I'm all for the cinematic quality the rain lends to certain situations. And as London exemplifies, even entire cities can become more charming with a natural shower. But I won't be standing outside blasting Peter Gabriel from a radio anytime soon, and San Francisco sucks in the rain.
The original slogan for Rice 'a Roni was actually, "San Francisco sucks in the rain" but the executives were all, that doesn't do much for the rice, so they changed it. But honestly, one more day of this and I'm going to break.
What kills me most is that people refuse to change their pace in relation to the bad weather. My personal curse is that i'm always stuck behind zig-zag walkers. Those people who stroll aimlessly one way, and then, nope, decide to go back the other way. Just in case you were wondering, they're the worst people in the world.
Zig-Zaggers with carts in the grocery store? The worst.
Zig-Zaggers on train platforms. The worst.
Zig-Zaggers with umbrellas in the rain? These people are like presidents of the club.
And I feel like it's gotta be a club. Only, how they ever get to the meetings is beyond me.
'Hey there friend, going to the meeting?'
'Well, I'd like to, but it's about 12 ft away so I don't think I'll be there on time.'
But why must the slowest people who chose to walk in S-formations always have the biggest umbrellas?? If it's not already hard enough to get around them on a sunny day, now you have this huge obstacle to contend with. It's like a really messed up version of Double Dare designed specifically to piss people off. And the physical challenge is just to see if you can go 3 blocks without kicking them.
Oh, man.
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
Saturday, March 25, 2006
The 37 minute good-bye
usually my parents make their weekly call on Sunday, right after a huge breakfast and the paper, and then I have to hear about both. But my dad is always jumping the gun and calling on Saturday mornings, which I've asked him repeatedly not to do, because it means I'll have to hear the same stories twice. "Yea, dad. We talked about that yesterday." For a while I was screening my calls and just not answering when he would call on days other than Sunday, but that's honestly, like the biggest jerk move ever, and I had to stop. Plus, if i didn't pick up, there would be like 8 messages about squash in my voicemail.
I've learned over the years, that if i don't start to say good-bye the minute I pick up the phone, he'll never hang up. Really. But even with blatant hints, and flat out saying, "I have to go" he'll keep right on talking.
I just got off the phone with him. all my end of the conversation ever is, is saying what I need to do away from the phone.
-Hi dad-listen, I just got in from a run, i'm all gross, gonna jump in the shower and i'll talk to you guys tomorrow.
-Oh, OK. Just called to tell you that Rochester is selling the Fast Ferry.
-Pause....
-England might buy it! Or maybe Spain.
-Well, that's good. Can you tell me--
-They'll pay like $30 million for it used. I think it's $50 million new. So that's a savings!
-Um, yea. that's a deal, ooook, well
-Have you had any good salmon lately?
-Pause...
-I had the most delicious shrimp bisque the other night. Or was it crab? Nono, shrimp. ooh boy, it was good. We got some to go and I just had it for lunch with a grilled cheese sandwich.
-Speaking of food, I'm gonna grab some breakfast, I'll talk to you---
- And guess what? I was telling mom how much I miss the blueberry cobbler at the Basket Factory, remember that place? And guess what she did? she made one. only, it was cherry, but still.
-Pause...
And this continued, until I hung up, the right side of my face hot from the phone. tomorrow will be round 2, which is exactly like round one, only my mother will have stories too. "oh, Jessica, you'll never believe the bisque we had."
I've learned over the years, that if i don't start to say good-bye the minute I pick up the phone, he'll never hang up. Really. But even with blatant hints, and flat out saying, "I have to go" he'll keep right on talking.
I just got off the phone with him. all my end of the conversation ever is, is saying what I need to do away from the phone.
-Hi dad-listen, I just got in from a run, i'm all gross, gonna jump in the shower and i'll talk to you guys tomorrow.
-Oh, OK. Just called to tell you that Rochester is selling the Fast Ferry.
-Pause....
-England might buy it! Or maybe Spain.
-Well, that's good. Can you tell me--
-They'll pay like $30 million for it used. I think it's $50 million new. So that's a savings!
-Um, yea. that's a deal, ooook, well
-Have you had any good salmon lately?
-Pause...
-I had the most delicious shrimp bisque the other night. Or was it crab? Nono, shrimp. ooh boy, it was good. We got some to go and I just had it for lunch with a grilled cheese sandwich.
-Speaking of food, I'm gonna grab some breakfast, I'll talk to you---
- And guess what? I was telling mom how much I miss the blueberry cobbler at the Basket Factory, remember that place? And guess what she did? she made one. only, it was cherry, but still.
-Pause...
And this continued, until I hung up, the right side of my face hot from the phone. tomorrow will be round 2, which is exactly like round one, only my mother will have stories too. "oh, Jessica, you'll never believe the bisque we had."
Thursday, March 23, 2006
We Have To Name It?
An email was sent out at work announcing the birth of a colleagues son. "Healthy baby boy...mother is well...leaving hospital today ... name has yet to be determined."
um, what?!
Have you ever heard of this? How can you not have a name for your baby? That's like looking for a dog and never once suggesting what you'll call it. No, actually it's nothing like that. Because even people who will never have dogs, have names already picked out for them. If you can't list 3 names for a hypothetical dog, right this second, you're lying.
But a child?! You had 9 months, are you kidding me? Even Panda's can come up with names for their cubs and I think they have significantly less time to think about it. Granted, they could use an extra few months, they are notoriously horrible at naming offspring. "Yea, we're gonna go with Ling. And um, i guess ... yea, why don't we throw another Ling in there."
I thought I heard somewhere that you're not allowed to leave a hospital until the baby has a name. It'll be so obvious when the kid grows up that his parents put no thought into it and just spewed something out last minute. Like Jennifer Grey's character in Dirty Dancing.
The Director's Cut of that movie opens with her parents tapping on the glass of the nursery and a Doctor says, "You can't leave here until you give that baby a name."
And Jerry Orbach's character shrugs his shoulders and is like, "OK, whatever." And then he pulls a gun and gets all up in the doctor's face and says, "And I want her crib moved out of that effing corner, you dig?"
Oh yeah, Jerry Orbach was a Black Panther in that version. It was good.
um, what?!
Have you ever heard of this? How can you not have a name for your baby? That's like looking for a dog and never once suggesting what you'll call it. No, actually it's nothing like that. Because even people who will never have dogs, have names already picked out for them. If you can't list 3 names for a hypothetical dog, right this second, you're lying.
But a child?! You had 9 months, are you kidding me? Even Panda's can come up with names for their cubs and I think they have significantly less time to think about it. Granted, they could use an extra few months, they are notoriously horrible at naming offspring. "Yea, we're gonna go with Ling. And um, i guess ... yea, why don't we throw another Ling in there."
