Friday, May 28, 2004

I just spent the last half hour trying to get stupid office printer to print two pages of mailing labels. (Give them to me, you evil machine, you! RAR!) I retaliated by making it print: "I am a printer and I SUCK ASS!" over and over, two-sided.

Muahaha.

Technology, 1,657. Maddy, 1.

posted by m at 2:49 PM



Thursday, May 27, 2004

Last night's dream: I was standing in front of the mirror in B's bathroom, squeezing this juicy whitehead on the bridge of my nose. I leaned into the mirror and squeezed, and squeezed, until out popped... a pea! I rolled it between my fingers and thought, "Wow, it's fascinating, the things that you can find in your nose!"

I told the dream to B this morning.

"You're right. That is a gross dream," he said, making a face.

posted by m at 9:47 AM



Wednesday, May 26, 2004

We tried out a new (to us) ramen noodle restaurant for lunch today.

The restaurant had this thing where you can pick how spicy you want your ramen noodles to be. It's ingenious, really, because all they have really done is give the whole "mild, medium, hot" thing more gradients, and assign them numbers (1 through 8). Instant gimmick. And the geeky bits of you just can't resist it. You start with, say, a "5" soup, and then the next time you go, you can try to ratchet it up to a "3" soup, to a "1" soup, and finally up to "special 2" soup, which apparently is the five-alarm spicy ramen that beats up all the other spicy ramen after school. And if you can eat it all within 30 minutes, you get to post up a polaroid of yourself up on the wall of spicy ramen fame.

Because that kind of feat deserves recognition, really.

posted by m at 5:38 PM



Tuesday, May 25, 2004

because it does.

The best thing about Los Angeles, is that there are more In-n-Out burger drive-thrus here, than any other place in the universe.

Me: Grilled cheese, with grilled onion, light on the spread, and a Diet Coke.
B: Double-double with fries, well done, and an extra large Sprite.

(three minutes later)

B: You're finished already? We're not even home yet! Aren't you supposed to wait for me to eat?
Me: It tastes better in the car. You're supposed to finish it before you get home.
B: What about McDonalds? You don't eat McDonalds in the car...
Me: We don't eat McDonalds anymore, remember?
B: You mean YOU don't eat McDonalds anymore.
Me: Mmmm... Something like that.

(munchy moment of silence)

B: So why is it that In-n-Out burgers taste so much better in the car?
Me: (chews thoughtfully on a fry) I think, that it is not for us to question.
B: (sighs.)

posted by m at 9:43 PM



Monday, May 24, 2004

actually, boredom is the mother of invention.

When I got into the environmental field, I pictured much more wilderness-tromping, and much much less desk-sitting. The truth is, much of my day is spent in a cubicle, reviewing reports.

The rest of day, I spend doodling in the margins.




posted by m at 10:34 PM



Friday, May 21, 2004

The truth is that the world pivots mostly on small things--small movements, this way and that, that make the small differences that matter most.

Got my car back, yesterday. And the whole world is colored differently. Birds are singing, the air is clearer, food tastes more delicious, people are more clever, and I think there might even be an end to nuclear arms and mean DMV employees. If there isn't, there should!

posted by m at 6:59 PM



Wednesday, May 19, 2004

it's a work in progress.

According to the very funny sarah b., there are two kinds of love: the prescriptive kind (you-are-exactly-what-I-have-been-searching-for) and the "punched the throat" kind (you-are-everything-I-never-knew-I-wanted-so-desperately).

I confess, I have loved prescriptively. E is the person in the world I most wish was a boy so I could marry her and love her forever. In her absence, I realize that I am slowly trying to convert my boy in some version of her.

But there is only one of E.

Me: Do you think of yourself as schemey? (pronounced: scheme-mee)
B: What do you mean by schemey?
Me: Schemey. You know, like you have lots of schemes for things. Schemey.
B: Well, I have this goal to play at all the different golf courses in LA County. I'm about a third of the way there, or so. Is that a scheme?
Me: Hmmm. Kind of. It would be more of a scheme if you had a chart or something. Or if you felt that your playing at a zillion different golf courses would somehow figure into your eventual goals for total world domination.
B: I think I'm too lazy to make a chart.
Me: Actually following through on the scheme is not as important to being schemy as just having the scheme in the first place. Laziness is really the only thing that keeps E and I from becoming despotic leaders of our own small island nations.
B: I see. Maybe I'm not schemy then.
Me: Maybe not.
(Pauses thoughtfully.)
Me: We'll have to work on that.

posted by m at 6:05 PM



Tuesday, May 18, 2004

On hold with the auto body shop again. Today's hold music: "This Kiss, This Kiss" by Faith Hill.

