very very necessary
I AM CHIRPING ALONG WITH CORIN TUCKER RIGHT NOW WITH MY OFFICE DOOR CLOSED
Next weekend I will be in Washington, DC, for a board meeting. Aren't I just such a grown-up? I am staying right downtown, and although I will be trapped in a hotel for an entire Saturday and schmoozing at a dinner that evening, I will have some free time before and after, and I don't know the area that well, so make with the 411 if you have time to send me an e-mail. I am not mobile in the automobile sense, but I am good with trains and such. I remember one cool record store from my last trip there, and some weird underground bar with lots of Elvis Costello on the jukebox that H and I went to, but that is all. Was straight edge born in DC? That is unfortunate. We won't hold that against it.
Really good article about how iPod is probably just a beginning. If I could justify the price tag I would still be buying one, or something similar, though. I am getting really frustrated with CDs, with their bulkiness and nonportability.
Pig orgasms, discussed by those who have personally witnessed such.
REVIEWS OF THREE JEWEL SALAD BAR SALADS, SINCE I COULD NOT DECIDE, IN MY LOW-BLOOD-SUGAR STATE, WHICH ONE I TRULY DESIRED AND THUS HAD A SCOOP OF EACH
1. Spinach and sun-dried tomato with balsamic dressing: Eh. It was okay. I neither laughed nor cried, but I did stay through the closing credits. It was not as good as Nordstrom's spinach and sun-dried tomato salad, but neither was it nearly six freaking dollars like theirs is. Thumbs sideways, and leaning toward thumbs up if you really need to get your spinach on.(Which sometimes I do. I don't know if my love for spinach started in childhood, when I had a rather disconcerting Popeye fetish for a while*, but I do love the green stuff and bags of baby spinach [mmm...baby] are a weekly item on my shopping list.)
*[Seriously, I used to draw an anchor on my arm and I affected a sailor hat and bubble pipe, and I used to make my best friend at the time play somewhat-lesbotronic games with me, wherein I was Popeye and I "rescued" her a lot.]
2. Tabbouleh: NO. Like eating a handful of cilantro-infused sand. I don't know what I was thinking anyway, since tabbouleh is a tricky proposition, and many are too dry or the bulgur is undersoftened or whatever. I mean, sometimes it is good at a restaurant or something but personally I like to spend my Lebanese dining dollar elsewhere. Like on fattoush or fuul. (Note on that last link: I have actually been to Al Tabei! It is one of the few decent cheap restaurants in Cairo! Hooray! Cairo has many good things going for it, but cuisine is not among them!)
3. Mediterranean orzo salad: Ah. Now we’re talking. Spinach, feta, black olive pieces, tomatoes—enough vegetable-type stuff added to a pasta salad so you don’t get that weird “I Am Chowing Down On Cold Glutinous Starch” feeling afterwards. I will be back.
Last night was yoga. And I don't know how to put this in a delicate way but we did approximately five straight minutes of rapid pelvic tilts with rather forceful breathing. Plus a little background commentary as our instructor walked around giving a few people adjustments, and gently murmuring for them to “push down” and other enigmatic phrases like that. I would like to have a recording of that part of yoga class. Perhaps there are some horny sound fetishists on this here Internet who would enjoy it.
Yesterday was Billy Ocean's birthday. Did you celebrate? Maybe with some Caribbean food and a solemn pledge: No More Love On The Run? Today is the birthday of Steve Perry, which means that we should take a Midnight Train Going Anywhere, and things kind of fall off tomorrow in Classic Rock Birthday World with only Robin Zander from Cheap Trick blowing out the candles. And I feel very weird saying this, but I cannot name a single Cheap Trick song, and I had to cheat and use the Google, and even then none of the lyrics sound familiar. So great is my shame. I shall not pass Go, I shall go directly to Not Being Able To Name A Single Cheap Trick Song Jail. (ps: I found all this birthday stuff out from this site.)
Violin? Oh that old piece of wood? Look, here is the deal. I don't think I want to go back to my lessons for a while. Here are the reasons, with rebuttals in parentheses, because I can never ever ever stop second-guessing myself. If I stop second-guessing myself, I die! I am like a Shark Of Doubt! Only instead of swimming forward, it's all about the self-doubt!
