A Moment at Joe's
While I was waiting to buy 3 personal pizzas and a tub of lemon meringue cookies at Trader Joes tonight, the couple in front of me was looking at the pet food display while waiting to buy their chickenless nuggets. The boyfriend joked about getting one of the prominently displayed chewy things for their dog. I think the blatant disgustingness of the chewy thing was the thrust of his joke. That concept, however, was completely lost on his girlfriend who started to cry and get snippy with him.
She told him that it was not appropriate to even joke about buying her dog something that contained meat, and if he ever did feed him meat, even if he thought it would be "funny," she would kill him. The boyfriend countered that the dog probably didn't have a vegetarian philosophy, but she was far too upset to let logic prevail. Her dog will NEVER eat meat.
Really, why buy a dog? Dogs are pretty carnivorous. It's like buying a chicken and being offended when someone offers it chicken feed. Or taking offence at offering a duck stale bread, or at offering me a tub of lemon meringue cookies. I’m very cookivorous.
Monday, February 28, 2005
Saturday, February 26, 2005
One More for the Road
I saw the dead penguin again today, but this time it was joined about a mile up the road, by what I thought was a turkey. It was a big round bird with brown feathers sticking up in back, though it had kind of a longish neck.
Upon consulting a friend that has a BS in animal science and works for the LA zoo, I came to realize it was probably a peahen, or girl peacock for those of you who didn't know (like me) that all peacocks are dudes.
Peahens, like penguins, are not the most nimble creatures ever to roam the earth. How do all these things get into the fast lane? I'm starting to think that some Pinole, California resident has a lot of weird pets, and he is getting sick of said pets pecking at the carpet. Or maybe, in the case of the penguin, sick of finding fish in his slippers. I think he entices the birds into the car with the offer of a trip to Berkeley, and then a few miles down the road the window comes down and out they go.
Everyone wants to make jokes, but animal cruelty is a serious matter. However, being the understanding guy I am, I'll start you out:
Why did the penguin and peahen cross the road?
or
A peahen and a penguin walk into a freeway and the freeway tender says...
I saw the dead penguin again today, but this time it was joined about a mile up the road, by what I thought was a turkey. It was a big round bird with brown feathers sticking up in back, though it had kind of a longish neck.
Upon consulting a friend that has a BS in animal science and works for the LA zoo, I came to realize it was probably a peahen, or girl peacock for those of you who didn't know (like me) that all peacocks are dudes.
Peahens, like penguins, are not the most nimble creatures ever to roam the earth. How do all these things get into the fast lane? I'm starting to think that some Pinole, California resident has a lot of weird pets, and he is getting sick of said pets pecking at the carpet. Or maybe, in the case of the penguin, sick of finding fish in his slippers. I think he entices the birds into the car with the offer of a trip to Berkeley, and then a few miles down the road the window comes down and out they go.
Everyone wants to make jokes, but animal cruelty is a serious matter. However, being the understanding guy I am, I'll start you out:
Why did the penguin and peahen cross the road?
or
A peahen and a penguin walk into a freeway and the freeway tender says...
Thinning the Population at the Zoo
Whist driving this week I saw what looked like a squished penguin. Or, to be perfectly accurate, half a squished penguin.
There have been a lot of dead skunks along the free way recently, and they do have the same color scheme. (No, this isn't the beginning of an elaborate "what's black and white and red all over" joke.) But it really looked like this particular 2 dimensional creature had flippers. And a beak.
I realize this doesn't make a lot of sense. It's not like a penguin could get tired of flying and land for a short but ill placed nap on the freeway. There's no water on the freeway for a penguin to swim itself through. And even if the penguin escaped from a zoo someplace, it's highly unlikely that it would have made it across 3 lanes of traffic only to get killed on the left side of the left lane. I mean, one more step and he would have been a happy and successful median penguin.
And as we all know, median penguins are invincible. (I think there is a pub quiz name in here someplace.)
Whist driving this week I saw what looked like a squished penguin. Or, to be perfectly accurate, half a squished penguin.
There have been a lot of dead skunks along the free way recently, and they do have the same color scheme. (No, this isn't the beginning of an elaborate "what's black and white and red all over" joke.) But it really looked like this particular 2 dimensional creature had flippers. And a beak.
I realize this doesn't make a lot of sense. It's not like a penguin could get tired of flying and land for a short but ill placed nap on the freeway. There's no water on the freeway for a penguin to swim itself through. And even if the penguin escaped from a zoo someplace, it's highly unlikely that it would have made it across 3 lanes of traffic only to get killed on the left side of the left lane. I mean, one more step and he would have been a happy and successful median penguin.
And as we all know, median penguins are invincible. (I think there is a pub quiz name in here someplace.)
Thursday, February 24, 2005
Yum
A friend is having a birthday/new house dinner on Monday. I asked if I should bring anything and she said I could bring some dessert if I wanted to. If I can find any, I think I'll bring the quintessential 90s desert - Vienetta. Do they still sell it? I haven't seen it recently, but I'm always looking for Ben and Jerry's when I go down that isle.
Ah Vienetta. So good, so sliceable, so very 90s.
A friend is having a birthday/new house dinner on Monday. I asked if I should bring anything and she said I could bring some dessert if I wanted to. If I can find any, I think I'll bring the quintessential 90s desert - Vienetta. Do they still sell it? I haven't seen it recently, but I'm always looking for Ben and Jerry's when I go down that isle.
