potentially fatal side effects

Okay. so I received HORRIBLE news at the boxdoc this weekend. Apologies for setting up what might appear to be an overshare, I promise the severity of this announcement has nothing to do with gynecological health.
We were discussing something and she asked me if I drink a lot of caffeine or diet soda. I drink a lot of caffeine IN my diet soda, and since I've left college I don't have coffee with the same frequency because I jitter, which reminds me of anxiety, which makes me worried that I'm having anxiety, which makes me concerned about the fact that I'm no longer being treated for anxiety, which generally brings me right to the precipice of an anxiety attack, which is fun for absolutely no one. In any case, I drink diet coke in the morning as a nice routine wakeup... I like exchanging pleasantries with the middle aged indian man in the 8th street subway stop with his giant diamond pinkie ring; he likes that I almost always have exact change. I have a few more during the day... maybe two more on a bad day. What can I say? I like artificial sweeteners, I like keeping my caffeine high, I love guilt free cola flavor.

But apparently, my body DOES NOT love these things.

So my doctor told me that I need to stop drinking diet coke.

This news has not actually sunk in yet. (Partially because I'm now drinking more diet coke just to be defiant.) Diet coke (and its special occasion niece, diet orange sunkist) are my lifeblood. I am defined by the silver can or the red topped 20 oz bottle. I love the way it feels in my hand. I love the way it tastes, warm or cold. I am fully addicted to diet soda. And now some bitch with an MD is telling me that I should gradually wean myself off over the course of the next month, "just to see" if it'll make a difference?

I'd rather not. I'd rather be irritated/uncomfortable/inconvenienced FO-EVAH than give up the chemical delights of my daily drink. Diet Coke's seen me through an epic spectrum of life alterations, and I just don't think it's fair to abandon it now. (spoken like a true addict.)

I quit smoking (pretty much once and for all, except "socially" about once a month) after I graduated. I got a job, then I got another one, and an apartment and all sorts of real life stress without a chemical crutch. Now things are going moderately well, I am decently happy. And then there's this bombshell.

I am going to miss you, diet coke. I really am.
But we'll have our day again sometime soon.

best of the internetz

Today's such slow going at work that I considered starting a tumblr for all the extraneous reading I've been doing.
My task today is this:
Find music to send to our composer.
Which means I'm using music licensing sites.
At the risk of some sort of infringement, I'm not going to identify the sites, but when I've used them in the past, it's always been amusing how some people describe their songs to potential buyers. This new site I'm on today has a FABULOUSLY odd selection.

here is what I would consider a reasonable blurb:
Atmospheric piece with synth and strings pads and acoustic guitar arpeggios. Slowly builds up in emotion and drama.

here are the descriptions I've been reading as I search for "anthem" music:
note: these are copied EXACTLY from the site

Tainted water drips in a romantically lit sewer tunnel and the freelance art director sells it as sensual irony, client claps approvingly. Robotic rodent sex slaves rejoice when this pushy and uncomfortable track underscores their path to freedom.

Confident and bright, with a self-assured attitude built for taking on the day (in a corporate-training-video sort of way). Features a bass player just happy for a gig and guitarist who idolizes The Artist Formerly Known As.

Imagine yourself lost in the jungle... on the moon, with a monkey.

In the heart of Africa lives Mutambo. Hes cool and likes to dance a lot.

She's still there in the streets...all crazed and proud tea somebody?.well, what can you do about it it's her way to live... and she loves it like that I bet ya.

I'm a nerd. But a nerd that's part of the democratic process.

I wish I could actually vote no on prop. 8. But I can make a cheesy sign instead!

trudging slowly over wet sand

hide on the promenade
etch a postcard:
How i dearly wish I was not here

mumbled to the core.

i has a shiny new business card
So I failed pretty triumphantly towards the end of the NYFF, but in my defense there were heaps of Jewish holidays in there, and I went with Clyde to one of the Oshima movies (Merry Christmas, Mr. Lawrence) so I think I did my duty to cover a variety of festival related events. Apparently I missed all of the good, sexy Oshima movies, but seeing David Bowie punk a japanese general in guyliner with cheekbones that just wouldn't quit was worth the price of admission.
That, and the cameo from the most irritating character in my favorite-ever-film (The Cook, the Thief, His Wife and Her Lover) as yet another bizarro, unexplained boy soprano character...
Whoops. According to IMDB, this is false. But how many platinum blonde, hunchbacked English lads were there to choose from in the early 80's?
Apparently, a lion's share.

All you need is bun

NYFF Update:
Hunger
Wendy and Lucy
I'm Gonna Explode
Waltz with Bashir

Shorts:

Cry Me a River
I don't feel like dancing
This is her

Forthcoming:

Gomorrah
Afterschool
Chouga

---
Remember the story I wrote from the emergency room while waiting for ryan to potentially have his toe amputated?
Apparently, the saga continues, but this time with bun bun as the protagonist:

Once upon a time there was a bunny named Bun Bun. He was small and soft,
with white fluff and very expressive ears. He traveled around in the handbag
of his good friend, Zelda Mae Bun. While she was at work, he would emerge
from the bag and sprawl upon her head in a puddle of white fluff, or hop
about to nibble on important documents. He was the happiest bunny in the
whole wide world, and wrote several novels under the name Bun Scott
Fitzgerald, dedicating them to his one true love, Zelda.

But then one day, Zelda Mae decided to join a gang and eloped with a shady
Thai cineast. She threw her handbag into the East River, with the poor
little bunny still inside, and ran off to live at the Film Forum, only
emerging to feed on a mysteriously powerful demon rum called Sparks in the
hippest dives in Brooklyn. But being sound of health and quick of thought,
the little bunny climbed atop a corpse floating nearby, and used the
vibrating ring of Zelda Mae's iPhone to propel himself back to shore. There,
he hopped carefully through the forest of used hypodermic needletrees,
eventually climbing back into the dark mean city.

Once back on land, the incredulous Mr. Bun hopped into a nearby bodega,
where he spent several days disguised as a toilet brush - an item rarely
used by the locals. He survived for nearly a week by eating nothing but
spaghetti and velveeta. And then one day, to his great surprise, Zelda Mae
wandered into the bodega sporting a fashionable new handbag. Shocked and
horrified, the little bunny watched as Zelda Mae sauntered over to the
cooler to gather a great quantity of sparks. The quick-thinking bunny then
hopped into action, diving into Zelda Mae's fashionable new handbag while
she was distracted with her beverage acquisitions. There he hid as he waited
for his once beloved friend to finish her transaction, wondering how he
would broach the subject of their separation.

It was then, with great horror, that Bun Bun realized he was not alone in
Zelda Mae's fashionable new handbag. Grabbing a nearby lighter that should
not have been there at all, the handsome hare illuminated a wicked looking
feline creature curled up in what was rightfully his napping spot. The awful
creature let loose a terrifying hiss and revealed a set of retractable used
hypodermic needleclaws from its ugly little paw. The dread beastycat raised
its needleclaws high, poised to deal the sweet and wonderful bunny a deadly
blow. But the lovable ninjabun was ready for the hellkitty, quickly wielding
his recently sharpened switchblade...

Will the clever and adorable triumph over the despicable cat-thing? Or will
vice and wickedness persevere to make Zelda Mae a most macabre pair of bunny
slippers? Stay tuned for our next episode:

Along Came A Bunny
Or
There Will Be Bun