I thought I heard somewhere that you're not allowed to leave a hospital until the baby has a name. It'll be so obvious when the kid grows up that his parents put no thought into it and just spewed something out last minute. Like Jennifer Grey's character in Dirty Dancing.
The Director's Cut of that movie opens with her parents tapping on the glass of the nursery and a Doctor says, "You can't leave here until you give that baby a name."
And Jerry Orbach's character shrugs his shoulders and is like, "OK, whatever." And then he pulls a gun and gets all up in the doctor's face and says, "And I want her crib moved out of that effing corner, you dig?"
Oh yeah, Jerry Orbach was a Black Panther in that version. It was good.
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
It's Sticky to Rock A Rhyme
The woman who restocks the Band-Aids in the kitchen first aid kit, came into work the other day. I love how many random jobs exist to keep this crazy world a'turnin. We have a whole cast of characters that come into the hotel at different times to "work" and we've affectionately named them all.
There's 'Tea Guy,' who comes in, looks at the tea, and then leaves. (ha. leaves). we've actually made up a song about him. The hook goes, "Just when you think your job sucks, Tea Guy comes, and you feel good."
There's 'Greasy Hands', a man who will show up from time to time to look under an oven or dishwasher, make coffee for himself and then head out. The thing is, we have hotel engineers to do this -- he's not one of them. We figure he found out that laying under machines for 3 minutes is a good way to get free coffee.
And monthly, there's a pest elimination crew, 'Da Crew' that comes in to spray everything. The spraying takes place after everyone has gone home, but the guys come in to wrap everything in plastic hours before hand. "Um could you hold off for a minute, we're actually using all this stuff." "Nope, gotta wrap it now." So we let them do it and then just rip it all off when they leave. It's like christmas morning, every time they come. "WHOA! and industrial freezer!! how'd you know??"
I'm not sure how Band-Aid Lady is compensated, but give me a box of j&j's and I can restock that shizz. But I guess I would be lacking the passion that she displays. Each time she comes in, we're stuck listening to her rant about different products for at least 20 minutes. This time, it was an impassioned speech about the stickiness of the Band-Aids we've been using. She held one in each hand, an original, and a new one, and moving her index fingers on and off the bandages, conducted the highly scientific industry test of stickiness.
"I'm testing them right now, and you know? I can't tell a difference."
Oh, and I should mention, Band-Aid Lady is crazy.
This is a true slice of her description of the new Band-Aid she was putting in the kit.
"Well, the flesh-tone are stickier. Everyone knows that. But in a kitchen, you need the blue, that's a rule."
"Oh, yea, i guess that makes sense."
"Well it's because they have metal detectors in them. So if you're using a knife or get too close to say, a mixer, or something, it has sensors that let you know. I don't know if you've ever tried one on and stood next to metal, but they'll let you know. Trust me."
To which Erik goes, "We're still talking about Band-Aids, right?"
Well played.
And Band-Aid Lady goes, "Well the chef up here complained that the old one's weren't sticky enough. So have him try these out today."
So Erik says, "Yea, and if he doesn't need one, we'll cut him so he's forced to try one."
And BAL nodded a few sharp nods, like it was a solid plan. "OK, good. Thank You."
I'm just constantly amazed by people.
There's 'Tea Guy,' who comes in, looks at the tea, and then leaves. (ha. leaves). we've actually made up a song about him. The hook goes, "Just when you think your job sucks, Tea Guy comes, and you feel good."
There's 'Greasy Hands', a man who will show up from time to time to look under an oven or dishwasher, make coffee for himself and then head out. The thing is, we have hotel engineers to do this -- he's not one of them. We figure he found out that laying under machines for 3 minutes is a good way to get free coffee.
And monthly, there's a pest elimination crew, 'Da Crew' that comes in to spray everything. The spraying takes place after everyone has gone home, but the guys come in to wrap everything in plastic hours before hand. "Um could you hold off for a minute, we're actually using all this stuff." "Nope, gotta wrap it now." So we let them do it and then just rip it all off when they leave. It's like christmas morning, every time they come. "WHOA! and industrial freezer!! how'd you know??"
I'm not sure how Band-Aid Lady is compensated, but give me a box of j&j's and I can restock that shizz. But I guess I would be lacking the passion that she displays. Each time she comes in, we're stuck listening to her rant about different products for at least 20 minutes. This time, it was an impassioned speech about the stickiness of the Band-Aids we've been using. She held one in each hand, an original, and a new one, and moving her index fingers on and off the bandages, conducted the highly scientific industry test of stickiness.
"I'm testing them right now, and you know? I can't tell a difference."
Oh, and I should mention, Band-Aid Lady is crazy.
This is a true slice of her description of the new Band-Aid she was putting in the kit.
"Well, the flesh-tone are stickier. Everyone knows that. But in a kitchen, you need the blue, that's a rule."
"Oh, yea, i guess that makes sense."
"Well it's because they have metal detectors in them. So if you're using a knife or get too close to say, a mixer, or something, it has sensors that let you know. I don't know if you've ever tried one on and stood next to metal, but they'll let you know. Trust me."
To which Erik goes, "We're still talking about Band-Aids, right?"
Well played.
And Band-Aid Lady goes, "Well the chef up here complained that the old one's weren't sticky enough. So have him try these out today."
So Erik says, "Yea, and if he doesn't need one, we'll cut him so he's forced to try one."
And BAL nodded a few sharp nods, like it was a solid plan. "OK, good. Thank You."
I'm just constantly amazed by people.
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
Always the bridesmaid
I don't get weddings. I suppose i understand the whole idea behind marriage but since most of the nation defines it as a union allowed only between a man and a woman, i'm inclined to find the whole thing a little silly. Like a sign of exclusion kids have tacked onto their tree fort, "No -- whatever -- allowed." OK fine, have your little club.
But people i love keep getting married so i'm not going to snub them just because i think it's ridiculous. I think balloon animals are pointless but i've never once passed up an inflated latex poodle. (how do they get that little ball on the tail?? i love that tail ball.)
Anyway, when i called my lifelong friend beth a few months ago, she answered the phone all flustered.
"can i call you back?"
"you sound nervous, are you ok?"
"shane is proposing."
which was followed by me cursing her out for answering the phone at such an inappropriate time until i realized i was ruining the moment for them and hung up.
when i called a mutual friend to tell her how crazy i thought this was she answered the phone whispering.
"why are you whispering?"
"i'm in the movies."
What's wrong with these people?!!
So beth asked me to be a bridesmaid which was super nice, and a little weird at the same time. we grew up together, so i think of all the little kid stuff we did, and now she's getting married, which seems like the most adult thing you can do. 2-year cellphone contracts freak me out. standing up there while she's being all grown up is going to be a true test of my maturity. good thing i'll be wearing the same thing as six other girls, it'll do a lot to establish me as an adult.