Ah Vienetta. So good, so sliceable, so very 90s.
Fashion Nugget Part II
Today I went to get a burrito wearing my big gray work pants, a black t-shirt, and my gray jacket. It was cold out but I didn't zip up my jacket for fear of being mistaken for Dr. Evil.
On the way back, however, zipping up was the only way to go. I was cold and I had a burrito riding in my inside pocket, so I zipped up and started on the long road home with a burrito living close to my heart and warming my soul. I think there's a greeting card in there someplace.
Today I went to get a burrito wearing my big gray work pants, a black t-shirt, and my gray jacket. It was cold out but I didn't zip up my jacket for fear of being mistaken for Dr. Evil.
On the way back, however, zipping up was the only way to go. I was cold and I had a burrito riding in my inside pocket, so I zipped up and started on the long road home with a burrito living close to my heart and warming my soul. I think there's a greeting card in there someplace.
Where Did That Come From?
I seem to have developed a bruise on my right leg as if somebody half bit me. Or bit me all the way, but had no bottom teeth. Or perhaps no top teeth, depending on their biting orientation.
One way or the other, I'm going to be on the lookout for crazed people with removable sets of teeth. Unfortunately I see a lot of those kind of people, so I'll have to be vigilant.
I seem to have developed a bruise on my right leg as if somebody half bit me. Or bit me all the way, but had no bottom teeth. Or perhaps no top teeth, depending on their biting orientation.
One way or the other, I'm going to be on the lookout for crazed people with removable sets of teeth. Unfortunately I see a lot of those kind of people, so I'll have to be vigilant.
Tuesday, February 22, 2005
Fashion Nugget
Today I made some deliveries in the South Bay. I'm glad I don't go there very often.
On the way down I got stuck TWICE behind a street cleaner. Street cleaners are fine in their natural habitat – on a city street in the middle of the night or at the crack of dawn. But cleaning the freeway at 2pm on a Tuesday is not cool, though the caravan of public works trucks made it a little more bearable. In order from back to front it went: A big truck with an 8 foot bumper and blinking merge sign crapping out a constant stream of lit flares, street cleaner #1, street cleaner #2, and the lead truck with a guy hanging out the side, grabbing the big stuff and flinging it into the back.
Eventually I made it to San Leandro: Clad exclusively in sweatpants since 1654. I saw 5 people wearing sweatpants in a span of 20 minutes.
Not that I can judge. Today I went to the store and library wearing big, battleship gray, polyester pants, a green nylon windbreaker, white socks, and a t-shirt that says "Who Flung Poo" featuring a picture of a monkey with a baseball glove. If anyone wants to back my fashion line let me know. I'll round up some portly models.
Finally, totally unrelated to fashion, the open mic went pretty well. I did "Been Thinking About You" by Radiohead during which I only goofed up the lyrics once, and "Falling Down" by Muse, during which I screwed up the lyrics once and the chords twice. I only have myself to blame as 2 out of the 3 people who would have made the audience truly eclectic didn't show up.
Today I made some deliveries in the South Bay. I'm glad I don't go there very often.
On the way down I got stuck TWICE behind a street cleaner. Street cleaners are fine in their natural habitat – on a city street in the middle of the night or at the crack of dawn. But cleaning the freeway at 2pm on a Tuesday is not cool, though the caravan of public works trucks made it a little more bearable. In order from back to front it went: A big truck with an 8 foot bumper and blinking merge sign crapping out a constant stream of lit flares, street cleaner #1, street cleaner #2, and the lead truck with a guy hanging out the side, grabbing the big stuff and flinging it into the back.
Eventually I made it to San Leandro: Clad exclusively in sweatpants since 1654. I saw 5 people wearing sweatpants in a span of 20 minutes.
Not that I can judge. Today I went to the store and library wearing big, battleship gray, polyester pants, a green nylon windbreaker, white socks, and a t-shirt that says "Who Flung Poo" featuring a picture of a monkey with a baseball glove. If anyone wants to back my fashion line let me know. I'll round up some portly models.
Finally, totally unrelated to fashion, the open mic went pretty well. I did "Been Thinking About You" by Radiohead during which I only goofed up the lyrics once, and "Falling Down" by Muse, during which I screwed up the lyrics once and the chords twice. I only have myself to blame as 2 out of the 3 people who would have made the audience truly eclectic didn't show up.
Sunday, February 20, 2005
Open Mic - Last Minute Announcement
For all those interested, I'll be playing the Dylan's open mic tomorrow. I hope to play at 9:40pm. It's at 19th and Folsom - be there or be someplace else.
I think I'll play a cover each from Radiohead and Muse. All I have to do now is memorize the songs before tomorrow so I don't embarrass myself terribly in front of an extremely eclectic group.
For all those interested, I'll be playing the Dylan's open mic tomorrow. I hope to play at 9:40pm. It's at 19th and Folsom - be there or be someplace else.
I think I'll play a cover each from Radiohead and Muse. All I have to do now is memorize the songs before tomorrow so I don't embarrass myself terribly in front of an extremely eclectic group.
Friday, February 18, 2005
Some Things Unrelated For Free (STUFF)
*I have two actual things scheduled for this weekend, and then a number of tentative things that are already falling through. Apparently, to me two things is a lot. I was worrying that I wouldn't have time to do my laundry before Monday. But as I sit here on this, my run of the mill Friday night, I realize that I could do laundry now, or tomorrow between my scheduled activities, or during any portion of my extremely tentative Sunday. I need to learn that two events on either end of a Saturday does not a weekend fill.
