"She can't buy a pig in a poke."
"What?"
"She can't buy a sow in a bag."
Thursday, August 31, 2006
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
Lonely At The Top (Or, Good Thing I Have A Heart Of Stone)
What sucks:
"Hey! New office. Everyone's jealous."
"Yeah, I love it. It's great."
"I mean, how do they make these decisions?"
"Uh."
"Just...wow. I mean, this is a nice set up. New furniture... And a window."
"Yeah."
"Ok. Well, I'm cool with it. No big deal."
"Yeah."
What rules:
I have a new office. With a window.
"Hey! New office. Everyone's jealous."
"Yeah, I love it. It's great."
"I mean, how do they make these decisions?"
"Uh."
"Just...wow. I mean, this is a nice set up. New furniture... And a window."
"Yeah."
"Ok. Well, I'm cool with it. No big deal."
"Yeah."
What rules:
I have a new office. With a window.
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
Boredom + Google Searches + Emergency Chocolate = Danger
Resistance is growing thin.
Please send help.
And.
If this doesn't make your blood rush just a little, we can't be friends.
Please send help.
And.
If this doesn't make your blood rush just a little, we can't be friends.
Monday, August 28, 2006
For The Record, I Thought It Was A Prop.
Another recounting of public embarassment. This time, not my own.
There I sat at lunch, casually observing passers-by in that awkward education conference way: quiet and respectful without making eye contact that might lead into a conversation. Creamsicle* padded down the hall chatting into her cell phone. The conversation sounded confidential, but pleasant enough.
I saw her see the child-sized chair.
I was skeptical that it would hold her.
And then....
Crack. Fall. Still on phone. Mumble. Vacate.
When I picked the pieces up after she had left, I found that the plastic chair was without bolts. As if someone had puzzled it together for just such a careless visitor.
It wasn't me.
Seriously.
But if I were going to do something like that, I would have left a video camera running and brought someone attractive to have her sign a media release.
*I do not know her name, but she wore orange and white. And I was eating.
There I sat at lunch, casually observing passers-by in that awkward education conference way: quiet and respectful without making eye contact that might lead into a conversation. Creamsicle* padded down the hall chatting into her cell phone. The conversation sounded confidential, but pleasant enough.
I saw her see the child-sized chair.
I was skeptical that it would hold her.
And then....
Crack. Fall. Still on phone. Mumble. Vacate.
When I picked the pieces up after she had left, I found that the plastic chair was without bolts. As if someone had puzzled it together for just such a careless visitor.
It wasn't me.
Seriously.
But if I were going to do something like that, I would have left a video camera running and brought someone attractive to have her sign a media release.
*I do not know her name, but she wore orange and white. And I was eating.
Friday, August 25, 2006
Soggy Days, Stoppard Plays, Blank Verse, Pudding
11 am:
pudding
12 pm:
In honor of the natural gloomy light pouring in the window, I've put on only one small light in my office.
"You do have another light switch. It's right here."
"I know. I like it like this. I feel cozy."
"Uh huh."
I can almost guarantee that I would be working better right now in sweatpants with a fleece blanket.
A wide field of construction dirt is turning into a rainy mudriver outside. Galoshes left at home yet again. Dammit. Why did I not anticipate a Wonka creation?!
12 am:
Saw Stoppard's The Real Thing last night and have been haunted by pithy material all day. Alas, the more I try to remember, the less I can. Panic! At The Laptop. If only there had been a line to remind me about bringing galoshes to work I could have remembered text and danced in acid rain.
pudding
12 pm:
In honor of the natural gloomy light pouring in the window, I've put on only one small light in my office.
"You do have another light switch. It's right here."
"I know. I like it like this. I feel cozy."
"Uh huh."
I can almost guarantee that I would be working better right now in sweatpants with a fleece blanket.
A wide field of construction dirt is turning into a rainy mudriver outside. Galoshes left at home yet again. Dammit. Why did I not anticipate a Wonka creation?!
12 am:
Saw Stoppard's The Real Thing last night and have been haunted by pithy material all day. Alas, the more I try to remember, the less I can. Panic! At The Laptop. If only there had been a line to remind me about bringing galoshes to work I could have remembered text and danced in acid rain.
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
I Used Occam's Razor For A Close Shave
This morning NPR featured a story about Mr. Wang's Button Factory. His tiny town is responsible for 60% of the world's buttons. Buttons Are His Destiny.
What it must feel like to have purpose? Why am I worried about Purpose in August? This ennui should stay in the storage closet until winter like my warm clothes.
I realize that it has been months since former professor and oft quoted* Hardy wrote, asking me about my goals and still I have none.
So I went to Anthropologie and met Rin for ice cream.
The simplest explanation is always the best.