Could someone explain the bridesmaid dress thing?? I don't understand. If these are the people you're closest to, why would you make them all wear the same dress? Isn't that the big thing we're trying to avoid at parties? last year before my cousin's wedding i went into maxstudio and tried on the most ridiculous dress just because i thought no one else would have it. it had so many layers and straps it should have come with directions, and being the fashionista that i am, i got stuck in it. Seriously. arms above head, dress half on, head stuck in layers of material. For 20 minutes, trying to wiggle my way out of it, sweating profusely, hiding the fear in my voice when the sales people came by to check on me, until i honestly started to freak out. I was picturing how i could leave the store, without actually being able to see, no pants on, dress covering my upper body, hands in the air, without anyone noticing. Long story short, i had to be pulled from the dress, it ripped, i paid for it. You don't know humiliation until a stranger is pulling you out of a dress asking how you'd like to pay for it. And that's why i blush every time i see a maxstudio ad.
But i just got the pics of what we're wearing for beth's wedding, and to my complete relief, no straps. 'Cuz i love her and i wouldn't want to ruin her special day being the bridesmaid with the dress around her face.
But people i love keep getting married so i'm not going to snub them just because i think it's ridiculous. I think balloon animals are pointless but i've never once passed up an inflated latex poodle. (how do they get that little ball on the tail?? i love that tail ball.)
Anyway, when i called my lifelong friend beth a few months ago, she answered the phone all flustered.
"can i call you back?"
"you sound nervous, are you ok?"
"shane is proposing."
which was followed by me cursing her out for answering the phone at such an inappropriate time until i realized i was ruining the moment for them and hung up.
when i called a mutual friend to tell her how crazy i thought this was she answered the phone whispering.
"why are you whispering?"
"i'm in the movies."
What's wrong with these people?!!
So beth asked me to be a bridesmaid which was super nice, and a little weird at the same time. we grew up together, so i think of all the little kid stuff we did, and now she's getting married, which seems like the most adult thing you can do. 2-year cellphone contracts freak me out. standing up there while she's being all grown up is going to be a true test of my maturity. good thing i'll be wearing the same thing as six other girls, it'll do a lot to establish me as an adult.
Could someone explain the bridesmaid dress thing?? I don't understand. If these are the people you're closest to, why would you make them all wear the same dress? Isn't that the big thing we're trying to avoid at parties? last year before my cousin's wedding i went into maxstudio and tried on the most ridiculous dress just because i thought no one else would have it. it had so many layers and straps it should have come with directions, and being the fashionista that i am, i got stuck in it. Seriously. arms above head, dress half on, head stuck in layers of material. For 20 minutes, trying to wiggle my way out of it, sweating profusely, hiding the fear in my voice when the sales people came by to check on me, until i honestly started to freak out. I was picturing how i could leave the store, without actually being able to see, no pants on, dress covering my upper body, hands in the air, without anyone noticing. Long story short, i had to be pulled from the dress, it ripped, i paid for it. You don't know humiliation until a stranger is pulling you out of a dress asking how you'd like to pay for it. And that's why i blush every time i see a maxstudio ad.
But i just got the pics of what we're wearing for beth's wedding, and to my complete relief, no straps. 'Cuz i love her and i wouldn't want to ruin her special day being the bridesmaid with the dress around her face.
Sunday, March 19, 2006
could this BE more american?
Read an article a few days ago about recent studies showing a significant side effect of Ambien, the best selling sleeping pill in the US. It turns out, many people develop an eating disorder and sleepwalk into their kitchens making tons of snacks, and then head back to bed without realizing it. In one case, a woman gained 100 pounds before realizing the drug might have something to do with it. sorry, 100 freakin pounds??! around 40lbs, wouldn't she start to think, 'hey, i can't wear pants anymore. and why is the kitchen so messy in the morning? i live alone.'
In another case, a woman was found at different times making bacon and eggs in the night, heating the oven and eating sandwiches. people, she wasn't awake! "hey, what's for dinner? i don't know, let me go to sleep and i'll whip something up."
Only Americans could have side effects with such a strong lazy/gluttonous combo. i wish they'd give ambien to japanese people and see what happens. They'd all be making more fuel efficient cars and impressive origami in the wee hours of the night.
oh, america. we spend millions of dollars to fall asleep and wake up fatter. This is just the sort of thing i think the pilgrims hoped for on their voyage to the new world. Escape religious persecution and make eggs at 2 in the morning with your eyes closed.
Few people know this, but the first thanksgiving dinner took place after one of the native people gave everyone an Ambien. No one would have known about it had it not been for the brilliant sketch talents of a young Pocahontas. The next day when people saw the drawings, they agreed to try it awake.
That's true.
But the story does not end well, i'm afraid, for poor Pocahontas. After seeing her abilities, her people used her as a cariciture artist and she was never allowed to leave. That's why in every depiction we have today of Native Americans, they are seen riding bikes or playing beach volleyball.
In another case, a woman was found at different times making bacon and eggs in the night, heating the oven and eating sandwiches. people, she wasn't awake! "hey, what's for dinner? i don't know, let me go to sleep and i'll whip something up."
Only Americans could have side effects with such a strong lazy/gluttonous combo. i wish they'd give ambien to japanese people and see what happens. They'd all be making more fuel efficient cars and impressive origami in the wee hours of the night.
oh, america. we spend millions of dollars to fall asleep and wake up fatter. This is just the sort of thing i think the pilgrims hoped for on their voyage to the new world. Escape religious persecution and make eggs at 2 in the morning with your eyes closed.
Few people know this, but the first thanksgiving dinner took place after one of the native people gave everyone an Ambien. No one would have known about it had it not been for the brilliant sketch talents of a young Pocahontas. The next day when people saw the drawings, they agreed to try it awake.
That's true.
But the story does not end well, i'm afraid, for poor Pocahontas. After seeing her abilities, her people used her as a cariciture artist and she was never allowed to leave. That's why in every depiction we have today of Native Americans, they are seen riding bikes or playing beach volleyball.
Monday, March 13, 2006
Oh, that drunk girl with the beads? M'big sis.
my sisters are hilarious. Vanessa is witty funny and will act weird for a laugh, which is always good. Sabrina makes me laugh just by talking. And then she gets pissed because she's not trying to be funny, and gets mad that I'm not taking her seriously, and that makes me laugh harder.
Example. She called at like 1AM my time on Saturday to tell me about our cousin Steven's party in nyc. The kid went all out, and it sounded like an amazing time. I was trying to pay attention but she talks so fast normally that when she's drunk, there's just no stopping her.