*Today my supervisor was telling me stories of living in San Francisco in the late 60s. Apparently he was in a house right at Haight and Ashbury with something like 9 rooms which became available when this really big, nasty, mean guy with a beard was evicted, and the big, mean, nasty landlord let them move in. Eventually the BNM guy moved back in, and when the BNM landlord saw him, the landlord stabbed the guy in the knee with the huge screwdriver he liked to carry around. The stabbee's girlfriend pulled her gun on the landlord and the police were called to sort it out. Eventually the situation calmed down and no more damage was done beyond the hole in the guy's knee which lined up nicely with the hole in his leather pants. They were all evicted, but managed to fight it for 3 rent-free months on the argument that "the landlord was stabbing people with screwdrivers."
At that point one of the roommates moved into a cave near the Cliff House Restaurant, and most of the rest found an empty house in Novato. They moved all their stuff in and lived there for a few months before a man walked up the driveway.
Man: Who the hell are you people?!
Them: Who the hell are you?
Man: I'm the guy that owns this house.
Them: Oh. We'd like to rent it from you.
Man: Ok. $200 a month.
Them: Done.
Between 10 and 20 people lived in the house until the man died and the house was left to his kids who decided to sell it.
*Falling Down by Muse is just an excellent song. If I could figure out the chords for the chorus I might attempt it at open mic.
*I'm thinking I should put all the crap I don't want on eBay. One of those auction-off-my-life things. (Although all the crap I don't want is no where near all my crap.)
*I have two actual things scheduled for this weekend, and then a number of tentative things that are already falling through. Apparently, to me two things is a lot. I was worrying that I wouldn't have time to do my laundry before Monday. But as I sit here on this, my run of the mill Friday night, I realize that I could do laundry now, or tomorrow between my scheduled activities, or during any portion of my extremely tentative Sunday. I need to learn that two events on either end of a Saturday does not a weekend fill.
*Today my supervisor was telling me stories of living in San Francisco in the late 60s. Apparently he was in a house right at Haight and Ashbury with something like 9 rooms which became available when this really big, nasty, mean guy with a beard was evicted, and the big, mean, nasty landlord let them move in. Eventually the BNM guy moved back in, and when the BNM landlord saw him, the landlord stabbed the guy in the knee with the huge screwdriver he liked to carry around. The stabbee's girlfriend pulled her gun on the landlord and the police were called to sort it out. Eventually the situation calmed down and no more damage was done beyond the hole in the guy's knee which lined up nicely with the hole in his leather pants. They were all evicted, but managed to fight it for 3 rent-free months on the argument that "the landlord was stabbing people with screwdrivers."
At that point one of the roommates moved into a cave near the Cliff House Restaurant, and most of the rest found an empty house in Novato. They moved all their stuff in and lived there for a few months before a man walked up the driveway.
Man: Who the hell are you people?!
Them: Who the hell are you?
Man: I'm the guy that owns this house.
Them: Oh. We'd like to rent it from you.
Man: Ok. $200 a month.
Them: Done.
Between 10 and 20 people lived in the house until the man died and the house was left to his kids who decided to sell it.
*Falling Down by Muse is just an excellent song. If I could figure out the chords for the chorus I might attempt it at open mic.
*I'm thinking I should put all the crap I don't want on eBay. One of those auction-off-my-life things. (Although all the crap I don't want is no where near all my crap.)
Thursday, February 17, 2005
Too Much Stuff
I've been peering around my room lately marveling at the sheer volume of crap I own. I'm going to need to go through it pretty soon so I don't end up packing it up and filling up what will probably be a little tiny studio apartment. At some point I'm going to post quite the free stuff ad on Craigslist.
Does anyone want several blank notebooks with most of the pages ripped out? A hula girl cradling some plastic swords? An IO port card that goes to a computer predating SCSI, ISA and PCI? A thrustmaster throttle controller with an old style pc keyboard connection? My failed attempt to create a remote control for a furby? The furby that refused to be controlled? A more entertaining post to read?
Yeah, me too.
I've been peering around my room lately marveling at the sheer volume of crap I own. I'm going to need to go through it pretty soon so I don't end up packing it up and filling up what will probably be a little tiny studio apartment. At some point I'm going to post quite the free stuff ad on Craigslist.
Does anyone want several blank notebooks with most of the pages ripped out? A hula girl cradling some plastic swords? An IO port card that goes to a computer predating SCSI, ISA and PCI? A thrustmaster throttle controller with an old style pc keyboard connection? My failed attempt to create a remote control for a furby? The furby that refused to be controlled? A more entertaining post to read?
Yeah, me too.
Wednesday, February 16, 2005
Old Homework
I was going through a pile of old homework and notes in my closet tonight in preparation for moving. (Which is a ways of just yet.) I realized several things:
-I spent a fortune on binders
-I generally only filled notebooks halfway
-I'm not going to be able to relearn stuff from my notes on a subject which I only had a tenuous grasp of in the first place.
I also found some old homework assignments such as the one from Communications 134, were we all had to go out and have a conversation with a stranger. I shall post it here because my old essays entertain me.
Michael Kadel
CMN 134
Homework #3
Conversation Reaction
The only stranger I managed to have a conversation with during the time span of this assignment was this girl named Amanda at the G Street pub. The reason I approached her was, I’ll admit it, that she was attractive. She was sitting across the table from me. I was sitting next to someone I knew, but the rest of the table was occupied by friends of the person I was sitting next to.
