More fun than Mayonnaise... or at least equally fun... OK, it's less fun, but you're still reading...
More fun than Mayonnaise... or at least equally fun... OK, it's less fun, but you're still reading...
Yesterday, I met a coworker’s dog, who was much more disheveled than I had ever imagined. “Ron” is a single man with no children and I had always assumed he would treat his dog like a spoiled kid: well groomed French poofs on the tail, nicely-ironed button-down shirts for every occasion, Sunday trips to the ice-cream parlor wearing miniature Rockport shoes to match his brown walking shoes. Ron would turn his dog into a four-legged mini-him.
Today at lunch, Ron was quite taken with a cross-dressing can collector. The way he looked over her checkered mini-skirt and sideways blond quaff was signal enough for the rest of us to “go get more food.” After we left, their hands met for a moment as he presented her with an empty Fanta can, which (s)he instantly crushed--like his heart--before throwing it into a dirty, plastic bag.
Watching those size-12 heals sashay away, I finally realized why Ron hadn’t dressed up his dog: he was probably afraid of what people would think if they saw him in a sundress and Alfred at his side, wearing a Persian Kitten outfit.
Last night was my first ever improv show and I loved it. I think it went as well as any of us could have hoped... and I was very impressed with not only the quantity, but quality of my friends that showed up: thanks for coming!
Usually I get REALLY nervous before big events (upset stomach for days sometimes).... but I wasn't nervous at all for this show. That's because improv is subjective. Unlike a piano recital, there is right or wrong note to play.... and I loved the rush of having to make stuff up off the top of my head: it reminded me of directing live news.... however, I was paranoid all day long (will the sun wear me out before the performance, will "non-routine" food upset my stomach, are the illuminati somehow funding this event?)
All said and done, I'm going to take their next class and try out for their improv "minor league"....
Seinfeld was interrupted tonight with tornado warnings to my north, so I jumped in my car and drove to the grocery store (but no ominous, spiraling squall lines were to be seen). However, while I was checking expiration dates on carrot bags, the power went out. In those dark, 5 seconds, I plotted my course out of the store (through produce watching out for the cheese display), decided how long I would stay in the dark (2-3 minutes) and wondered if I had any essential groceries to buy (nothing urgent).
After the lights flicked on, everybody smiled at each other for the next 10 minutes because we all shared the experience of worrying in the dark. Nobody mentioned it, but we were bonded and wondered what the others were thinking/doing in the dark.
Shared experiences like this one explain why my kindergarten girlfriend and I failed… our lives diverged completely at first grade and it’s been 20 years since we had a remotely similar experience.
Shared experiences underpin my urge to break from a new group of friends (and people my own age in general): there is nothing we all want to do together.
Shared experiences lurk beneath my urge to study mythology. I want to tap into the fundamental archetypes of every Earthly civilization.
I crashed another neighborhood's block party this weekend (the smell of free sugar hung over Hamline like a dense, moist fog of cotton candy) where I ran into the childhood version of me. He was circling around the adults without interacting with anyone... he was the only child wearing a helmet even though the other kids were playing rougher sports than "independent, low-speed, recreational scootering".... his bottom lip was covered in chocolate... every second or third pass around the block, he would buzz by the refreshments table and steal a cupcake. His interaction with women was limited to one little girl who happened to have a cupcake. The interaction terminated when the cupcake was gone and he realized he would have to go elsewhere for his sugar fix. I have never seen someone eat so much frosting so quickly. To put it frankly, I was proud of the little tyke.
(1) My comedy class went late and I stayed up an hour past my bedtime.
(2) An old college friend (who I haven't seen much this last year) called right before bed to say she is in the third stage of alcoholism. You simply can't tell someone: "Yeah, excuse me... aaah... don't take this the wrong way, but it's my bedtime.... could we maybe talk about your life crippling battle tomorrow?"
(3) Huge, echoing thunderous claps woke me up and kept me awake. I was so mad I had to get up and look out my window to know who I could blame: the local train company or the clouds. Unfortunately, it was God and his clouds, so I guess I'll let this one slide.
For Heather, more Feng Shui tips from the article:
I have 14 issues of Midwestern Home and Garden, 4 ugly pottery projects and a broken computer (among other things) sitting on my dining room floor. The pile of junk has plagued me long enough.
I started reading the magazines on the bus today and I learned about Feng Shui and Tea Ceremonies. Cluttered rooms are often a sign of cluttered lives… too many people making too many demands on you… choking out the important things. That’s how I feel. I don’t need to drop friends until my circle of friends shrinks to a line, but I have started throwing out old clothes, my old computer, and pottery I regretted making. My goal is to get the junk wall under control… then I can tackle my life and put an end to dreams about annoying people calling my cell phone… where I just clip the cell phone on my hip and let them talk until they hang up. I have no interest in their sob stories.
I just got back from “drinks” with a Kindergarten friend I haven’t seen in about 20 years. I always hate trying to gage how everything went and what protocol is necessary when. As far as I’m concerned, she could have been madly in love with me (as most women are when I wear a button-down shirt) or she could have despised every nanosecond she spent with me (like most women who know me better). I am completely unable to differentiate between those two reactions and uninterested in imagining any others.
Before we even agreed on a time, I would have liked a prelunchial agreement stating how the greeting, billing and goodbying would be taken care of.