I guess whoever got the most beads by the end of the night, won an ipod. So brina was going on and on in her very own special version of drunk girl dialect and I was trying my best not to hang up on her.
"So I was working the room, right? Talking to EVERYBODY getting their beads. They kept saying, you're gonna win, I want you to win."
"But you already have an ipod, right?"
"Yes, but still. So The whole night I had all these heavy beads on me, and they were hot and I was getting so sweaty and gross, and when we weighed them out at the end of the night, i was totally the winner. There was no contest. But Steven gave the ipod to this other girl! Can you believe that?!"
"Yea, bri, you have one, who cares?"
(screaming) "I DO! Those beads got heavy and my skin is all itchy now!"
Sorry, I freakin love my sister, but when people call me in the early morning to yell at me in slurred speech about sensitive skin and missing second ipods, I get full quickly.
"Ok, sorry Bri, I'm gonna go."
And like a switch, the wonders of drunk girl kicked in and she was happy as a clam. "OK, bye sister!! I'll send pics!!"
oh, I enjoy it.
it's heavy, but important.
Start light.
Ben Stein's column in Sunday's NYTimes opened with perhaps my favorite bit of dialogue in any film, ever. And that's saying a lot. It's the scene in Monty Python's The Meaning of Life when executives are in a meeting and they ask one of the members to comment on the meaning of life.
"Yeah, I've had a team working on this over the past few weeks, and what we've come up with can be reduced to two fundamental concepts. One: People aren't wearing enough hats. Two: Matter is energy. In the universe there are many energy fields which we cannot normally perceive. Some energies have a spiritual source which act upon a person's soul. However, this 'soul' does not exist ab initio as orthodox Christianity teaches; it has to be brought into existence by a process of guided self-observation. However, this is rarely achieved owing to man's unique ability to be distracted from spiritual matters by everyday trivia."
To which is colleagues reply, "What was that about hats again?"
Right, so Stein goes on to say that being grateful is a good way to find meaning and that, "to be grateful is to get rich not just quickly, but instantly." I like this, and I agree.
But I think that it's too neat and FAR too American to think that that is enough. Just being here is a ridiculously good fortune, and it's not enough just to say you're thankful for it. That's like the 7- minute soul workout and then back to hats.
Nicholas D. Kristoff wrote an incredibly powerful piece in the Op-ed section about the genocide in Chad and Sudan. What's happening there is abhorrent and that the world allows it to continue is inexcusable. An old roommate worked as a photo-journalist in Sudan, and you can't imagine the constant fear with which the people there must live.
I totally and genuinely urge you to help put an end to this by sending a postcard to our ridiculous leader encouraging him to grow a pair and do something. http://www.millionvoicesfordarfur.org/. Another great site to learn about more we can do is http://www.genocideintervention.net/.
People, this is really important.
Ben Stein's column in Sunday's NYTimes opened with perhaps my favorite bit of dialogue in any film, ever. And that's saying a lot. It's the scene in Monty Python's The Meaning of Life when executives are in a meeting and they ask one of the members to comment on the meaning of life.
"Yeah, I've had a team working on this over the past few weeks, and what we've come up with can be reduced to two fundamental concepts. One: People aren't wearing enough hats. Two: Matter is energy. In the universe there are many energy fields which we cannot normally perceive. Some energies have a spiritual source which act upon a person's soul. However, this 'soul' does not exist ab initio as orthodox Christianity teaches; it has to be brought into existence by a process of guided self-observation. However, this is rarely achieved owing to man's unique ability to be distracted from spiritual matters by everyday trivia."
To which is colleagues reply, "What was that about hats again?"
Right, so Stein goes on to say that being grateful is a good way to find meaning and that, "to be grateful is to get rich not just quickly, but instantly." I like this, and I agree.
But I think that it's too neat and FAR too American to think that that is enough. Just being here is a ridiculously good fortune, and it's not enough just to say you're thankful for it. That's like the 7- minute soul workout and then back to hats.
Nicholas D. Kristoff wrote an incredibly powerful piece in the Op-ed section about the genocide in Chad and Sudan. What's happening there is abhorrent and that the world allows it to continue is inexcusable. An old roommate worked as a photo-journalist in Sudan, and you can't imagine the constant fear with which the people there must live.
I totally and genuinely urge you to help put an end to this by sending a postcard to our ridiculous leader encouraging him to grow a pair and do something. http://www.millionvoicesfordarfur.org/. Another great site to learn about more we can do is http://www.genocideintervention.net/.
People, this is really important.
Sunday, March 12, 2006
Orange you glad?
Yea Big East Champs!! So, Syracuse basketball is amazing. I love it:
a) because it's awesome
b) because it reminds me of the great times at the dome, ahh, dome sweet dome. and
c) well.. i guess that's it.
Equally as awesome is XM satellite radio which allowed me to listen to the game last night at work (i will now be paid $1500 from XM). But there's something very intimate about listening to a sports game on the radio. Baseball and football are no good for this, too much downtime, but college hoops? Forget about it--it's effing awesome! Not only do I have a newfound respect for commentators--the play by play is incredible, i'd kill to play one round of Simon says with them--but it's up to your own imagination to fill in where the players are and how they look. I was so all about this. For the first half of the game, I pictured all the PITT players as Snuggles the fabric softener bear, but I thought that was too cute and found myself routing for them, so second half I envisioned them all as that scary Bird lady character from Chuck E. Cheese. Right, so typing it out I realize I'm six years old. Hmm. Oh well.
But the commentators kept talking about the Gerry fan section at the Garden without giving it a name. They'd be like, "And look at the G-Mac fan section!" "All those people over there really love Gerry!" "They're going crazy over there in that particular area!" Cello?! give it a name-- I suggest G-spot.
Oh, and I have honestly, like 35 different Syracuse-related puns, so, get 'cuse to it.
aw snap.
a) because it's awesome
b) because it reminds me of the great times at the dome, ahh, dome sweet dome. and
c) well.. i guess that's it.
Equally as awesome is XM satellite radio which allowed me to listen to the game last night at work (i will now be paid $1500 from XM). But there's something very intimate about listening to a sports game on the radio. Baseball and football are no good for this, too much downtime, but college hoops? Forget about it--it's effing awesome! Not only do I have a newfound respect for commentators--the play by play is incredible, i'd kill to play one round of Simon says with them--but it's up to your own imagination to fill in where the players are and how they look. I was so all about this. For the first half of the game, I pictured all the PITT players as Snuggles the fabric softener bear, but I thought that was too cute and found myself routing for them, so second half I envisioned them all as that scary Bird lady character from Chuck E. Cheese. Right, so typing it out I realize I'm six years old. Hmm. Oh well.