The reason for the interaction was that I was quite simply looking for a date, well that and I needed a conversation for this assignment. I’m a terribly shy person who doesn’t just wander around having conversations with strangers. I don’t form sentences very well when I’m trying to carry on a conversation with someone I don’t know. This was the case when I had my conversation with Amanda.
I did my best to engage in small talk, but the lack of even flow seemed to make her, as well as me, a little uncomfortable. Many of the rules of conversation were broken, some on accident, some by necessity. One such broken rule was number five: Be efficient. Due to my lack of sentence forming ability when I’m nervous, I tend to restate things several times. I’ll leave out words, and then try again when I realize what I’ve said so far doesn’t make sense. Hardly the picture of efficiency. Another rule I broke was number three: Be clear. For some reason I seemed to have what seemed like millions of obscure movie references to draw from, none of which she had seen. Jokes go over so poorly when the receiving party doesn’t get it. The last rule which was broken was number ten: Be articulate. We were in a bar, and there was a band playing, so shouting was the only way to carry on any sort of conversation at all. In addition, my voice does not carry well, so articulation was not in the cards.
Over all I’m not that satisfied with the interaction. Just the fact that I tried to have the conversation at all is commendable for me, but the result was not as I had hoped it would be. Amanda seemed uninterested in the conversation which made it especially hard to keep it going. Even if she had been more interested, it was difficult to hear over the band. To file the dialog, I would categorize it two ways. On my end, it was Genuine Dialog. I was trying to talk to her as an individual and was concerned with trying to begin a relationship. From her end I would categorize the conversation as Monologic. She wasn’t so much talking to me as she was trying not to seem rude.
Next time I think I’ll try to find someone who seems more interested in a conversation to begin with, instead of picking someone uninterested who is near by. I will also try to start these thing when the background noise is at a reasonable volume. Other than those two improvements, I need to improve me ability to converse with strangers. But I can’t necessarily change that for “next time.” Improvement in that area will only come with practice, and with many more uncomfortable conversations.
I was going through a pile of old homework and notes in my closet tonight in preparation for moving. (Which is a ways of just yet.) I realized several things:
-I spent a fortune on binders
-I generally only filled notebooks halfway
-I'm not going to be able to relearn stuff from my notes on a subject which I only had a tenuous grasp of in the first place.
I also found some old homework assignments such as the one from Communications 134, were we all had to go out and have a conversation with a stranger. I shall post it here because my old essays entertain me.
Michael Kadel
CMN 134
Homework #3
Conversation Reaction
The only stranger I managed to have a conversation with during the time span of this assignment was this girl named Amanda at the G Street pub. The reason I approached her was, I’ll admit it, that she was attractive. She was sitting across the table from me. I was sitting next to someone I knew, but the rest of the table was occupied by friends of the person I was sitting next to.
The reason for the interaction was that I was quite simply looking for a date, well that and I needed a conversation for this assignment. I’m a terribly shy person who doesn’t just wander around having conversations with strangers. I don’t form sentences very well when I’m trying to carry on a conversation with someone I don’t know. This was the case when I had my conversation with Amanda.
I did my best to engage in small talk, but the lack of even flow seemed to make her, as well as me, a little uncomfortable. Many of the rules of conversation were broken, some on accident, some by necessity. One such broken rule was number five: Be efficient. Due to my lack of sentence forming ability when I’m nervous, I tend to restate things several times. I’ll leave out words, and then try again when I realize what I’ve said so far doesn’t make sense. Hardly the picture of efficiency. Another rule I broke was number three: Be clear. For some reason I seemed to have what seemed like millions of obscure movie references to draw from, none of which she had seen. Jokes go over so poorly when the receiving party doesn’t get it. The last rule which was broken was number ten: Be articulate. We were in a bar, and there was a band playing, so shouting was the only way to carry on any sort of conversation at all. In addition, my voice does not carry well, so articulation was not in the cards.
Over all I’m not that satisfied with the interaction. Just the fact that I tried to have the conversation at all is commendable for me, but the result was not as I had hoped it would be. Amanda seemed uninterested in the conversation which made it especially hard to keep it going. Even if she had been more interested, it was difficult to hear over the band. To file the dialog, I would categorize it two ways. On my end, it was Genuine Dialog. I was trying to talk to her as an individual and was concerned with trying to begin a relationship. From her end I would categorize the conversation as Monologic. She wasn’t so much talking to me as she was trying not to seem rude.
Next time I think I’ll try to find someone who seems more interested in a conversation to begin with, instead of picking someone uninterested who is near by. I will also try to start these thing when the background noise is at a reasonable volume. Other than those two improvements, I need to improve me ability to converse with strangers. But I can’t necessarily change that for “next time.” Improvement in that area will only come with practice, and with many more uncomfortable conversations.
Tuesday, February 15, 2005
Proof of My Rotten Core
Super Bowl Sunday mostly involved me standing around in the kitchen, not doing a good job eating olives, and talking to friends. I watched 0 commercials, and only looked at the game a couple of times when shouts came up from the people in the living room. During these crucial moments I would look to see what was going on, remember that I didn't care, and go back to dipping home-made chocolate chip cookies in whipped cream.
However, I did see a bit of the pre-game show. When I turned on the TV they had just started singing the national anthem and maybe one or two other patriotic songs. All the country performers were wandering around on stage in their sleeveless flag motif shirts singing about how swell America is. Then the camera cut to a close up of a girl.
