March 12, 2008
So, today, this old man hit on me at Starbucks. And by old, I mean ancient. He actually gave me his business card and asked me what size underwear I wore. Imagine someone who makes your father look like a young buck asking you if he can purchase a pair of size five undies for you.
Yeah, it’s been that kind of day.
I should have politely informed him that I have no objection to calling the police to the middle of a Downtown coffee shop, and, although I don’t personally believe in carrying weapons, I have several southern relatives with rather erratic temperaments that do.
I should have said, “I believe it was Bernard Shaw who said, when asked what the difference is between being an old man and a young man, ‘women regard your advancements with pity rather that disdain.’”
” Sir,” I should have continued, “Take comfort in the fact that I regard your advancements with disdain.”
Instead, I muttered, “I have a boyfriend.”
March 11, 2008
I’ve become obsessed with antioxidents. It’s part of my anti-aging routine. I’m obsessed with aging, BTW. It gives me something to think about, you know, in the wake of my inevitable death and demise. Maybe, at the very least, I can control how much dangerous UVA and UVB light is reaching my delicate skin. And I can kill all the dangerous oxidents that attack every cell in my body every single day. That’s where the anti-oxidents come in.
So, because I’m crazy, (meaning conscientious of my diet and slightly over-educated on anti-aging cream), I’ve decided to incorporate as many antioxidents into my diet/lifestyle as possible.
Did you know wine has antioxidents? Beer? Chocolate? They do…well some kinds anyway. And that sure makes my life easier. Well, more interesting, maybe not easier.
However, the most fun part of this, is the descriptions you find on these products…products that probably aren’t very good for you, but are suddenly claiming to be because of their magical anti-oxident properties, like this one for Berry Ice Cream:
Found exclusively in the Brazilian rainforest, the exotic Açai berry’s royal purple pigment is a potent source of antioxidants, vitamins and minerals. Açai has been enjoyed for decades by the people of Brazil, who typically eat the pulp as an energizing snack throughout the day.
Oh why have the Brazilians been enjoying this treat for years when I, a god-fearing and money-laden American have not tasted it until just now! Why have I not been enjoying this energizing snack throughout my day! All I’ve had is dark chocolate and heart healthy nuts until now! The world is so unfair! Wait, how do you pronounce “acai?”
March 10, 2008
I think this means the magazine people aren’t going to pay me…..
“For those that are selected, we hope to establish a relationship that would lead to a percentage of ad sales on your page. If you are interested in this opportunity, please respond with your ideas and articles. I hope you are as excited as we are!”
Woo (cough) hoo.
February 15, 2008
1. Don’t use self-mythologizing anecdotes. You aren’t old enough or successful enough to get away with it yet.
2. Always wear deoderant
3. Sometimes you should throw the baby out with the bathwater-certain dreams are for suckers. Meaning people who aren’t making any money.
4. Don’t vote republican. Some dreams aren’t for suckers.
5. All British people are classier than you. Even the cockney ones.
February 13, 2008
The above is an IHOP “happy face.” In my lifetime, I have served 345 of these. Give or take a few.
As a teenager I worked at IHOP. On Thursdays. If I worked there now, in a society sensitive to the needs of those in the customer-service industry, they’d call me a “pancake artist,” but alas this was 1998 and such new-age thinking had not yet been successfully implemented. Unless you lived on the West Coast. Where they also regularly ate hummus.
Thursday night was “balloonimal” night. A clown named Fred would come in and make the kiddies balloons in the shape of various animals. By various I mean three. He had talent enough to create exactly three animals: giraffe, dog, bird.
If you were a small child and didn’t like one of those, you were SOL. I suspect Fred didn’t lack ability, just ambition. I never really saw him practice his craft in his downtime.
In fact, mostly, I saw Fred smoking weed with the cooks.
But maybe that was just artistic exploration.
February 12, 2008
I was surfing the internet this morning and came along “Walter Potter-Taxidermist.” The above is one of his many creations. Apparently, he specialized in turning groups of small dead animals into story book scenes way back in the 1800’s before Peta came along and ruined taxidermy for everyone.
Much to my dismay I started “ooing” and “ahing.”
I started negotiating the legitimacy of my awe and the ethics of Potter’s creation with myself. “Well,” I bargained, “these kitties would be dead anyway…It’s not like they’d be hopping around right now. And now everyone can enjoy them. They’re kittens and they’re drinking tea!”
Then I imagined some child, preferably a cute little girl wearing some kind of bow in her hair, a little girl who doesn’t belong to me, who I don’t have to feed or care for, “oohing” and “ahing” over the very same scene. And I smiled to myself, because I knew that that scene would be so cute and I wouldn’t be the one who’d have to explain to her that they were dead kitties, because she has parents to do that, and I’m not her parent, I’m just a silly passerby who will smile at her and think it’s all so damn adorable. Because they are kitties! And they are drinking tea! And eating CRUMPETS!
