Easter Lessons #1: Chocolate is a gift from God

Easter by definition (or according to the ever awesome and amazingly up to date Wikipedia) is "the most important annual religious feast in the Christian liturgical year." I have no idea what liturgical means (another online search tells me it means "of or pertaining to formal public worship") but what I can tell you is that I know it's about Jesus. And to over 2 billion people, Jesus was the coolest kid in mandals back in the day.
All my knowledge of Jesus and Easter has been gathered from old Hollywood movies rented from the local library. The ones where the men show leg in short tunics while the women have intense hairstyles and everything is super colorful. Seriously, who needs Sunday school when you can watch muscly men be withered and schooled by God and his boy in technicolor? I once went to Sunday school with my neighbor and was not enlightened at all. In a room of white kids, I discovered that they hated Sunday school and made paper airplanes during bible reading.
My family is not included within the 2 billion plus of Jesus fans, but Easter still has had an impact on me throughout my life. As a child, it gave me a day off from school every year. During this time I also learned that Christians have a holiday that is all about candy! Chocolate eggs, chocolate bunnies, chocolate covered this and chocolate covered that...chocolate chocolate chocolate! WTF! They even come in a basket. Baskets are so obsolete, the word looks wrong just typing it.
So, if Easter is about Jesus aka religion, and kids get candy aka chocolate on that day, then chocolate in itself is a Holy food? No? Yes?

My Beef With Heels

I was stabbed. By a heel. A sharp heel. In the foot.

I decided to wear flats that day. I had been wearing sneakers all week. Socks and thick sneakers, lots of padding. I decided to live a little, why not you know? It's officially Spring, even if global warming is fucking with us.

So I was standing at my usual spot on the 4/5 platform at the 86th street station, right behind a blonde woman in earth tones and browns. I can tell by my vantage point that she is short. She's wearing brown high heeled boots to make up for the severe shortness and I can still cleary see the top of her head. The train is approaching and as since the platform is lined with at least two rows of people, the front row naturally steps back while the back row (which I am in) stay put. She stepped back with her left foot and her heel made direct contact with the upper part of my left foot and lost her balance and the heel slid down my foot and stopped right above my second toe. This being the ending point, all her weight was concentrated and funneled through to the point of her heel. I did not see it coming. The shock of the pain actually was so much it vocalized itself into a fully pronounced "OUCH!". In the fuzzy aftershock, I faintly heard her brief apology. We both looked at my foot, but the blood had not surfaced yet. So the blonde turned around and we both went towards separate train doors and I needed to get to work.

Within the next few minutes, I started noticing a developing red line running down my foot. It was like I tried to scratch Orion's belt constellation onto my foot and ran out of room. Like connect the dots, but the shortest lamest connect the dots ever. I was immediately irritated and pissed at the woman for her lack of caring and obvious lack of awareness of her surroundings. I guess this would be the equivalent to road rage in the suburbs.
Once I got over the thin skin peel and the stinging, I told myself that Blondie, wherever she was, was feeling guilty. Since that's all the retribution that I'll be getting. Damn heels...