The girl in question was looking both off to the left and off to the right at the same time. She was seriously walleyed. I've noticed that during televised sporting events the camera will often cut into the crowd to some attractive or entertaining person, this girl obviously fitting into group #2. I started to laugh.
I mean, she must have THE BEST peripheral vision, possibly over 180 degrees worth. But as I'm laughing the camera starts to zoom out and pan, and I realize that the producers of the pre-game show have surrounded the stage with legions of the singing mentally challenged. Initially I was laughing at the close up shot of the girl, and with the realization of what I was actually laughing at, I started to laugh harder.
There I was, sitting on the couch having a hearty laugh at the expense of patriotic, mentally challenged kids, when my roommate notices and inquires, "Michael (the roommate equivalent of using somebody's full name)?! Are you laughing at the handicapped?!"
Yes. Yes I am.
Super Bowl Sunday mostly involved me standing around in the kitchen, not doing a good job eating olives, and talking to friends. I watched 0 commercials, and only looked at the game a couple of times when shouts came up from the people in the living room. During these crucial moments I would look to see what was going on, remember that I didn't care, and go back to dipping home-made chocolate chip cookies in whipped cream.
However, I did see a bit of the pre-game show. When I turned on the TV they had just started singing the national anthem and maybe one or two other patriotic songs. All the country performers were wandering around on stage in their sleeveless flag motif shirts singing about how swell America is. Then the camera cut to a close up of a girl.
The girl in question was looking both off to the left and off to the right at the same time. She was seriously walleyed. I've noticed that during televised sporting events the camera will often cut into the crowd to some attractive or entertaining person, this girl obviously fitting into group #2. I started to laugh.
I mean, she must have THE BEST peripheral vision, possibly over 180 degrees worth. But as I'm laughing the camera starts to zoom out and pan, and I realize that the producers of the pre-game show have surrounded the stage with legions of the singing mentally challenged. Initially I was laughing at the close up shot of the girl, and with the realization of what I was actually laughing at, I started to laugh harder.
There I was, sitting on the couch having a hearty laugh at the expense of patriotic, mentally challenged kids, when my roommate notices and inquires, "Michael (the roommate equivalent of using somebody's full name)?! Are you laughing at the handicapped?!"
Yes. Yes I am.
Monday, February 14, 2005
2 Things
1) My post counter seems to have started working again. It looks like I've posted 171 times. That's a whole lotta nothin’.
2) I met my 4th Yahoo person on Sunday, and saw her again tonight. As per usual, I have no idea how it's going, though I'm getting the impression that she'd just like to be friends from her many and varied statements about how it's too bad that everyone on Yahoo Personals is looking for a relationship. Whatever. I could probably due with more friends. I could also due with more sleep. Where does the day go, and how does the morning sneak up so fast? Frickin morning. Geez.
1) My post counter seems to have started working again. It looks like I've posted 171 times. That's a whole lotta nothin’.
2) I met my 4th Yahoo person on Sunday, and saw her again tonight. As per usual, I have no idea how it's going, though I'm getting the impression that she'd just like to be friends from her many and varied statements about how it's too bad that everyone on Yahoo Personals is looking for a relationship. Whatever. I could probably due with more friends. I could also due with more sleep. Where does the day go, and how does the morning sneak up so fast? Frickin morning. Geez.
Sunday, February 13, 2005
The Date
Not so good. Not terrible, just not great.
Since I had some vague idea what to expect with Thai food, we went to a Thai place for dinner. During dinner we had some halting and uncomfortable conversation.
During the drive to pick her up I made a mental list of all the conversation topics I could think of: School, music, jewelry making, where we hail from, etcetera. Unfortunately we exhausted all my prepackaged conversation questions on the way to the restaurant.
Part way through dinner I started to think, "This is going poorly, but that's ok, it's only dinner. I can go home and do laundry after this." But as we stepped outside she said, "So what do you want to do now? Want to catch a movie?"
I thought, "Um, er. Not really."
I said, "Um, er. Sure."
In the immortal words of Oklahoma, "I'm just a girl who can't say no." Or something like that.
So we went to see A Very Long Engagement. Which was a very long movie starting Audrey Tautou. The highlight of the movie was seeing Audrey Tautou's butt, and the lowlight of the movie was the rest of the movie. It had a ton of characters who switched identities from time to time, and I'm not good with names, especially when I'm reading them from subtitles. It was also surprisingly gory. I read a review (which I remembered after I saw the movie) that summarized it well. He called it Amelie Goes to War. That about sums it up, except that it's less funny and cute and a lot more bloody.
So much for that. I'm meeting someone else tonight at a bar to see a band, but I'm not holding my breath.
Not so good. Not terrible, just not great.
Since I had some vague idea what to expect with Thai food, we went to a Thai place for dinner. During dinner we had some halting and uncomfortable conversation.
During the drive to pick her up I made a mental list of all the conversation topics I could think of: School, music, jewelry making, where we hail from, etcetera. Unfortunately we exhausted all my prepackaged conversation questions on the way to the restaurant.
Part way through dinner I started to think, "This is going poorly, but that's ok, it's only dinner. I can go home and do laundry after this." But as we stepped outside she said, "So what do you want to do now? Want to catch a movie?"
I thought, "Um, er. Not really."
I said, "Um, er. Sure."
