Sunday, March 30, 2008
If you're even remotely interested in what caused the mortgage crisis, stop over at Angelos' place and read this
. Really, it's interesting, and a faster read than it looks like. I swear.
posted by somewaterytart | 6:53 PM | (6 comments) |
Call Me Unethical, But
Call me unethical, but if the Starbucks baristas don't know that the Sunday New York Times
costs $5 and not $1.25, I'm
certainly not going to be the one to correct them.
Also, it should be noted that the NYT
's book review is invariably dull. It's all about the New York Review of Books.
posted by somewaterytart | 5:48 PM | (10 comments) |
Saturday, March 29, 2008
The Large Hadron Collider Will Eat Your Children...No, Seriously.
More specifically, it could create a black hole which will proceed to eat you and your children and your shoes and Africa and the moon and, well, everything. Don't believe it? Just ask these two gentlemen,
who have cleverly saved time for doomsday-related litigation by not actually becoming physicists. I mean, graduate school is tedious. And you show me one career scientist who has time for court dates; most of them barely shower.
According to the plaintiffs, the supercollider located at CERN
should be prevented from operating until further safety reports have been made, due to the possibility of a universe-ending result of the ensuing proton-smashings. I've heard mention of such hypotheses before, but now that there's a lawsuit attached, I'm inclined to take them more seriously. After all, I make no attempt to deny my emotional attachment to matter. Everyone I know is made of it. And if you ceased to exist tomorrow, wouldn't you be pissed off? I know I would.
Don't let my pleasingly variegated appearance fool you.
Sidenote: Randall Monroe
posted by somewaterytart | 4:22 PM | (3 comments) |
Friday, March 28, 2008
This is amazing.
: I went to the doctor and he thinks there's something wrong with my prostate so he gave me two prescription drugs. It's weird because I've never taken a drug before. I didn't even know how it works. I was like, you just take this paper and give it to the pharmacist, and they know what to do with it?Me
: You've never taken prescription medicine before?Roommate
: Didn't you get sick when you were a kid? Ear infections? Strep throat?Roommate
: I took a Tylenol once when I was two. Me
: Did your sister ever get sick?Roommate
: I don't know. I try not to pay too much attention to her.
posted by somewaterytart | 8:20 PM | (19 comments) |
Ohhhh. I love humanism and irony!
I'm almost a third of the way through Thomas Mann's The Magic Mountain
. It's pretty funny, now that I've adapted to Mann's style and gotten used his super-ironic Teutonic humor. The best part was when I finally decided that the ironic language used to describe the protagonist, Hans Castorp, and the implied significance of the humanist lectures of the scholar Herr Settembrini, meant that the omniscient narrator thinks Castorp's a dolt and Settembrini is the voice of wisdom. And when I realized that, I was like, ohhhh. I love
humanism and irony! And then I was relieved, because if I was going to be asked to take that tight-ass Castorp dipshit seriously, it was going to be a long 800 pages.
posted by somewaterytart | 8:09 PM | (1 comments) |
Do you ever have one of those days where your hair looks great and your makeup went on perfectly, and you just look hot for some reason? I'm having one of those days. Sean, you are in Las Vegas, missing my hot day.
posted by somewaterytart | 6:28 PM | (6 comments) |
Friday Advice Column
How do I get the curry color/smell out of this wooden spoon? Wednesday night's yellow vegetable stew has resulted in a formidably tenacious spicy quality and, alas, it is no longer the wooden spoon I once loved. Please help.
-Turmeric Tricked in San Diego
posted by somewaterytart | 12:12 AM | (17 comments) |
Thursday, March 27, 2008
The Battle of Wits Between Human and Feline: Dialogues
WHAT IS SO INTERESTING ABOUT THE KITCHEN COUNTER THAT YOU HAVE TO BE UP THERE ALL THE FRICKING TIME?! Maggie:
You know you're fat. I know you're fat. But are you so fat that you can't get your whole body in the litter box? Can't you see that it's ending up on the floor? Maggie:
It's 3 AM. I am sleeping. I don't know what you want. Just stop...I'll do anything. Maggie:
She is totally winning.
posted by somewaterytart | 11:10 PM | (5 comments) |
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
By Bob Staake.