I could have told you, too, about my lackluster day during which I worked for three hours editing a video to lose it all in the saving process. But I'm afraid you might learn that I'm dull-brained enough to permanently delete items that I needed. It shouldn't be called the "Recycle Bin" if it means "Trash. Don't Put Anything In Here If You Expect To See It Again."
*"A fast-rolling turd smells less."
"Pontiac, Grand Am. We Build Excitement."
"Would you like to hear the duck call? It goes.... here, ducky, ducky."
What it must feel like to have purpose? Why am I worried about Purpose in August? This ennui should stay in the storage closet until winter like my warm clothes.
I realize that it has been months since former professor and oft quoted* Hardy wrote, asking me about my goals and still I have none.
So I went to Anthropologie and met Rin for ice cream.
The simplest explanation is always the best.
I could have told you, too, about my lackluster day during which I worked for three hours editing a video to lose it all in the saving process. But I'm afraid you might learn that I'm dull-brained enough to permanently delete items that I needed. It shouldn't be called the "Recycle Bin" if it means "Trash. Don't Put Anything In Here If You Expect To See It Again."
*"A fast-rolling turd smells less."
"Pontiac, Grand Am. We Build Excitement."
"Would you like to hear the duck call? It goes.... here, ducky, ducky."
Monday, August 21, 2006
Sunday, August 20, 2006
Betty White Goes Blue
I dropped a lens cap yesterday at a wedding. Made a big sound when it fell from the balcony during a break in the music. No one was hurt, but when Matt looked back at me I ripped into him like whodoyouthinkyouarethatshitwasaccidentalIwillkillyouifyoudon'tstoplaughing. After which I was ready to cry.
Imagine being William Shatner.
In fact, imagine being anyone in the audience, or on stage, or the camera crew. Anyone in the venue is subject to public humiliation. And an alarming number of gay jokes.
And Farah Fawcett's bra strap.
Imagine being William Shatner.
In fact, imagine being anyone in the audience, or on stage, or the camera crew. Anyone in the venue is subject to public humiliation. And an alarming number of gay jokes.
And Farah Fawcett's bra strap.
Thursday, August 17, 2006
Coming to You Live From the Corner of My Couch
More failed endeavors:
My project sits abandoned on the kitchen table.
Additionally, if it were New Year's, I'd resolve not to buy things that don't fit with the assumption that guilt will move me to work toward them as a goal. Ass! Dammit! Haha. Both of those are appropriate exclamations!
As it stands, my real resolution is still in full effect.
Consider that a successful endeavor.
- a change purse
My project sits abandoned on the kitchen table.
- artichoke pasta
- fitting into my jeans
Additionally, if it were New Year's, I'd resolve not to buy things that don't fit with the assumption that guilt will move me to work toward them as a goal. Ass! Dammit! Haha. Both of those are appropriate exclamations!
As it stands, my real resolution is still in full effect.
Consider that a successful endeavor.
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
File under: Humanitarian and Deeds, Good
Hark! The sweet sound of locusts and Craigslist in the summer.
During these last few days of freedom before my regular work resumes, I spend hours surfing over losts and founds, apartments, want ads.
Thought I should pass that along.
During these last few days of freedom before my regular work resumes, I spend hours surfing over losts and founds, apartments, want ads.
Thought I should pass that along.
Saturday, August 12, 2006
Countercultural Cake: Subterfuge
Disclaimer: Matt is Mexico Sick. He and anyone light of stomach should not proceed to the pictures. And happy anniversary, Dear. Hope you're done puking.
Now on to: Poppa's birthday, A Gehry Cake in Pictures
At about 9 am I went for a walk feeling extraordinarily ambitious to be out so early on a Saturday morning.
Ok, it was 9:30.
Ok, it was 10.
Damn!
When I returned home the supplies were laid out before me to make the Most Delicious DadBirthday Birthday Cake Ever. No matter that I couldn't locate the round pans; I laugh in the face of circular confections! I could use a rectangle. And one better: I could sculpt the cake into a new form!
A tower! Yes, a birthday tower!
I cut the cooling cake.
As I piled the pieces, family members began to suspect that I did not have a plan.
The sections got smaller and smaller.
"But there is frosting," I said, "to hold it together. Seriously, I've got an idea."
I did not have an idea. Or rather, this was not it:
Soon and very soon it became this:
By and by, my father stopped checking in on it. Carly's new boyfriend would be coming for the celebration. More shame on the family's tarnished culinary name? She jailed herself in fear:
What now? A new cake? There simply was not time. A time warp? There simply was not a car to get us there and back. A springform pan, some ice cream, and a Cold Stone ambition? It could not fail.
Wait. It could?
But it looks so...
Oh. I see.
But it tastes so...
I could always pitch the idea to Quaker Warmish Oatmeal Packets-of-Sickening-Liquid-y Flavor.