In the immortal words of Oklahoma, "I'm just a girl who can't say no." Or something like that.
So we went to see A Very Long Engagement. Which was a very long movie starting Audrey Tautou. The highlight of the movie was seeing Audrey Tautou's butt, and the lowlight of the movie was the rest of the movie. It had a ton of characters who switched identities from time to time, and I'm not good with names, especially when I'm reading them from subtitles. It was also surprisingly gory. I read a review (which I remembered after I saw the movie) that summarized it well. He called it Amelie Goes to War. That about sums it up, except that it's less funny and cute and a lot more bloody.
So much for that. I'm meeting someone else tonight at a bar to see a band, but I'm not holding my breath.
Thursday, February 10, 2005
Holy Crap
I was worried once again that a Yahoo girl had given up on me. But low and behold, an email has just arrived countering my offer of coffee with a casual Friday dinner. The dinner choices: Thai or Cambodian.
So now I have to choose between spilling stuff all over myself (Thai) or wondering what I'm eating (and quite possibly displaying my astounding lack of worldliness: Thai.)
AND she suggested that I pick her up. What if she hates me? I certainly wouldn't ask me to pick me up on our first date. I'd want to meet me someplace so we could go my own separate ways. (At which point there would be 2 of me running around having embarrassing dates, and nobody wants that.)
I was worried once again that a Yahoo girl had given up on me. But low and behold, an email has just arrived countering my offer of coffee with a casual Friday dinner. The dinner choices: Thai or Cambodian.
So now I have to choose between spilling stuff all over myself (Thai) or wondering what I'm eating (and quite possibly displaying my astounding lack of worldliness: Thai.)
AND she suggested that I pick her up. What if she hates me? I certainly wouldn't ask me to pick me up on our first date. I'd want to meet me someplace so we could go my own separate ways. (At which point there would be 2 of me running around having embarrassing dates, and nobody wants that.)
Wednesday, February 09, 2005
Questions Answered
Since nothing interesting happened today, I shall answer comment questions.
Lighting the votive: Shoot 2 squirts of binaca as close to the wick as possible. Then stand back 6 or so inches from the candle (making sure nothing flammable is near by) and shoot a 3rd squirt of binaca over a lit lighter into the candle. This creates a fireball which, in turn, lights the binaca gathered below the wick. For some reason the binaca residue hangs out in votive wax for longer than it does on other things, which happens to be just enough time to get the candle going.
Killing flies: Same idea as lighting the candle, except no candle, and aim the fireball at the fly.
Here's a question of my own: Why are skunks so depressed right now? I see (and/or smell) 3 or 4 dead skunks a day. Why are the skunks crossing the road? To get hit by a semi? To make the Bay Area smell bad? The point certainly doesn't seem to be to get to the other side. I think they walk half way across the street, stop, turn, stand up on their hind legs, put one paw on a hip and stretch the other paw out front in the universal sign for stop. We don't stop, and now the freeways smell. Cheer up little buddies. You've so much to live for.
Since nothing interesting happened today, I shall answer comment questions.
Lighting the votive: Shoot 2 squirts of binaca as close to the wick as possible. Then stand back 6 or so inches from the candle (making sure nothing flammable is near by) and shoot a 3rd squirt of binaca over a lit lighter into the candle. This creates a fireball which, in turn, lights the binaca gathered below the wick. For some reason the binaca residue hangs out in votive wax for longer than it does on other things, which happens to be just enough time to get the candle going.
Killing flies: Same idea as lighting the candle, except no candle, and aim the fireball at the fly.
Here's a question of my own: Why are skunks so depressed right now? I see (and/or smell) 3 or 4 dead skunks a day. Why are the skunks crossing the road? To get hit by a semi? To make the Bay Area smell bad? The point certainly doesn't seem to be to get to the other side. I think they walk half way across the street, stop, turn, stand up on their hind legs, put one paw on a hip and stretch the other paw out front in the universal sign for stop. We don't stop, and now the freeways smell. Cheer up little buddies. You've so much to live for.
Tuesday, February 08, 2005
Some Things
- My Yahoo profile has just come back online after the Personals staff deemed it fit for public consumption, and I've just gotten my first icebreaker. From looking at her profile, I can see myself dating her, but I'm not sure that she can see herself dating me. I'm not sure if she's looked at her profile, but it says that she wants someone who is 2 inches taller and makes $40,000 more a year than me. I don't think either of those things are going to happen between now and when I email her.
- Votive candles are tall and skinny and hard to light when the wick burns down to more than 3 inches below the rim. But I've come up with a solution. (And it doesn't involve buying one of those long lighters. Be creative people.) Since candles burn they way they do, the wick is always the lowest point. So any binaca sprayed into the candle collects under the wick. Then when a fireball of binaca is sprayed down into the candle, it usually sputters for a bit, and then jumps merrily to life. Binaca has soooo many uses. Freshens breath, helps me breath fire, kills flies, and lights those hard to reach places. It also removes the hair from my fingers from time to time, but that's more than worth a good fireball.
- Because of an ill-advised purchasing decision on the part of my roommate, we now have roughly a pound and a half of olives in our fridge. I'm did my part to get rid of them by ordering an 18" mushroom pizza, and when it arrived, covering it in olives. Turns out that an 18" pizza only took care of the little tiny Tupperware of olives in the fridge. The gigantic Tupperware full of olives lives on.
- Last night I got in bed at 8:30 and was asleep by 9:30. Why, you ask? Because I'm an old, old man who wishes his neighbors would "turn that racket down." Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go listen to a book on tape.