But the commentators kept talking about the Gerry fan section at the Garden without giving it a name. They'd be like, "And look at the G-Mac fan section!" "All those people over there really love Gerry!" "They're going crazy over there in that particular area!" Cello?! give it a name-- I suggest G-spot.
Oh, and I have honestly, like 35 different Syracuse-related puns, so, get 'cuse to it.
aw snap.
Friday, March 10, 2006
Dear Abby
It's disappointing that my favorite part of the paper, the daily Sudoku puzzle, is positioned right next to the Dear Abby column. I hate Dear Abby. She's an idiot. Just like her friends Ms. Manners and Hints from Heloise, she has nothing valuable to say.
Heloise actually might be the worst. Her 'hints' are always blatantly obvious. "When traveling, use your cellphone alarm clock as an alarm clock." Really, Heloise? A clock as a clock? Thanks for the tip!
Idiot.
But today's Dear Abby headline was good enough to pull me away from the 4-star Sudoku.
"CAKE IN FACE ISN'T THAT FUNNY"
I furrowed my brow and thought out loud, um...yes it is.
The Dear Abby letters as follows are real. I've replaced Abby's responses with my own because I hate her.
Dear Abby: The letter you printed from "Dismayed Grandmother" in Laredo, Texas, brought back memories. I couldn't have been more than 8, and it was my father's birthday. There were flowers on his birthday cake and he said to me, "Smell the flowers. Go ahead, smell them!" I hesitated, but he insisted, so I bent over the cake to smell the flowers and he pushed my face into the frosting.
I am 72, and still remember how it felt to be deceived and humiliated by my father. My father thought he was being funny. Instead he lost his daughter's love and trust."
-Wishes He Hadn't In San Diego
Dear Wishes He Hadn't: I don't know what I find more amusing. A 64-year grudge over frosting, or the visual of an elderly woman's face being pushed into cake. Either way, thanks for writing.
Dear Abby: You missed the boat on the face-in-the-birthday-cake letter. Here in Mexico it is common--nay, usual--for the birthday boy or girl to have his or her face pushed into the cake. It is usually when the person's face is near the cake that someone standing behind him or her pushes their face into it.
I assume that's what happened at the party the grandmother attended, since it was from Laredo, Texas, which is on the border with Mexico. I personally do not enjoy being pushed into the cake, and yes, some kids do cry when it happens. But it's all done in fun, and I believe it's important to be a good sport about it.
-Robin in Mexico City
Dear Robin: We Americans often forget the important contributions Mexico has made to Birthday celebrations. Be it piñatas, tequila, illegal immigration, or face in the cake, Mexico has given us many an awkward memory. muchos gracias!
Also, you raise a good point about sportsmanship. Many cultures teach children about fair play by shoving their faces into dessert or pastry before games. In this year's winter Olympics, a member of Italy's bobsled team was unable to compete due to injuries sustained after having her face rammed into a box of frozen cannolis.
There's a lesson there, and Mexican's get it.
Dear Abby: Birthday parties shouldn't involve tears, and it's a shame that the boy's celebration was spoiled by this tradition. The hosts of the party should have better prepared the child for the event.
-Amy In Cedar Rapids, Iowa.
Dear Amy: Thank you for the letter. I agree.
In the months leading up to a child's birthday, parents should push his/her face into all their meals for practice. However, my friend Heloise has hinted that until the skin has worked up a tolerance to extreme heats, stews and hardy soups should be avoided.
Heloise actually might be the worst. Her 'hints' are always blatantly obvious. "When traveling, use your cellphone alarm clock as an alarm clock." Really, Heloise? A clock as a clock? Thanks for the tip!
Idiot.
But today's Dear Abby headline was good enough to pull me away from the 4-star Sudoku.
"CAKE IN FACE ISN'T THAT FUNNY"
I furrowed my brow and thought out loud, um...yes it is.
The Dear Abby letters as follows are real. I've replaced Abby's responses with my own because I hate her.
Dear Abby: The letter you printed from "Dismayed Grandmother" in Laredo, Texas, brought back memories. I couldn't have been more than 8, and it was my father's birthday. There were flowers on his birthday cake and he said to me, "Smell the flowers. Go ahead, smell them!" I hesitated, but he insisted, so I bent over the cake to smell the flowers and he pushed my face into the frosting.
I am 72, and still remember how it felt to be deceived and humiliated by my father. My father thought he was being funny. Instead he lost his daughter's love and trust."
-Wishes He Hadn't In San Diego
Dear Wishes He Hadn't: I don't know what I find more amusing. A 64-year grudge over frosting, or the visual of an elderly woman's face being pushed into cake. Either way, thanks for writing.
Dear Abby: You missed the boat on the face-in-the-birthday-cake letter. Here in Mexico it is common--nay, usual--for the birthday boy or girl to have his or her face pushed into the cake. It is usually when the person's face is near the cake that someone standing behind him or her pushes their face into it.
I assume that's what happened at the party the grandmother attended, since it was from Laredo, Texas, which is on the border with Mexico. I personally do not enjoy being pushed into the cake, and yes, some kids do cry when it happens. But it's all done in fun, and I believe it's important to be a good sport about it.
-Robin in Mexico City
Dear Robin: We Americans often forget the important contributions Mexico has made to Birthday celebrations. Be it piñatas, tequila, illegal immigration, or face in the cake, Mexico has given us many an awkward memory. muchos gracias!
Also, you raise a good point about sportsmanship. Many cultures teach children about fair play by shoving their faces into dessert or pastry before games. In this year's winter Olympics, a member of Italy's bobsled team was unable to compete due to injuries sustained after having her face rammed into a box of frozen cannolis.
There's a lesson there, and Mexican's get it.
Dear Abby: Birthday parties shouldn't involve tears, and it's a shame that the boy's celebration was spoiled by this tradition. The hosts of the party should have better prepared the child for the event.
-Amy In Cedar Rapids, Iowa.
Dear Amy: Thank you for the letter. I agree.
In the months leading up to a child's birthday, parents should push his/her face into all their meals for practice. However, my friend Heloise has hinted that until the skin has worked up a tolerance to extreme heats, stews and hardy soups should be avoided.
Tuesday, March 07, 2006
say prune!
Just read in an article that in old English photo studios, the photographers used to ask their subjects to say "prunes" because it gave the desired pout that comes off well in photos. Um, yea. we're such a 'cheese' family it's ridiculous. 
Ness is here on break from school. Finally got to see some pics from Christmas back East and from Vegas when my sisters, jen salmon and steve met up for her bday. All the good ones from vegas had to stay there, you know.
Ness is here on break from school. Finally got to see some pics from Christmas back East and from Vegas when my sisters, jen salmon and steve met up for her bday. All the good ones from vegas had to stay there, you know.