Well. One person's birthday is another person's opportunity to create something disgusting so that in the future they will never be entrusted with important tasks again.
Now on to: Poppa's birthday, A Gehry Cake in Pictures
At about 9 am I went for a walk feeling extraordinarily ambitious to be out so early on a Saturday morning.
Ok, it was 9:30.
Ok, it was 10.
Damn!
When I returned home the supplies were laid out before me to make the Most Delicious DadBirthday Birthday Cake Ever. No matter that I couldn't locate the round pans; I laugh in the face of circular confections! I could use a rectangle. And one better: I could sculpt the cake into a new form!
A tower! Yes, a birthday tower!
I cut the cooling cake.
As I piled the pieces, family members began to suspect that I did not have a plan.
The sections got smaller and smaller.
"But there is frosting," I said, "to hold it together. Seriously, I've got an idea."
I did not have an idea. Or rather, this was not it:
Soon and very soon it became this:
By and by, my father stopped checking in on it. Carly's new boyfriend would be coming for the celebration. More shame on the family's tarnished culinary name? She jailed herself in fear:
What now? A new cake? There simply was not time. A time warp? There simply was not a car to get us there and back. A springform pan, some ice cream, and a Cold Stone ambition? It could not fail.
Wait. It could?
But it looks so...
Oh. I see.
But it tastes so...
I could always pitch the idea to Quaker Warmish Oatmeal Packets-of-Sickening-Liquid-y Flavor.
Well. One person's birthday is another person's opportunity to create something disgusting so that in the future they will never be entrusted with important tasks again.
Thursday, August 10, 2006
Say You Want a Revolution, Well, You Know
Hey, everybody, it´s time for a meeting!!!
In the town square.
With bats.
What?
Surprise! We´re in a protest zone.
Yeah. Yesterday, Matt was in photojournalist heaven when the crowds in the city center decided to chant and congregate. The video cameras captured speakers pleading with their fellow Oaxacans for non-violence. Matt snuck up there like AP and sniped a couple of shots before he determined his real calling: Latin American Protest Photographer.
Great.
Because my real calling is Professional Worrywart/Professional Bacterial Infected-er.
In the town square.
With bats.
What?
Surprise! We´re in a protest zone.
Yeah. Yesterday, Matt was in photojournalist heaven when the crowds in the city center decided to chant and congregate. The video cameras captured speakers pleading with their fellow Oaxacans for non-violence. Matt snuck up there like AP and sniped a couple of shots before he determined his real calling: Latin American Protest Photographer.
Great.
Because my real calling is Professional Worrywart/Professional Bacterial Infected-er.
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
Poetry Night at La Nueva Babel
By way of an appendage to the last entry, because Matt thinks I misrepresented our conversation a little. I say, poetic license; you say, potahto.
It was not so much, ¨Will you marry me?¨as it was, ¨Should we get married?¨
And the answer was no. For both of us. He reminded me of that as well.
Flare for the dramatic.
Someone should go check on my mom, too, please. Nothing to see here, Mom.
We´re back in Oaxaca now for three days and not ten minutes ago, far away from a nudie beach, we passed a man in the street sleeping pantsless. At 2 pm.
I´m trying to incorporate all of these elements into an appropriately self-effacing, rudimentary Spanish poem for tonight. It´s open mic at the bar down the street. So far I´ve got:
Borracho.
Dos horas de la tarde.
Yo
no
soy.
Thank you, thank you. Buenas noches.
It was not so much, ¨Will you marry me?¨as it was, ¨Should we get married?¨
And the answer was no. For both of us. He reminded me of that as well.
Flare for the dramatic.
Someone should go check on my mom, too, please. Nothing to see here, Mom.
We´re back in Oaxaca now for three days and not ten minutes ago, far away from a nudie beach, we passed a man in the street sleeping pantsless. At 2 pm.
I´m trying to incorporate all of these elements into an appropriately self-effacing, rudimentary Spanish poem for tonight. It´s open mic at the bar down the street. So far I´ve got:
Borracho.
Dos horas de la tarde.
Yo
no
soy.
Thank you, thank you. Buenas noches.
Monday, August 07, 2006
Mexico by the Numb3rs (that one was for my dad who watches that weird show on CBS with the guy who killed Kellie Martin's character on ER)
Today we joined a nudist colony. I will spare you the Sharpie Art.
Just kidding.
I proposed marriage and Matt said no.
Just kidding again.
Wait, that wasn't a joke.
Circumstances change. We find out that people won't be around forever (as if it is some great mystery...What? People will be born and they will die? What is this crap?) And not that it's not crap. It is. It just makes you realize that if you had a year left and you wanted to get some shit done, you do it. And so.