- My Yahoo profile has just come back online after the Personals staff deemed it fit for public consumption, and I've just gotten my first icebreaker. From looking at her profile, I can see myself dating her, but I'm not sure that she can see herself dating me. I'm not sure if she's looked at her profile, but it says that she wants someone who is 2 inches taller and makes $40,000 more a year than me. I don't think either of those things are going to happen between now and when I email her.
- Votive candles are tall and skinny and hard to light when the wick burns down to more than 3 inches below the rim. But I've come up with a solution. (And it doesn't involve buying one of those long lighters. Be creative people.) Since candles burn they way they do, the wick is always the lowest point. So any binaca sprayed into the candle collects under the wick. Then when a fireball of binaca is sprayed down into the candle, it usually sputters for a bit, and then jumps merrily to life. Binaca has soooo many uses. Freshens breath, helps me breath fire, kills flies, and lights those hard to reach places. It also removes the hair from my fingers from time to time, but that's more than worth a good fireball.
- Because of an ill-advised purchasing decision on the part of my roommate, we now have roughly a pound and a half of olives in our fridge. I'm did my part to get rid of them by ordering an 18" mushroom pizza, and when it arrived, covering it in olives. Turns out that an 18" pizza only took care of the little tiny Tupperware of olives in the fridge. The gigantic Tupperware full of olives lives on.
- Last night I got in bed at 8:30 and was asleep by 9:30. Why, you ask? Because I'm an old, old man who wishes his neighbors would "turn that racket down." Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go listen to a book on tape.
Monday, February 07, 2005
What a Place to Poop
On the way home from work I saw a very small dog taking a crap in the middle of a crosswalk while his owner looked back and forth between his wee, squatting dog and the countdown to green for the oncoming traffic. I now understand how many uses those crosswalk countdown things have:
1) They tell you how much time you have to get across the street.
2) When in a car, they tell you how much time you have before the light turns yellow.
3) They add artificial suspense to pooping.
As I watched as the counter went down from 7 seconds, to 6, then to 5, I really did feel a little tense. Would he finish up in time? Would there be a last-second problem with the plastic collection-bag, using up precious crossing seconds?
It turned out that the dog finished at about 3, the owner deftly scooped with his baggie at 2, and they had safely made it to the curb by 0.
Who says I didn't have an exciting day?
On the way home from work I saw a very small dog taking a crap in the middle of a crosswalk while his owner looked back and forth between his wee, squatting dog and the countdown to green for the oncoming traffic. I now understand how many uses those crosswalk countdown things have:
1) They tell you how much time you have to get across the street.
2) When in a car, they tell you how much time you have before the light turns yellow.
3) They add artificial suspense to pooping.
As I watched as the counter went down from 7 seconds, to 6, then to 5, I really did feel a little tense. Would he finish up in time? Would there be a last-second problem with the plastic collection-bag, using up precious crossing seconds?
It turned out that the dog finished at about 3, the owner deftly scooped with his baggie at 2, and they had safely made it to the curb by 0.
Who says I didn't have an exciting day?
Friday, February 04, 2005
Googling for Dates
Since it worked so well for the girl on Yahoo, I've now put a picture on my personals listing that includes the words "Photo by Sypbisi." Now all I have to do is let Google work its magic, and when eligible web savvy ladies search for the mysterious Sypbisi, they'll get Sypbisi. Muh ha ha ha ha ha! (Or they'll get this post which works too.)
Since it worked so well for the girl on Yahoo, I've now put a picture on my personals listing that includes the words "Photo by Sypbisi." Now all I have to do is let Google work its magic, and when eligible web savvy ladies search for the mysterious Sypbisi, they'll get Sypbisi. Muh ha ha ha ha ha! (Or they'll get this post which works too.)
Thursday, February 03, 2005
Dining in Healdsburg
As I drive around in the little towns of California, I tend to fool myself into thinking that the restaurants I see are all undiscovered treasures. That I'll be able to say to all the girls I'm currently not managing to date that "I know this great Italian place in Healdsburg," and that she'll be all impressed with my knowledge of obscure eateries.
But it's just not true. All these places are terrible.
This week I went to the afore mentioned Italian place in Healdsburg for lunch. I got there at 11:30am, and was a little worried they wouldn't be open yet. Their sign said they opened for lunch at 11am, but their door communicated a certain indisputable lockedness. But after jiggling the handle, the waitress / chef / hostess / girl-still-on-high school-winter-break opened the door and told me I could sit wherever I liked. (She was decked out in the lasted Healdsburg fashions: Pink studded belt, pink shirt, matching pink eye shadow, and expertly crimped hair.)
I wandered through 3 rooms of empty seats and finally settled on a booth near a window in the back. Unfortunately the booth wasn't wild about me sitting there, and the bench tipped up and tried to dump me onto the floor. I chose a different booth.
When presented with the menu, I decided on a chef salad with ranch dressing (the greatest condiment in the universe), and a lemonade.
Let's define some things before I go on.
Chef Salad: A salad containing lettuce, ham, turkey, cheese, and tomatoes. Optional ingredients include mushrooms, carrots, sprouts, and pickled beats.
Lemonade: A translucent yellow drink coming from either a can, a bottle, from squeezing lemons and adding sugar, or from country time brand lemonade powder.
Agreed?