Saturday, March 04, 2006
Jesus, Take The Wheel
Sorry, but is anyone else aware that this is a song? Like, a popular song? It's been on top ten lists for months now. How am I just finding out about this?! Can we put aside personal beliefs for a hot second and look at this logistically?
When was the last time Jesus drove? He grew up in the desert, right? What did he drive around to work all those miracles? Oh yea, nothing. Son of God or not, you're not driving anywhere mister until we take a few loops around the neighborhood.
But could you imagine?
"Is there a problem officer? Well, I was feeling a little drowsy so I asked my Savior here to take over until we got to the next exit. Oh, just one second, let me check. Nope. He's never actually driven. Right, cars didn't exist back then. Oh, all the beeping? Sorry about that, we were stuck behind that Chevy with the 'Honk if you love JC' sticker for about 3 miles. Oh, no officer, I don't think he knew it was for JC Chasez. N'sync isn't allowed in Heaven. Ok, so He should show up to traffic court when, exactly? ooh, I don't know about that, being so close to Easter-- the whole rise again thing, exactly. It'd be a lot. Ok, nono thank you officer."
Hmm. It's late.
When was the last time Jesus drove? He grew up in the desert, right? What did he drive around to work all those miracles? Oh yea, nothing. Son of God or not, you're not driving anywhere mister until we take a few loops around the neighborhood.
But could you imagine?
"Is there a problem officer? Well, I was feeling a little drowsy so I asked my Savior here to take over until we got to the next exit. Oh, just one second, let me check. Nope. He's never actually driven. Right, cars didn't exist back then. Oh, all the beeping? Sorry about that, we were stuck behind that Chevy with the 'Honk if you love JC' sticker for about 3 miles. Oh, no officer, I don't think he knew it was for JC Chasez. N'sync isn't allowed in Heaven. Ok, so He should show up to traffic court when, exactly? ooh, I don't know about that, being so close to Easter-- the whole rise again thing, exactly. It'd be a lot. Ok, nono thank you officer."
Hmm. It's late.
Friday, March 03, 2006
tart to tart
My job is a joke. I'm OK with that. People who use college to write papers about the Existential themes of movies like, "My Dinner with Andre" should end up with joke jobs. We had our "annual reviews" yesterday, which, surprisingly enough, was also a joke.
My Asst. Manager Tony, is just about the greatest guy around. I seriously love working with him. He's like an 8 year old and every time we work together, he's like, "what should we make for snack?" I have a severe weakness for questions like that. Inventing new snacks is what I do for about 7 hours of my working day.
Anyway, the other day when I came into work, Tony and two morning servers were each eating these huge amazing looking fruit tarts. I have a profound respect for pastry chefs and these were works of art. So I commented, they kept eating, end of story.
Not so much. When Tony and the guys went home, I got a call from our pastry chef asking where the fruit tarts were. I said that I thought I'd seen some around, and I'd send them down. 2 minutes later I get a call from a now very pissy pastry chef (come on, you work with sugar and chocolate, why the frown?) asking why she's short 3 tarts. I said, "I don't know, how tall's your dad" (snap). She didn't like it. Said I was sorry I didn't know, (yea, go me!) and she hangs up the phone all mad with her sticky chocolate hand.
So when Erik (server, hilarious) comes into work, I relay the story and mention we should put a note in the log book for Tony about the tarts to scare him. Erik agrees on the brilliance of the plan and puts a simple note in that reads, "Pastry Chef upset about tarts. Tony, please follow up." OK, giggle giggle, forget about it.
The next morning at 6AM I get a frantic call from Tony. "Jessica, I need to know what the chef said, I'm writing an email now to the pastry chef, and the Executive chef apologizing about the tarts.." yada yada..."I cannot tell a lie." Ok, so with this I burst out laughing. Hi? you ate a tart. Don't go all Cherry Tree on my ass. I told him we were kidding and he let out this nervous laugh, and it was ok.
So yesterday, I'm sitting there with Tony getting my review, ("Am I anticipating the guests' need for condiments appropriately?") and he flips to the comment page where I see writing in pencil. And he goes, "So I wrote here under comments that your abuse of the log book is grounds for dismissal."
Hmm, OK.
And in the way that an 8 year old can't hold in a smirk, neither can Tony. And he goes, "No, I'm only kidding. (thoughtful pause) Let's make green tea milkshakes"
Ahhh.
My Asst. Manager Tony, is just about the greatest guy around. I seriously love working with him. He's like an 8 year old and every time we work together, he's like, "what should we make for snack?" I have a severe weakness for questions like that. Inventing new snacks is what I do for about 7 hours of my working day.
Anyway, the other day when I came into work, Tony and two morning servers were each eating these huge amazing looking fruit tarts. I have a profound respect for pastry chefs and these were works of art. So I commented, they kept eating, end of story.
Not so much. When Tony and the guys went home, I got a call from our pastry chef asking where the fruit tarts were. I said that I thought I'd seen some around, and I'd send them down. 2 minutes later I get a call from a now very pissy pastry chef (come on, you work with sugar and chocolate, why the frown?) asking why she's short 3 tarts. I said, "I don't know, how tall's your dad" (snap). She didn't like it. Said I was sorry I didn't know, (yea, go me!) and she hangs up the phone all mad with her sticky chocolate hand.
So when Erik (server, hilarious) comes into work, I relay the story and mention we should put a note in the log book for Tony about the tarts to scare him. Erik agrees on the brilliance of the plan and puts a simple note in that reads, "Pastry Chef upset about tarts. Tony, please follow up." OK, giggle giggle, forget about it.
The next morning at 6AM I get a frantic call from Tony. "Jessica, I need to know what the chef said, I'm writing an email now to the pastry chef, and the Executive chef apologizing about the tarts.." yada yada..."I cannot tell a lie." Ok, so with this I burst out laughing. Hi? you ate a tart. Don't go all Cherry Tree on my ass. I told him we were kidding and he let out this nervous laugh, and it was ok.
So yesterday, I'm sitting there with Tony getting my review, ("Am I anticipating the guests' need for condiments appropriately?") and he flips to the comment page where I see writing in pencil. And he goes, "So I wrote here under comments that your abuse of the log book is grounds for dismissal."
Hmm, OK.
And in the way that an 8 year old can't hold in a smirk, neither can Tony. And he goes, "No, I'm only kidding. (thoughtful pause) Let's make green tea milkshakes"
Ahhh.
Thursday, March 02, 2006
Crazy True Story
So I got an email from Sabrina this morning about what happened to her last night. While out for drinks, she caught a guy stealing stuff from her purse. The friend she was out with wrote the whole thing up. It's pretty long so I cut some, but the backstory: Brina calls the guy out on stealing, guy denies it, Bri says she's calling 911, stealer flees scene, Jonathan (her friend) chases after him! Hi? hilarious! As follows in Jonathan's words.