This is officially Day 13, without a car.

The biologist who sits at the cubicle opposite me (this ends up being a weird relationship, because we talk through a six foot cubicle wall all day, but never really actually SEE each other), has affirmed my suspicions that they have already sold my car on eBay. Bastards.

posted by m at 11:31 AM



Wednesday, May 12, 2004

There was a man on the train today--a rather large man--in an inside-out navy sweatshirt, who offered up his seat to an older lady in a flowery straw hat and a printed cotton skirt suit. It was really the nicest thing that happened all day.

posted by m at 3:26 PM



Monday, May 10, 2004

what the world needs, really.

I was sitting at yet another year's Mother's Day buffet brunch, when I randomly heard the word "sex" float by. I looked up, and spotted dirty old sex talk man at the next table, talking AT THE VERY TOP OF HIS LUNGS in very graphic terms about sex: about what kinds of lubricants he's tried, what kinds of positions he likes. Lady at the table to our right and I had a small eye-contact gross-out moment... Like, hello? Ew?! I mean, come on--it's MOTHER'S DAY! I'm here WITH MY MOTHER! Dirty loud old sex talk man is now number one on my list of people you don't want meet at Mother's Day buffet brunch. And possibly EVER.

On the other end of the old man spectrum, I was driving my car to the auto body place on Friday, and I pulled up at this red light next to a van in the left turn lane. I was car dancing to AAR, with my windows down, when I heard someone rapping on a window. I looked to my left, and in the van's passenger seat was awesome rocking-out old chinese guy, giving me the thumbs up, and rocking out with me! So we had a little inter-generational rock-out moment. Which is what the world needs, really: more rocking-out old chinese men. And less of the dirty loud sex talk men. Please?

posted by m at 3:48 PM



Monday, May 03, 2004

rules which should be simple.

Sunday afternoon and evening were devoted to sad movie night. This is a long-standing personal tradition of "getting your blues out"--where I sit in the dark and eat junk and watch sad movies and cry. For hours. I like to think of it as a way to sit still for a bit and let myself be unashamedly sad, in someone else's fiction. (Best sad movie night pick, possibly ever: Dancer in the Dark.) I find that after a good sad movie night cry, it's just easier to pick up and go on with things.

Sad movie night is probably best solo, but as a group event has two BASIC RULES:
(1) No talking about sad movie night movies after-the-fact. No appraising them, or critiquing them--the point is not that the movies are good or bad or cheesy or stupid, but rather, that they are sad. Period.
(2) No need to talk about why you're actually sad. In fact, the beauty of sad movie night is that you don't even need to know why you're sad. You cry at the movies. The movies allow you to cry. Afterwards, you eat dinner sadly in contemplative silence. Then, you get on with things.

I, myself, went on to make the most disastrous flan in the history of flan-making. (What do you do when the custard just won't get... custardy?) And then, went happily to bed.

B showed up in the middle of things (post-movie beginning and pre-disastrous flan), and plopped himself right down into it. Now, you would think that if you apprise someone of the BASIC RULES of sad movie night, they would simply shut-up and roll with things, right?

B: That was a sad movie. But I liked it. You cried a lot. I don't know if I like sad movie night, if it makes you so sad.
Me: It doesn't MAKE you sad, it helps you get your sad out.
B: So, why are you sad?
M: (Sighs loudly.)

And that is how you can, in the space of less than a minute, violate both basic rules of sad movie night, thus justifiably causing your head to be squeezed off by your understandably exasperated girlfriend.

posted by m at 10:36 AM



Saturday, May 01, 2004

ambiance.

I wonder who invented the concept of "ambiance"... ? You know, those psychedelic moving fractal-ish forms that come up when you pop a CD into Windows Media Player? Like who thought that ANYone would want to sit around at stare at "ambiance" when there is so much internet left to niffle through?

posted by m at 4:17 PM



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