The chef salad that arrived on my table included the following: Lettuce (good), carrots (still on the right track), ham (they sure know how to make a salad), salami (no!), garbanzo beans (seriously, no!), kidney beans (this is now 2 too many beans), 2 pepperincinis (these I like but was not expecting), and NO cheese. Where's my turkey?
Then there was my lemonade. I have never seen something in a glass that opaque which didn't include ice cream as a main ingredient. My theory is that it was made from putting lemon flavored spice drops through a juicer. Then they added a little water so the ice in the glass would have something to float in. Refreshing.
Since I was the only person in the restaurant, the service was still pretty good despite the fact that 5 calls came in during the half hour I sat there, all of which were for the waitress. My favorite call was one where she told the person, "I want to go to Thailand and hug a lemur. Yeah, lemurs are super cute. Or maybe a sloth. Sloths are just so chill."
Instead of being able to explain the wide variety of undiscovered culinary delights in Northern California, I can explain where subways are in San Rafael, San Francisco, Oakland, Napa, American Canyon, Kentfield, Cloverdale, Davis, Sacramento, and Vallejo, and I'm sure I'm forgetting some.
As I drive around in the little towns of California, I tend to fool myself into thinking that the restaurants I see are all undiscovered treasures. That I'll be able to say to all the girls I'm currently not managing to date that "I know this great Italian place in Healdsburg," and that she'll be all impressed with my knowledge of obscure eateries.
But it's just not true. All these places are terrible.
This week I went to the afore mentioned Italian place in Healdsburg for lunch. I got there at 11:30am, and was a little worried they wouldn't be open yet. Their sign said they opened for lunch at 11am, but their door communicated a certain indisputable lockedness. But after jiggling the handle, the waitress / chef / hostess / girl-still-on-high school-winter-break opened the door and told me I could sit wherever I liked. (She was decked out in the lasted Healdsburg fashions: Pink studded belt, pink shirt, matching pink eye shadow, and expertly crimped hair.)
I wandered through 3 rooms of empty seats and finally settled on a booth near a window in the back. Unfortunately the booth wasn't wild about me sitting there, and the bench tipped up and tried to dump me onto the floor. I chose a different booth.
When presented with the menu, I decided on a chef salad with ranch dressing (the greatest condiment in the universe), and a lemonade.
Let's define some things before I go on.
Chef Salad: A salad containing lettuce, ham, turkey, cheese, and tomatoes. Optional ingredients include mushrooms, carrots, sprouts, and pickled beats.
Lemonade: A translucent yellow drink coming from either a can, a bottle, from squeezing lemons and adding sugar, or from country time brand lemonade powder.
Agreed?
The chef salad that arrived on my table included the following: Lettuce (good), carrots (still on the right track), ham (they sure know how to make a salad), salami (no!), garbanzo beans (seriously, no!), kidney beans (this is now 2 too many beans), 2 pepperincinis (these I like but was not expecting), and NO cheese. Where's my turkey?
Then there was my lemonade. I have never seen something in a glass that opaque which didn't include ice cream as a main ingredient. My theory is that it was made from putting lemon flavored spice drops through a juicer. Then they added a little water so the ice in the glass would have something to float in. Refreshing.
Since I was the only person in the restaurant, the service was still pretty good despite the fact that 5 calls came in during the half hour I sat there, all of which were for the waitress. My favorite call was one where she told the person, "I want to go to Thailand and hug a lemur. Yeah, lemurs are super cute. Or maybe a sloth. Sloths are just so chill."
Instead of being able to explain the wide variety of undiscovered culinary delights in Northern California, I can explain where subways are in San Rafael, San Francisco, Oakland, Napa, American Canyon, Kentfield, Cloverdale, Davis, Sacramento, and Vallejo, and I'm sure I'm forgetting some.
Tuesday, February 01, 2005
For the Curious Ones
Just a short bit about the date.
Mostly it went well, but there were two small snafus.
The first was when I tipped my tea cup back toward my mouth to take a sip not realizing that it wasn't anywhere near my lips. I righted my cup, but not before I dribbled hot tea onto my crotch which ended up feeling neither magic nor minty, as the tea bag had advertised.
The second was kind of a realization. I realized, halfway down the isle at the Value Mart on Mission Street, that this particular portion of the date was a really dumb idea. My original thought was that I would point out all the entertaining knock-off items, and we could bond over the bins of weird crap. But it occurred to me, while pointing out the Herbal Shampoo (written in the same font as Herbal Essence and with a picture of a flower behind it), that our time might be better spent discussing the origin of my Grim Reaper of Napa Valley nickname.
In conclusion, despite my inadvertent best efforts to sabotage the date, it ended up going okay.
Just a short bit about the date.
Mostly it went well, but there were two small snafus.
The first was when I tipped my tea cup back toward my mouth to take a sip not realizing that it wasn't anywhere near my lips. I righted my cup, but not before I dribbled hot tea onto my crotch which ended up feeling neither magic nor minty, as the tea bag had advertised.
The second was kind of a realization. I realized, halfway down the isle at the Value Mart on Mission Street, that this particular portion of the date was a really dumb idea. My original thought was that I would point out all the entertaining knock-off items, and we could bond over the bins of weird crap. But it occurred to me, while pointing out the Herbal Shampoo (written in the same font as Herbal Essence and with a picture of a flower behind it), that our time might be better spent discussing the origin of my Grim Reaper of Napa Valley nickname.
In conclusion, despite my inadvertent best efforts to sabotage the date, it ended up going okay.
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