Ciara just climbed up into my lap, saw this picture, and said "that's Farmer McPhee!
He's silly. Silly-bo-billy. Red lemon red lemon tree." She is so great.
posted by somewaterytart | 9:29 AM | (4 comments) |
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Free Beer Spray
I went to my favorite Mexican restaurant after work today, and while I was sitting at the bar having a beer, the bartender accidentally sprayed beer in my face from one of the taps. We laughed and I mopped myself up. Then he gave me my beers for free. And I'm like, getting a little beer sprayed in my face in exchange for two free beers? Totally worth it.
posted by somewaterytart | 8:51 PM | (12 comments) |
Monday, March 24, 2008
Upon arriving at work this morning:Dad
: "Ciara, tell JoJo why you can't go to music class today. Tell her what the teacher has."Ciara:
[grins, rolls around on bed]Dad:
C'mon, Ciara. Tell her what she has.
What does she have? Dad:
An upper respiratory infection.Mom:
[from bathroom, laughing] She's not a performing monkey!Dad:
got her to say the whole thing.
posted by somewaterytart | 10:02 PM | (3 comments) |
Mid-Yawn Cat Blogging
How dare you photograph me at my most vulnerable.
posted by somewaterytart | 6:52 PM | (4 comments) |
Friday, March 21, 2008
4 x 4
4 Jobs I have had:
Cashier at bookstore, receptionist at law firm, food runner at restaurant, driver/mother's helper to woman with epilepsy. 4 TV shows I watch:
Best Week Ever, LOST, The Real Housewives of New York City, The Soup.
4 Places I have been: Ipoh
, Park Slope.4 Foods I like:
Enchiladas, spinach lasagna, yellow curry, Trader Joe's carrot muffins.
I tag Toast.
posted by somewaterytart | 6:24 PM | (3 comments) |
Quote of the Week
Ciara, when we were making rhymes while I changed her diaper:
"Man, ban, san, dan, ban, crayon, credit card, money, currency!"
Her mom tells me she learned 'currency' from an alphabet book they haven't read in months. And that she once used it at the bank, saying loudly, "Mommy, are you going to get some currency?
" Apparently the tellers were shocked. I would have liked to see that.
posted by somewaterytart | 6:05 PM | (6 comments) |
Thursday, March 20, 2008
The Red Lemon
I have to share with you my new favorite children's book author, Bob Staake. I discovered him in a home furnishings store, of all places. They had some books for sale in the kids' area, and I thought The Red Lemon
looked cute, so I bought it for Ciara. We found some more of his books at the library, and now we're hooked. His pictures are really something; warm and intelligent at once, not one-dimensional like some children's book illustrations, or busy and crude like many others. I knew I'd seen his stuff before, and I think you have, too. He's done New Yorker
covers, cartoons, newspaper illustrations, etc. Anyway, I just love him.
We're also enjoying Beatrix Potter, Arnold Lobel
, and Lillian Hoban
, all of whom I read repeatedly as a child. And the memories that come flooding compress 20 years instantly. I can hear
my dad's voice when I open Bartholomew and the Oobleck
. And I know why he agreed to read it over and over; it's pretty good.
I mean, do you remember Frog and Toad, and their ambiguously gay adventures, and how much they ruled? Tell me about your children's books memories. And tell me I'm not the only one who's into this stuff.
posted by somewaterytart | 7:24 PM | (14 comments) |
Ways to Ruin Your Pants
Here's a good one: Get your oil changed. I don't know how it happened, but I came out of that place with black grease on the cuffs of my new light-gray slacks. I did use the bathroom; perhaps they brushed the floor. Or I touched the wall. Either way, to the dry cleaners with me. The overpriced dry cleaners who take my money.
posted by somewaterytart | 2:00 PM | (4 comments) |
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
And now, for something completely different
I have decided, for reasons of finance and variety, to take on a part-time job. Summers with Ciara are flexible, as her mom is a teacher and isn't working, so I'm going to spice up my schedule and improve my resume. Sound good? I think it sounds good. So I have begun training at a teaching center for kids (and some adults) with dyslexia, high-functioning autism, and other cognitive processing issues. It came as a complete surprise that the director offered me the job, as I have no training in the area. But her approach requires a couple months of ground-up training, so she takes on people with the potential to learn but not necessarily a professional or educational background. Which, apparently, is me! It's a very small center, the people who work there are insanely cool and personable, and of course as we all know, I enjoy the young peoples.