Reason #1: I am all busy. (Yeah. You are really busy. Two hours of couch or beer time could easily be converted into a violin lesson.) Reason #2: I am kind of fed up with Paul's teaching methods, the way he is too quick to correct instead of letting me figure things out on my own, and the way he likes to play along with me during tricky passages, which does me no good at all since then I can't hear what I am doing. (You could let him know these things, since you are ostensibly a grown-up and are paying the guy, instead of just not calling him anymore.) Reason #3: I have temporarily lost interest, to tell the truth. (The rebuttals to this are complicated…part of me is gleefully embracing the idea that I can simply not do what I don't want to do [A touch of Good Girl Syndrome? Who, me?], and part of me thinks that is not a good-enough reason, and I should be forcing myself to continue my violin lessons, because I have been playing the violin off and on for twenty-five years now.) Maybe I will quit the lessons temporarily, and continue to practice occasionally at home, when the mood strikes me, and of course continue to be a sassmouthy know-it-all when it comes to other people's violin playing. Like the elderly Asian man busking at Chicago and State who flatly scrapes away on some Brahms thing and whoa he is bad. Whenever I wait for the subway there and he is doing his bit I almost want to say “Can you play your violin…better?”
BIRDS FREAK ME OUT
Especially this morning, when a flock of pigeons was totally freaking out as I shivered and moaned obscenities and waited for the bus (it was a balmy ten degrees this morning). The pigeons, a huge flock of them (is there a more evocative word for a group of pigeons? A nasty of pigeons. An urban blight of pigeons. A serious genetic deformity of pigeons), were all circling this one billboard (for the Chicago Tribune), and a few of them would land each time but others would take off and keep making the giant circles, and this weird example of hive mind gave me the willies. The willies are not good to have that early in the morning.
Only a factory farmer would refer to cannibalism as a “behavior problem.”
After saying “flock” up there I started thinking about the word “flock,” and was disappointed to learn that “flocking” is not an obscure sexual practice. Here is the American Flock Association's Web page.
A LITTLE TOO LATE FOR XMAS, BUT WHAT THE FUCK
How about the sad and lonely baseball cap? That will get the chicks!
Or maybe caffeinated soap.
And everyone loves rapsnacks!
KIDS THESE DAYS
Go ahead and call me a killjoy, but I would expel your ass: And some students, “probably guys,” Mena says, ripped the ink cartridge out of the copy machine in Shasta Hall and splattered ink all over the place when they smashed it. The article says that for most dorm room damages like this, everyone gets charged $50 if no one owns up to it, and if the culprit is caught, he must pay damages. Fuck that. I know some colleges are basically holding tanks for crazed late-adolescents, but these kids should be kicked out because shit like that does not fly in the real world. (Oh Mimi DominatrixPants! Will you come discipline me too? And wear those kneesocks!)
STUFF THAT DID NOT FIT ANYWHERE ELSE
Database of sea shanties! To help us get ready for the Double Pirate Super Bowl!
TIME IS NEVER WASTED
What brilliant mind, presumably inside a head and attached to an articulate mouth, with all synapses firing appropriately, said that the four Adult Food Groups are alcohol, sugar, fat, and caffeine? ERGO: Irish coffee! Come up with a nutritional supplement to dump into Irish coffee and we would never have to eat again. Hey, it is better than Slim-Fast made with bourbon, which was my other meal-replacer idea.
UPDATE! NINE HOURS AFTER I STARTED WRITING THIS! IT IS A REAL-TIME SORT OF REALITY TELEVISION ONLINE DIARY THING!
1. LT and I just had a discussion about whether or not I would divorce him if he accidentally did all the laundry—which is his job—in pig fat instead of in detergent. I say he gets one honest mistake, but if it happened a second time it would be time to call the attorney.
2. Hey! Guess who is drunk! On beer! Did you guess me? Good for you! Happy Wednesday!
—mimi smartypants has her mind on her money and her money on her mind.