"The bar was located on 8th Ave and 55th Street. I followed him across the street, then across Broadway and kept following him as he ran towards 7th Ave. He yelled at me to stop following him, telling me that I was crazy. As I ran after him I was on the phone talking to 911 telling them what he looked like, what he was wearing, what I was wearing, (I was wearing my full suit from work, minus the name tag,) It’s a good thing I didn't have my gold plated name tag on, that could have slowed me down. I kept changing the location of the streets as I ran after this guy: I would say “I am on 55th and 7, now, 56th, and running uptown.
Then he cut across 6th Ave. into oncoming traffic. That was scary. I was wishing I had a badge, because I think I could have halted traffic easier. Instead I just yelled, “Official Business” and kept running after him. I wanted to yell FBI or CIA, but I thought maybe I could get in trouble for that, so I thought “official business” was better. Then he got into a yellow cab that was at a red light, on 6th Ave and 54th, and I opened the other door and got into the cab as well! No Joke, The driver looked back at me, and then this crook and I made direct eye contact for about 2 seconds. It was probably the most awkward moment of the whole chase! I kept telling the guy to slow down and that I just wanted to talk, but when I was right next to him in the cab, I had completely nothing to say.
He then opened the door and started running again. I got out and started running after him again. I told the 911 officer, “We are going to get this Fucker!” My adrenaline was running strong.
At the corner of 57th and 6th Ave, I saw cop lights finally and I just started yelling, “He is right here!, He is right here!” I saw a police Van and SUV cut across the intersection and park, blocking traffic and bunch of officers running towards me. The guy runs down the subway stairs into the subway stop that hosts the “F” Train. As we ran down the second set of stairs towards the train platform, the cops were on my heals and I yelled, “Thats is him!” as I pointed towards him. Three NYC police officers in Blue jackets whipped out their guns, and yelled, “Get down! Get down!” It would have been funnier if I got down too.
It was like something you would see in a movie, and within seconds the guy was in handcuffs, and they searched his bag to find 14 other purses and credit cards the guy had stolen. I pulled out my camera and videoed him being arrested. I said, “This guy pick pocked us and I chased him 20 blocks, (although it was really only 2 avenues, and 3 block, but it felt like 20). Look in his backpack I bet he has more peoples possessions”
As the cop pulled out all the purses I said to him and I can quote this, because I just reviewed the video I took….I said “He stole all these people’s stuff and he was in the process of robbing us, but I caught up to him, I followed him! He stole all of these peoples things! But we caught him. Thank You so much” I wanted to say we brought down to chinatown, but we were in Mid-town so I was't sure if that was appropriate, Too bad he did't run south. Then the crook said, “That’s not true!” and I respond, “Then who are all these peoples purses?” and he said, “They are mine.” I said, “Yeah, Yeah right!”
Just got off the phone with brina. I was laughing my head off and she was like, "Yeah and it was good because Jonathan was on my cell with 911, but called Koi on his cell to change our reservation." They had to go down to the police station for statements but, he writes, "We spent about 20 minutes in the station laughing and the night continued as planned, except we were dropped off in front of our trendy NYC restaurant in a police van instead of a Yellow Cab."
Quality.
"The bar was located on 8th Ave and 55th Street. I followed him across the street, then across Broadway and kept following him as he ran towards 7th Ave. He yelled at me to stop following him, telling me that I was crazy. As I ran after him I was on the phone talking to 911 telling them what he looked like, what he was wearing, what I was wearing, (I was wearing my full suit from work, minus the name tag,) It’s a good thing I didn't have my gold plated name tag on, that could have slowed me down. I kept changing the location of the streets as I ran after this guy: I would say “I am on 55th and 7, now, 56th, and running uptown.
Then he cut across 6th Ave. into oncoming traffic. That was scary. I was wishing I had a badge, because I think I could have halted traffic easier. Instead I just yelled, “Official Business” and kept running after him. I wanted to yell FBI or CIA, but I thought maybe I could get in trouble for that, so I thought “official business” was better. Then he got into a yellow cab that was at a red light, on 6th Ave and 54th, and I opened the other door and got into the cab as well! No Joke, The driver looked back at me, and then this crook and I made direct eye contact for about 2 seconds. It was probably the most awkward moment of the whole chase! I kept telling the guy to slow down and that I just wanted to talk, but when I was right next to him in the cab, I had completely nothing to say.
He then opened the door and started running again. I got out and started running after him again. I told the 911 officer, “We are going to get this Fucker!” My adrenaline was running strong.
At the corner of 57th and 6th Ave, I saw cop lights finally and I just started yelling, “He is right here!, He is right here!” I saw a police Van and SUV cut across the intersection and park, blocking traffic and bunch of officers running towards me. The guy runs down the subway stairs into the subway stop that hosts the “F” Train. As we ran down the second set of stairs towards the train platform, the cops were on my heals and I yelled, “Thats is him!” as I pointed towards him. Three NYC police officers in Blue jackets whipped out their guns, and yelled, “Get down! Get down!” It would have been funnier if I got down too.
It was like something you would see in a movie, and within seconds the guy was in handcuffs, and they searched his bag to find 14 other purses and credit cards the guy had stolen. I pulled out my camera and videoed him being arrested. I said, “This guy pick pocked us and I chased him 20 blocks, (although it was really only 2 avenues, and 3 block, but it felt like 20). Look in his backpack I bet he has more peoples possessions”
As the cop pulled out all the purses I said to him and I can quote this, because I just reviewed the video I took….I said “He stole all these people’s stuff and he was in the process of robbing us, but I caught up to him, I followed him! He stole all of these peoples things! But we caught him. Thank You so much” I wanted to say we brought down to chinatown, but we were in Mid-town so I was't sure if that was appropriate, Too bad he did't run south. Then the crook said, “That’s not true!” and I respond, “Then who are all these peoples purses?” and he said, “They are mine.” I said, “Yeah, Yeah right!”
Just got off the phone with brina. I was laughing my head off and she was like, "Yeah and it was good because Jonathan was on my cell with 911, but called Koi on his cell to change our reservation." They had to go down to the police station for statements but, he writes, "We spent about 20 minutes in the station laughing and the night continued as planned, except we were dropped off in front of our trendy NYC restaurant in a police van instead of a Yellow Cab."
Quality.
So, that happened
Living in San Francisco you have to expect the random. You have to know that at any given time, the weirdest thing you've ever seen will happen, and five minutes later, it will be trumped by the new weirdest thing. The same happens in New York, but at least people there have the courtesy to say, "what the fuck?" Here, people just keep smiling. It's really annoying. I feel like I'm the only one to ever notice these insane things going on around me, while everyone else is humming.