The underlying concept of this teaching process is that of phonemic awareness
. I had heard of it, but had no idea what it meant. Basically it means 'the ability to separate words into sounds.' Dyslexic people don't have that, and as a result, reading ranges from difficult to impossible. My goal will be to re-train these kids' brains so that they develop it. Pretty cool, huh?
posted by somewaterytart | 11:13 AM | (10 comments) |
Today marks the 5-year anniversary of the beginning of the war in Iraq. This administration has lied to us, and we've paid for it, with our money and our reputation. No country that condones torture should hold itself up as a moral light unto the world. A country that suspends habeus corpus for criminal suspects forfeits its right to preach to others about justice. People are dead, others are displaced under threat of death, our international credibility is shot, and despite whatever rhetoric you've heard about the "surge," bombings and deaths are up since January. Oh, and you can be sure there are still Americans who believe that Iraq attacked us on 9/11. Happy anniversary.
posted by somewaterytart | 10:09 AM | (5 comments) |
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Pardon the interruption, my esteemed colleagues. I have recently stumbled (or jogged, I should say) upon an as-yet unclassified species of proto-human during my daily exercise. For your scholarly consideration, I present:
Australopithecus auto-vociferous: This atavistic Hominid can be found within a motorized vehicle. He is usually accompanied by his peers, and under the influence of a tenacious pack mentality. He distinguishes himself through (often barely intelligible) stentorian vocalizations directed toward any and all females found to be publicly exercising. It is the hypothesis of this researcher that A. auto-vociferus engages in said activity in response to a perceived self-weakness.
Inter-species interactions: Vocal harassment of the Homo sapiens female causes said female to startle and lose her concentration, become tense and self-conscious, and possibly feel physically threatened.
Intra-species interactions: Frequent high-fiving.
Research goals: Specimen should be advised to suck it, and then studied for the good of society.
Further input regarding the motivations underlying the behavior of A. auto-vociferous
will be welcomed, and possibly footnoted in future publications.
posted by somewaterytart | 1:30 PM | (7 comments) |
Monday, March 17, 2008
Found at Kona's place.
First, the rules:
1. You have to post the rules before you give your answers.
2. You must list one fact about yourself beginning with each letter of your middle name. (If you don’t have a middle name, use your maiden name or your mother’s maiden name).
3. At the end of your blog post, you need to tag one person (or blogger of another species) for each letter of your middle name. (Be sure to leave them a comment telling them they’ve been tagged.)
Who writes these meme rules? I believe they are silly and anal. And that tagging process sounds excessively process-like.S
is for Spicy, as that's how I like my food. I put hot sauce or crushed peppers on almost everything.U
is for Undressed, because the first thing I do when I walk in the door is kick off my shoes and change into lounge-y clothes. And because I change my clothes 3-4 times per day.S
is for Sparkly, because that's how I like my bathroom: Sparkly fresh and bleached clean. And no mirror spots.A
is for Ain't Ciara a Sweetie? I believe we can agree that she is. She and her mom are away visiting family this week, and I miss the wee grommet. N
is for Nachos. With jalapenos and Tapatio.
On second thought, I tag Chemist.
posted by somewaterytart | 10:54 PM | (14 comments) |
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Happy St. Patrick's Day
I'll tell you for what it is worth
That today is the day of my birth.
But it's also Saint Pat's
And we can't forget that!
Here's wishing you love, luck, and mirth.
I did the partying thing on Saturday night and had an absolute blast, so today seems a bit superfluous in terms of self-celebration. So I will take this opportunity to declare my love for everybody, as follows: Thank you to my wonderful girlfriends and brother for coming down to Ocean Beach, the land of rowdy dive bars, and sharing many pints of Harp and Guinness with me. And thank you especially to those of you who told the band to sing "Happy Birthday Joanna Big-Boobs" to the entire bar. To Sean, too, who is entirely too good to me. And to my mom and dad, who always know how to make me feel special and loved. And to all you bitchez, who keep coming here no matter how many dirty words I use. And despite my inordinate love of cat photos. I like my bloggy friends, I do.
posted by somewaterytart | 5:46 PM | (12 comments) |
Thursday, March 13, 2008
It was darned about time.
