the end of the day, etc etc. Seriously people??? Do you not have anything better to do with your time than to complain to me about a freaking trash can? Ridiculous.

Clearly, this whole dilemma has created a need for me to vent. If this was a file I was sending around, I'm sure you Mac users would throw it in your...indeed...your trash. As for you psuedo-eco-friendly Windows users, you would drag this into your recycle bin.

I suppose that is all for now. I do have some sort of satisfaction knowing that you have wasted your time reading this.