Case in point. Tonight it was pouring and the train was extremely late -- but I was having a nice little Zen moment under my umbrella so I didn't really mind. ('Sound under umbrella' should be one of the tracks on sleep tapes). Anyway, we're standing there and all of a sudden it became a very weird, David Lynch-esque, moment.
A 400lb man wearing a full White Sox uniform stood on the little island in the middle of the street, with no umbrella, and proceeded to smoke a bowl. After each hit he would cough so violently, I thought he would die right there in the middle of the street--soaking wet, in his baseball outfit. No one else seemed to care.
While the large man was slowly coughing himself to death, a little car with a spoiler zoomed by blasting soft rock. Seriously. If Kenny G had been approached to do the soundtrack for 2 fast 2 furious, this easily could have been a scene. The car kept circling around the street drag racing against itself for about 20 minutes. The entire time with that horrible music. The only plus is that when he passed, it muffled the all-star's hacking.
While this is going on, a young man in a cape carrying his bicycle (I checked, the tires were fine) made his way across the street to stand next to me. Well, now the night was complete. After about 3 seconds of conversation I concluded he was crazy. Not to generalize, but with people in capes? It's about 9 out of 10.
So I'm trying to ignore him without making it seem obvious, wishing he'd just pick up his bike and run away, all the while listening to the last few minutes of the now completely soaked man's life, and trying to avoid being hit by the asshole behind the wheel of the pimped out soprano sax. I looked around to see if anyone else noticed how insane this was. Not a single head looked up from their umbrella. And I swear, I heard about 4 people humming that terrible song from the car. Freakin SF.
Case in point. Tonight it was pouring and the train was extremely late -- but I was having a nice little Zen moment under my umbrella so I didn't really mind. ('Sound under umbrella' should be one of the tracks on sleep tapes). Anyway, we're standing there and all of a sudden it became a very weird, David Lynch-esque, moment.
A 400lb man wearing a full White Sox uniform stood on the little island in the middle of the street, with no umbrella, and proceeded to smoke a bowl. After each hit he would cough so violently, I thought he would die right there in the middle of the street--soaking wet, in his baseball outfit. No one else seemed to care.
While the large man was slowly coughing himself to death, a little car with a spoiler zoomed by blasting soft rock. Seriously. If Kenny G had been approached to do the soundtrack for 2 fast 2 furious, this easily could have been a scene. The car kept circling around the street drag racing against itself for about 20 minutes. The entire time with that horrible music. The only plus is that when he passed, it muffled the all-star's hacking.
While this is going on, a young man in a cape carrying his bicycle (I checked, the tires were fine) made his way across the street to stand next to me. Well, now the night was complete. After about 3 seconds of conversation I concluded he was crazy. Not to generalize, but with people in capes? It's about 9 out of 10.
So I'm trying to ignore him without making it seem obvious, wishing he'd just pick up his bike and run away, all the while listening to the last few minutes of the now completely soaked man's life, and trying to avoid being hit by the asshole behind the wheel of the pimped out soprano sax. I looked around to see if anyone else noticed how insane this was. Not a single head looked up from their umbrella. And I swear, I heard about 4 people humming that terrible song from the car. Freakin SF.
Wednesday, March 01, 2006
baby cone?
I've been saying this for years, but Karla Crowley is hands down the most naturally humorous person I know. Well, maybe close second to Michelle Garren. But still. We met up for dinner tonight and as always, I was waiting patiently to play a quick round of "I could go for something sweet." Even after the biggest meals-- unable to move without squinting meals-- Karla has ALWAYS said "I could go for something sweet" directly afterwards. ALWAYS. I offered her $1000 once if she could go without saying it. Either she thought I was kidding, or it's a mantra so deeply embedded it'd be like asking her not to blink, but she's never done it. But I totally love it. It's such a nice, predictable way to end a meal. Hearing it's like an after dinner mint or something. Enjoyable in a surprisingly simple way.
Magnolia's makes a quality cheeseburger, which she got, and I have to say, that was a little hard. I've been a vegetarian for a few months now and loving it("you still eat beef though, right?"-Steve Martin), but who doesn't love a cheeseburger? Come on now. When the food came out I looked down at my yam sandwich and it goes, "Yeah, I know. I'm sorry." It was a little trippy but I accepted it's apology. Who doesn't love a talking yam? Come on now.
But Karla was going on about how hungry she was because all she'd had all day was some kashi and pb&j. Let me tell you why this is hilarious. Karla has been living off the same 3 foods for about, um, all time? If she's not out to eat she's eating apples, pbj sammy's or kashi and yogurt. It's a very compact shopping list. But whenever I see her, she makes a point to tell me how sick of peanut butter she is.
When the server came to clear the plates we both commented on how full we were. I was fighting a smile because my favorite part of going out to eat with her was coming up.
My money was on, "Do you want to get a brownie at People's?" But nothing. 10 minutes we sat there, not a single mention of confection. I was mid-sentence and she goes, "Oh my God-- Ben and Jerry's. They have an oatmeal cookie ice cream. You have to try it." I was a little disappointed because in my rules, this didn't necessarily count.
"Um, I don't know, I feel kinda sick from all that yam."
"Oh really? Not even a baby cone? I could really just go for something sweet."
Mint, please.
Magnolia's makes a quality cheeseburger, which she got, and I have to say, that was a little hard. I've been a vegetarian for a few months now and loving it("you still eat beef though, right?"-Steve Martin), but who doesn't love a cheeseburger? Come on now. When the food came out I looked down at my yam sandwich and it goes, "Yeah, I know. I'm sorry." It was a little trippy but I accepted it's apology. Who doesn't love a talking yam? Come on now.
But Karla was going on about how hungry she was because all she'd had all day was some kashi and pb&j. Let me tell you why this is hilarious. Karla has been living off the same 3 foods for about, um, all time? If she's not out to eat she's eating apples, pbj sammy's or kashi and yogurt. It's a very compact shopping list. But whenever I see her, she makes a point to tell me how sick of peanut butter she is.
When the server came to clear the plates we both commented on how full we were. I was fighting a smile because my favorite part of going out to eat with her was coming up.
My money was on, "Do you want to get a brownie at People's?" But nothing. 10 minutes we sat there, not a single mention of confection. I was mid-sentence and she goes, "Oh my God-- Ben and Jerry's. They have an oatmeal cookie ice cream. You have to try it." I was a little disappointed because in my rules, this didn't necessarily count.
"Um, I don't know, I feel kinda sick from all that yam."
"Oh really? Not even a baby cone? I could really just go for something sweet."
Mint, please.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