It was darned about time to change my "author photo." And so I did, et viola! I believe this to be a more accurate representation than the previous photo. Even though Chemist says my smile looks fake. Which may or may not be true.
posted by somewaterytart | 8:39 PM | (17 comments) |
Question of the Week
Who is your favorite artist to sing along to?
Mine is Aimee Mann. My "range" (which is not to suggest that I can sing, as I cannot) is close to hers, if a bit less husky, and her passion and intelligence are audible, which makes it way more fun. And also, I love her. My problem with a lot of vocal music is that the singers don't sound like they mean
it. A band can have catchy songs that I like, but I can't fall in love with that. And I prefer to fall deeply in love. You know how some people look dead behind the eyes? I believe some people sound dead behind the voice.
Speaking of dead behind the voice, you know who is a perfect example of that? The lead singer of the Shins. The music's not bad, but he sounds emotionally absent and entirely unconvinced of himself. He's got some 'splaining to do, if you ask me.
posted by somewaterytart | 6:47 PM | (10 comments) |
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Last Night I Watched Reality Television.
Okay, so last night I watched The Real Housewives of New York City
. Well, not the whole episode. I watched 25 minutes and couldn't take it anymore, and then today I watched some clips I found online. But the point is, I've got the summary right here, so you don't have to bother. Because I'm telling you right now: this is really, really bad.
First, let's meet the "housewives," and let us not question Bravo's liberal application of said terminology.
LuAnne (center) married into Countess status, thus making her the Alpha dog of this mongrel pack. She is utterly without humility or humor. She refers to her husband, without irony, as "the Count." She's had enough Botox to kill a lesser being. This woman will eat your children.
Jill (second from left) is an unabashed social climber who thinks she's important because she went to a gallery opening once. Her family values are revealed as she discusses sending her 14-year-old daughter away to a "detox center" for a week of weight-loss. Of course, one week of carrot juice and laxatives won't result in anything but loss of water weight, and no teenager is going to sustain that kind of diet when the rest of her friends are eating Doritos and pizza. Which is to say nothing of the ensuing eating disorders and years of therapy. But Jill has a new purse. Look! It is shiny.
Alex(right) may or may not have eaten solid food in the last twelve years. Her husband doesn't allow her to shop for clothes alone, and that's how they ended up with matching thong bathing suits. She is American and he is Australian, but a shared cultural self-loathing of mysterious origins has turned them into rabid Francophiles. Together they vacation in the French-owned West Indies, and have two children with French names, and employ a French nanny, who douses the children in beurre blanc twice per day to prevent any unnecessary Americanization.
Ramona (left) isn't sure what you mean by "crass and immature," but she's pretty sure she didn't see you in the Hamptons last summer.
Bethany (second from right) is unmarried, without children, and on the show merely to promote her career as a healthy chef. She made you this plate of raw sprouted elephant grass. Please love her.
There are no real comparisons here to The Real Housewives of Orange County. I grew up in south Orange County; I know those women with the big cars and the breasts. And I know of whence I speak when I assure you that a group of over-tanned shopping addicts have nothing on the wannabe elite, the social hangers-on of Manhattan, in terms of objectionable behavior. The New Yorkers on display here aren't just rich; they're violently greedy. They aren't just self-conscious; they're painfully insecure. They aren't just self-involved; they're actually justifying social climbing to themselves, as though it's a competitive sport, an occupation, a reasonable way of life. And for that, we can only pity them, because real socialites don't need to go on TV to convince everyone how great they are. But it is for precisely this reason that nobody will take it seriously, and thus the possible threat to our collective intelligence is negligible. To paraphrase the Coen brothers, don't worry. These women are cowards. Stay tuned for further updates. If I watch it again. Which I may not. I have to go wash my brain now.