It was the first of what I hope to call My Stream of Marriage Proposal Rejections Parts I-III.
After 3 I'm done being rejected. Third time's a... I'm Not Going To Live Through Another Rejection Even If I Was A Little Sauced, Because I Do Love You and I Don't Care Who Knows It.
Ahem.
In other news, we did go to a nude beach. It was mostly non-nude. But there were a daring five. (That's eight boobies and one...gentleman without trousers, for those of you keeping track). See how I distract you with body parts from the fact that something in my personal life is now public?
Look! Zebras! Mystifying stripes!
Just kidding.
I proposed marriage and Matt said no.
Just kidding again.
Wait, that wasn't a joke.
Circumstances change. We find out that people won't be around forever (as if it is some great mystery...What? People will be born and they will die? What is this crap?) And not that it's not crap. It is. It just makes you realize that if you had a year left and you wanted to get some shit done, you do it. And so.
It was the first of what I hope to call My Stream of Marriage Proposal Rejections Parts I-III.
After 3 I'm done being rejected. Third time's a... I'm Not Going To Live Through Another Rejection Even If I Was A Little Sauced, Because I Do Love You and I Don't Care Who Knows It.
Ahem.
In other news, we did go to a nude beach. It was mostly non-nude. But there were a daring five. (That's eight boobies and one...gentleman without trousers, for those of you keeping track). See how I distract you with body parts from the fact that something in my personal life is now public?
Look! Zebras! Mystifying stripes!
Saturday, August 05, 2006
Internet Cafe With An Ocean View (If You Bring A Picture Of An Ocean In With You)
While I waited to use the interwebs, here in Huatulco, I picked up a little light reading. The Sports Illustrated College Basketball issue of 1996-97 lists Chauncey Billups as one to watch. So look out for him. 10 years ago.
I imagine that Huatulco is like Myrtle Beach. If in Myrtle Beach people harass you about buying trinkets and local flavor is a guy saying,"Hey, Man. Where you from?"
Uh...shut up.
So instead of sweating out the humidity on beach front property, we called our parents on analog roam (thank you, technology) and decided to see a movie. I chose Pirates of the Carribean, part 2.
Matt chose: Tokyo Sinks.
We will regroup after and write reviews.
In Spanish, of course.
I imagine that Huatulco is like Myrtle Beach. If in Myrtle Beach people harass you about buying trinkets and local flavor is a guy saying,"Hey, Man. Where you from?"
Uh...shut up.
So instead of sweating out the humidity on beach front property, we called our parents on analog roam (thank you, technology) and decided to see a movie. I chose Pirates of the Carribean, part 2.
Matt chose: Tokyo Sinks.
We will regroup after and write reviews.
In Spanish, of course.
Friday, August 04, 2006
I´ll Take A Beer With My Politics, Please
Old Man in Mitla: Que piensas de la guerra con Israel y...
(hic)
OMIM: Suisse...
(hic)
OMIM: Suisse?
Matt: Lebanon?
(hic)
OMIM: Suisse...
(hic)
OMIM: Suisse?
Matt: Lebanon?
Thursday, August 03, 2006
Brain: Cerrado For Cleaning
My rate of failed to successful Spanish: 809 to 1.
For shame, for shame.
I walked away from a perfectly lovely though completely unnecessary* top today in the zocalo because Matt wouldn´t help me ask the quiet lady how much it was. She was not impressed.
Or maybe she was irritated to be nursing a child well over two years. Who can say?
*Luggage arrived yesterday late afternoon and as I pulled it up the stairs, ramp, stairs, ramp, stairs into our dwelling I realized I had overzealously overpacked.
For shame, for shame.
I walked away from a perfectly lovely though completely unnecessary* top today in the zocalo because Matt wouldn´t help me ask the quiet lady how much it was. She was not impressed.
Or maybe she was irritated to be nursing a child well over two years. Who can say?
*Luggage arrived yesterday late afternoon and as I pulled it up the stairs, ramp, stairs, ramp, stairs into our dwelling I realized I had overzealously overpacked.
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
Should Have Packed Deodorant In My Carry On
Huevos rancheros, everybody!
We´re here.
Unfortunately, our luggage decided not to join us. Thank you, Continental. You knew it would only spoil us to have toothbrushes.
I´d also like to send a shout out to my man, Seguridad 073422, for offering to send our bags here for free, (if and) when they are found.
If by chance our valises decided to ship themselves back home, let them know that they can find us by using the family whistle.
We´re here.
Unfortunately, our luggage decided not to join us. Thank you, Continental. You knew it would only spoil us to have toothbrushes.
I´d also like to send a shout out to my man, Seguridad 073422, for offering to send our bags here for free, (if and) when they are found.
If by chance our valises decided to ship themselves back home, let them know that they can find us by using the family whistle.
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