This afternoon, I blogged about getting a new TV... but I blogged to blog. I had nothing to say. I just wanted to blog since it had been a while since I blogged. Later today, I decided this kind of blogging is gratuitious and unnecessary... so I vowed to only blog when I felt like blogging.... but that seems like an easy way out. Blogging should be something you are comitted to and do even when you don't "feel like it." Any thoughs, oh veteran loggers (vloggers)?
The apartment has a new entertainment system from IKEA and a new TV from Best Buy. My roommate just got his first paycheck and it didn't take long for button down shirts and entertainment systems to start popping up. I don't know what it is about my roommates, but everyone I live with buys a new TV after moving in. I've been using the same 13" one for years. The sound's a little fuzzy, but everything else works. Who really wants to see Don Knotts at life size?
I love movies like Adaptation because they teach us the importance of change.... one of the hardest and most rewarding things a human will face.
Today at work, I had to combat a technical dilemna and I realized that I would never be able to adaquately solve this problem until I stopped thinking about it "the old way".... As much as I hated the new way, it resolved my issue, was faster and more efficient. Damn.
I saw the latest batman tonight and it was by far my favorite... Christopher Nolan nailed Gotham on the head. Again, a major change of director/cast greatly improved the movie.
I changed the battery in my alarm when I got home.
Tomorrow I vow to repot some plants.
Due to the popularity of “10 Things”, I decided to make a list of stuff that happened to me today. But given my propensity towards pithy posts (and the looming summer malaise), I only wrote 9 things:
Recreating NYC is easier said than done. This weekend I was walking in uptown, which I had always considered “crazy and crowded”… but you would sometimes have to go a whole block before there’d be another restaurant. When viewed as a substitute for NYC, it felt more like the desolation of the Sahara Desert with punk hair mirages.
And today I made hot dogs for dinner… an entrée I wouldn’t have been caught dead eating a month ago. I made sure to get as close to all beef as I could. It was heavenly with mustard, ketchup and raw onions.
Summers are tough because they are too relaxed. I perform well under pressure (loved directing live TV news!) and I don't know what to do with myself when there are no deadlines and projects to do. I guess that's why I have been looking into (1) more summer comedy classes, (2) planning a trip to South America, (3) getting my masters in creative writing and (4) learning how to pilot a plane.
This weekend's highlights included:
Last night I dreamt that I was on a cruise of Antarctica (not very strange since I have been drooling over Antarctic cruise brochures for two days in hopes of combining it with a trip to Incan Ruins in Peru). Anyway, the polar ice caps ended up being a sham and Antarctica is actually a large rock sitting on a shallow ocean floor. The temperature is warm and I was in my swim suit. As I swam around Antarctica, I realized that it was the brain of the Earth, which controlled the entire ecosystem. As I got closer to the cerebellum, I threw a penny onto the brain for good luck. Lord only knows why I did that. Suddenly I realized I had disrespected the Earth and that a highly advanced tribe of beings would now have to kill me (and that the Earth would also be trying to kill me). I woke up in a cold sweat and had to walk around a bit or I never would have been able to fall back asleep.
How do you do explain 'maginary Numbers to someone who screams bloody murder when her toes gets near the numbers pond? With chocolate.
Checking out of the grocery store, you see a wrapper that says "Reese's Peanut Butter Cups".... how would someone make that candy bar? Simple. They would take two identical peanut butter cups and cram them into a wrapper. Not too hard, is it?
But you scan the shelf a little more and see a wrapper that says "Reese's Anti-gravity Livercoated Margarine Balls".... how would someone make that candy bar? They can't! RAGLMBs don't exist. They're an imaginary candy bar (Thank God!). However, based on the wrapper, we know that you would take two identical Anti-gravity Livercoated Margarine Balls and cram them into a wrapper.... just like we did with the Peanut Butter Cups. Even though packs of RAGLMBs don't exist, we can still figure out how they're made by using imaginary components.
And that's basically what mathematicians do. It was impossible to solve certain problems, so they invented imaginary numbers. Who said mathmaticians weren't creative?
I read a lot of "offbeat" news, but every now and again I run across some story so bizarre it makes me wonder. Today a woman tried to smuggle fish into Australia under her skirt. "Customs officers found 51 live tropical fish hidden under her skirt."
Today some friends came over for the first time ever and they were shocked at how unorganized my room appeared. The comment has been sitting at the back of my head all evening and I think my room appears unorganized because I need a studio: too much is happening in the bedroom! (never thought I would say that...) I am in the middle of writing a play, poetry collection, comedy routine, autobiographical story and many other things. All of these projects have notes, papers, and ideas associated with them that I like to keep out (read: I need to keep out). Since my bedroom only has about 2 square feet of available countertop space (and a narrow band 2.5’x10’ for walking), the projects just pile on top of each other. Maybe I need to build upwards like the city I just visited.
When I used to take late night walks in Fargo, I watched a neighbor empty a bunch of garbage from their car into the neighborhood.... so I picked it all up after they had driven off and crammed it all into their mailbox. I think that would be a full time job in NYC.
Wandering at night
Once busy streets dead quiet
Onerous with sweat
Eighty-six stories
I follow each little coooo
The rat of the sky
Soft droplets reflect
Steel and glass in a pool of
Water and urine
Five hundred people
go to little italy
to eat spaghetti
Downtown Manhattan
Cathedrals built to commerce
Block most of the sky