posted by somewaterytart | 2:20 PM | (9 comments) |
Easy Healthy Tasty Dinner
Broiled tilapia fillets:
-Brush with olive oil, sprinkle salt and pepper
-Rub a little butter on
-Broil on high 5 minutes (preheat 15)
-Top with cilantro and salsa (I used Trader Joe's 3 pepper salsa)
I made these last night, paired with salad, spicy flax seed chips and hummus on the side. The whole dinner took 10 minutes, and it was delicious. Tilapia is cheap, too. Wheee!
posted by somewaterytart | 8:48 AM | (11 comments) |
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Happy Birthday to the Octopus
[From this morning]: Ciara is under the dining room table, talking to the legs. Apparently their splayed-out shape reminds her of octopus tentacles. First she informed me in a whisper that "he's shy." I told her to be nice to him and maybe he'll open up. So she sang "Happy Birthday" to him. I mean, everyone knows sea creatures enjoy the birthday song.
[Currently]: We went to the library today for Irish music. The performer had an accordian, tin flute, violin, guitar, and mandolin. And tap shoes. She was good, if a little mumbly into the microphone; not enough e-nun-ci-aaaaa-tion, and I could tell the kids had no idea what she was saying half the time. She taught the kids a jig, which they interpreted as 'just jump up and down a lot,' which they did. Especially Ciara, in her shamrock socks and "The Leprechaun Made Me Do It" baseball tee. She was killing me with the cuteness.
Speaking of The Most Important Holiday of the Year, I picked up some Murphy's Stout at Trader Joe's today (they don't carry Guinness) and I'm looking forward to pairing it with a truffle. It has a widget, so it'll be good, I believe. And by the way, polish up your rhymes, because my annual limerick challenge is coming up. And I want to see performance, people!
posted by somewaterytart | 8:24 AM | (0 comments) |
Have you heard? Eliot Spitzer is a creep.
Turns out New York State's women's rights-championing, corruption-reforming top official is also a total slimebag who launders money and cheats on his wife! Then he claims that it's "a private matter," which is just plain silly; he's an elected official who's breaking state and federal laws and exposing himself as a hypocrite on several fronts, especially since he proudly prosecuted prostitution rings himself as an attorney general. Dude, humble yourself before your public. Jeez.
posted by somewaterytart | 8:16 AM | (8 comments) |
Just now while driving to work I was listening to "The Jeff and Jer Show," inane but mostly enjoyable drive-time radio, and one of the hosts was talking about her finger, which had been bothering her for a few days. It started as a little sore, then the whole finger began to swell and ache, and now the sore has turned black. Clearly something she should have looked at, right? Well, this woman is some kind of moron, so instead she comes to work and describes it on the radio. So people start calling in, and they're all telling her it's MRSA (multiple drug-resistant staph) and not something to mess around with; you can die from it, you may need emergency surgery, my husband was on an IV for 2 weeks, etc. And her response is, "but it's just a finger! You don't go to the ER for a finger! La la la I'm an idiot." So finally the other hosts convince her to leave right away for the hospital.
Anyway, I get to work and decide to read up on MRSA before Ciara wakes up, and I come to some photos, and I'm looking at them, and I start to feel this weird burning in my chest. And I realize, oh, I'm going to be sick. I can't remember the last time a photo alone gave me acid reflux. So, umm, fair warning. But if ever your skin begins to turn black
, don't be a flippin' moron. Please.
posted by somewaterytart | 7:28 AM | (5 comments) |
Monday, March 10, 2008
Shut Up, Maureen Dowd
Part wev in an Ongoing Series by Liss and me, which I named here, about the World's Most Obnoxious Feminist Concern TrollTM.
Maureen Dowd's Sunday column, "The Monster Mash
," contains the usual partially coherent mishmash of topical metaphors and borderline obsessive Clinton-hating, plenty to merit much up-shutting if she should so choose. But her latest ramblings employ a vocabulary that strikes me as suspiciously old-timey:
Only after last week’s reversals did the Obama camp raise a louder ruckus about her tax returns...Privately, his people conceded that he hadn’t been as fierce about winning as Hillary, once more playing rope-a-dope.
Ruckus? Rope-a-dope? Perhaps these atavistic turns of phrase are merely linguistic artifacts surfacing from the depths of the collective unconscious. Or could she be in cahoots with Mr. Benjamin
? Before you call me unreasonable, consider how our favorite yellow journalist would have enjoyed a rousing anti-suffragist rally. And some might say she'd look rather convincing in a Victorian era kepi. I'm just saying.
Come to a box social!
posted by somewaterytart | 9:15 PM | (9 comments) |
Death to this cup, and to many other small objects as well.
Sean ate a Minstrel Boy truffle after dinner, and for the last twenty minutes Maggie has been going nuts
over the empty paper cup. Tossing it in the air, chewing it, sniffing it, stalking and attacking it. It's possible he puts catnip in them.
posted by somewaterytart | 9:02 PM | (8 comments) |
Saturday, March 08, 2008
Quote of the week
My roommate, on why he would never live in the Southeastern Californian deserts:
"It seems like a nice place to live, except I wouldn't want Mexicans crawling through my backyard all the time."
My response: "What, you don't want them stealing your radishes, Mr. McGregor?"
Him: "They probably would. They go in people's backyards and eat their food."
I mean, everybody knows that hispanic peoples enjoy home-grown vegetable goods.
posted by somewaterytart | 8:35 PM | (22 comments) |
Friday, March 07, 2008
Ew ew ew.
I went for a walk/stair run at the beach just now, and while I was changing my shoes in the parking lot afterwards, got an earful of a truly disgusting conversation between three men concerning their desire to have sex with a girl, maybe 16 years old, who I'd noticed sitting on a towel at the bottom of the access steps. She was very pretty, but clearly a couple birthdays from the age of consent. One of the guys, after proclaiming his love of high school girls, mentioned that his own 20-year reunion was coming up. Dude? That's just wrong. And, sadly, not at all unusual.
posted by somewaterytart | 1:21 PM | (13 comments) |
Thursday, March 06, 2008
I am Locutus of Borg.
Star Trek: First Contact
is on the Sci-Fi channel right now. The opening theme is playing. Me
: God I love this music.Sean
: This is an epic opening sequence.Me
: Are you recording this?Sean
: Are you sure?Sean
The Borg, people. The friggin' BORG.
Patrick Stewart is up there with Donald Sutherland in terms of sexy older men whom I enjoy very much. And Brent Spiner looks so good in shiny white makeup it's not even funny.
I am a nerd.
posted by somewaterytart | 6:31 PM | (14 comments) |
Really, San Diego?
Today, my Facebook news feed informed me that the top musical artist among San Diego Facebook members is Jack Johnson. To which I say: Really, San Diego? Have we not yet had enough of Mr. Johnson's unique brand of mediocrity? I mean, his music isn't offensively bad or anything (I'm looking at you, Maroon 5) but I think as a community we can do better in terms of a favorite
posted by somewaterytart | 6:20 PM | (5 comments) |
Wednesday, March 05, 2008
Public Service Announcement
I went to the grocery store today to procure the ingredients for my famous taco salad, and who did I meet near the front doors, suited up in green vests, smiling earnestly? Girl Scouts. Yes, it is officially Girl Scout Cookie Season
. Of course, I couldn't resist; the girls were so darn cute
, plus as a former Scout I understand the seriousness of their trade. And oh, the ensuing deliciousness. I had forgotten that Samoas are chewy. I love chewy. Pure, undiluted bliss.
By the way, one of those boxes of Thin Mints
is for MeMe Roth.
But if she's not in the mood for cookies, she can just eat my ass.
posted by somewaterytart | 6:36 PM | (7 comments) |
Tuesday, March 04, 2008
Further hiking adventures: On Saturday Sean and I drove 50 miles east to Julian, a gold mining town-turned-tourist attraction famous for its apple orchards and the subsequent pies. We hiked through the Santa Ysabel Open Space Preserve, which provides an abundance of open space and a really cool rotting cow carcas, which I hesitated to post for fear of freaking you out. I mean, the cat anus thing was probably enough, right? Anyhow, it was a perilous hike rife with uphill battles, and after that we went into town and had some pie with a crumbly crust. Unfortunately, I do not have any pictures of the pie.
posted by somewaterytart | 9:02 PM | (10 comments) |
Monday, March 03, 2008
Movie Quote Meme
Instructions: Look up 15 of your favorite films on IMDb and take a quote from each. List them below. When someone guesses the quote correctly, cross it off the list. Leave a comment with your answers. And NO CHEATING.1.
I watched a snail crawl along the edge of a straight razor. That's my dream. That's my nightmare. Crawling, slithering, along the edge of a straight... razor... and surviving.
You are... writing words, words, more words! Well, you'll make a rope of words and strangle this business! But there'll be a microphone there to catch the last gurgles, and Technicolor to photograph the red, swollen tongues!
-You were once a professor of psychiatry specializing in helping paranoid and homicidal lunatics suffering from delusions of grandeur.
-Yes, but now I work for the United Nations.
-Then your work has not changed.
You are beautiful. And you are unpredictable. But you're so cautious. You're determined, Beth; but you know something? You're not strong. And I don't know if you're really giving. Tell me something. Do you love me? You really love me?
-Uh, whose car is that out front?
-Mine. 1970 Pontiac Firebird. The car I've always wanted and now I have it. I rule!
Esteem him? Like him? Use those insipid words again and I shall leave the room this instant.
I remember my father telling me, "The eyes of God are on us always." The eyes of God. What a phrase to a young boy. What were God's eyes like? Unimaginably penetrating, intense eyes, I assumed. And I wonder if it was just a coincidence I made my specialty ophthalmology.
The crickets and the rust-beetles scuttled among the nettles of the sage thicket. "Vámonos, amigos," he whispered, and threw the busted leather flintcraw over the loose weave of the saddlecock. And they rode on in the friscalating dusklight.
There ain't nuthin' more powerful than the smell of mendacity!
Come on, bucket, mop, broom. Flora says, clean up the room!
Garbage. All I've been thinking about all week is garbage. I mean, I just can't stop thinking about it.
My birthday is in April and as someone older, can I please give you some advice? It is one thing to spark up a doobie and get laced at parties, but it is quite another to be fried all day.
You know what you are? You're God's answer to Job, y'know? You would have ended all argument between them. I mean, He would have pointed to you and said, y'know, "I do a lot of terrible things, but I can still make one of these." You know? And then Job would have said, "Eh. Yeah, well, you win."
On August 29th, 1997, it's gonna feel pretty fucking real to you too. Anybody not wearing 2 million sunblock is gonna have a real bad day. Get it?
Did you ever see that "Twilight Zone" where the guy signed a contract and they cut out his tongue and put it in a jar and it wouldn't die, it just grew and pulsated and gave birth to baby tongues? Pretty cool, huh?
posted by somewaterytart | 10:43 PM | (35 comments) |
Let me begin by saying that these are the biggest truffles I've ever seen.
, in his generosity and possible desire to fatten me up so he can eat me, included me on his latest truffle-delivery trip to San Diego, and today I went to a baking supply store to pick up my package. As you can see, they are quite large as truffles go, and dense
and rich and creamy on the inside. It would take me an entire day to eat one, which is perfect because they'll last awhile and I can have them with coffee and tea and for breakfast and maybe at 2 AM sometimes. I gave a couple to Ciara's dad, a man with a sweet tooth unmatched in any other mortal being, and he wolfed one down in two bites, giving his compliments and thanks to its creator with his mouth full. Sean gives his, too.
New smell in the house? Sniffy Cat is on the case.
posted by somewaterytart | 9:49 PM | (4 comments) |
Sunday, March 02, 2008
A Letter to the LA Times
With regards to "A Little Something for the Ladies" by Joel Stein, February 29, 2008:
Mr. Stein's conviction that a candidate's chromosomal makeup is the determining factor by which women back him or her, along with his claims of women's irrationality, are disturbingly sexist. That Hillary Clinton is female is anecdotal in comparison with her intellect, experience, and history of support for women's issues. Mr. Stein's atavistic views of female hysteria are, in the view of this longtime LA Times reader, more appropriate for a 19th century anti-suffragist rally than the pages of a modern news source.
Not my best angry letter to the editor, to be sure, but it's Sunday night and I'm sleepy. Also, Joel Stein is a prick. Yeah, I know he was trying to be funny. He failed.
posted by somewaterytart | 9:39 PM | (7 comments) |