this is getting ridiculous.

'i have an impeccable memory' or 'who are you? oh. hey ma.'

2008-03-17T21:17:00.000-07:00

my memory confuses me. for the most part, i forget everything. i'm constantly berated for forgetting "vital" and "fascinating" details about friends' lives: their majors in school, what they do for a living, their dreams, etc. my inability to remember anything has annoyed me to the point where i actually decided to improve my brain's agility, memory, and overall well-being by buying a pack of mensa problem solving cards from the local toy store one gloomy sunday. i convinced three other friends to do the same, and we sat in a bar for the rest of the afternoon drinking guinness and hunched over the table scratching our heads.

it was the right ratio of nerdy and superfun, and our brains managed to slyly circumvent the secret competitiveness among us by making us each good at different things: ashley with the color problems, cathy with the number puzzles, stefania with the word questions, and me with the spatial orientation ones. turns out that we all sucked at the narrative problems (a man is found dead in a forest surrounded by village idiots and one purple panda...how did he die, etc etc), and we announced that the answers to all of those were 'STUPID,' anyway. out loud. and louder, around the third beer.

'what's so confusing about the fact that you're retarded, annie?' i hear you asking rudely. oddly enough, there are very particular things that i remember very vividly, and for no apparent reason.

--------------------------

exhibit a. this article that the weekend journal once published on air spores in five-star hotels

i started reading the wall street journal when i was in high school, not because i was an obnoxious overachiever, but because my dad subscribed to it and it was always looking sad on the coffee table all by its lonesome. every friday, they come out with the weekend journal, which publishes front page articles that are always random and usually interesting.

i was having lunch with one of the mumbai beat reporters for the journal recently, and he was telling me all about his experiences reporting for bloomberg before moving to the wsj. he was pretty chatty, so i wasn't worried about the conversation dying, but i usually start feeling like i should be actively contributing to a conversation after i've been silent for a minute or so.

'hey!' i interjected with the air of someone who has something interesting to say. 'did you know anyone who ever wrote for the weekend journal?' he blinked twice. 'because i remember this GREAT article they published on the front page of that section once that was about air quality in five-star hotels. they took all of these petri dishes and set them down in some of the top hotels in a few metropolitan cities and let them sit around for awhile. the results were pretty revolting. i thought it was really interesting.'

why do i remember this article? i think my brain is malfunctioning, and would like to exchange it for a different one.

--------------------------

exhibit b: a photo of my friend ben on the front page of the health section in the nytimes in 2002

about 6 months after i started working at my current job, this new kid who looked vaguely familiar started working there, and we eventually became friends. during one conversation, he mentioned that he'd once been on the front page of the health section of the new york times.

'wait.' i said. 'were you sitting on your bed?' i asked. 'mm hmm,' he said. 'were you on the top bunk?' he stared at me. 'and were you wearing a gray shirt with blue lettering?' i rambled, channeling the nyt archives.

so. i remembered a photo on the front page of a section of the times that no one reads, of someone i didn't know, three years prior to this conversation.

----------------------------

the forgetting part i can understand. the renegade part that latches onto particular images and bits of useless of information is the part that i'd like dissected later. is it a different density than the rest? is it cross-wired to a completely different section? is there a crayon lodged in it?

Civility

2008-02-10T17:00:00.000-08:00

i am the youngest of three daughters. this is awesome for many reasons, including getting mellowed-out parents, lots of clothes, and not having to answer the door and carry on polite small talk when boring distant relatives or family friends come to visit.

however - it also means that i have little to no aptitude for making courteous chit chatter with these people. even at 26, i still have strong urges to run to my room and play solitaire on the computer when my parents' friends come to sit in the living room with my parents to drink tea and eat crunchy taiwanese snacks.

my friend's in-laws live in delhi, and they graciously offered to host me for dinner on one of my last nights in india. how lovely! i thought. they're around my parents' age, and are sweet and adorable. lok, the father, had just come home from work and was wearing a wool crepe navy suit and a cute navy hat. nirupma, the mother, was dressed casually in a t-shirt and flowy pants, and had glasses.

they showed me into the living room, which has a lovely sitting area filled with custom made, well-designed furniture (dark wooden end tables with glass tops), and beautiful paintings that were done by niru. niru filled some glass bowls with peanuts and almonds, lok made all of us small glasses of gin to sip, and we all leaned back and crossed our legs in anticipation of civilized conversation.

this night, i learned that this is what civilized people talk about:

petrol, the 1 lakh tata, traffic in delhi vs mumbai, and sustainable energy
the busy indian social calendar, and is it gauche to wear the same outfit to multiple weddings if you are to attend more than 10 weddings during one winter?
the fine art of buying a nice, hand-woven rug. also, what's the difference between rugs and carpets?
american almonds vs indian almonds. why are indian almonds so much more delicious?

this was a startling contrast from my usual conversation fare. examples:

how many penises have you seen? were they big or small?
would you rather have a butt on your forehead or two little legs coming out of your chin? yes, you must choose one.
if i had a kajillion dollars, i would buy a yacht. no, an island. no, wait - i would pay someone really smart to invent teleportation.

after nuts and gin, we ventured to the dining room for dinner. we had a nice, brothy mixed vegetable soup to start (which i had seconds of). perfectly salted, and very comforting. for dinner, niru went into kitchen and brought out some freshly warmed halved rolls that she had spread with a little bit of butter and cheese. 'put these in between,' she said, gesturing toward the plate of sliced red onions and plum tomatoes on one end, and fried potato balls on the other end.

'aah,' i said. i like it when people tell me how i'm supposed to eat things when i don't know what to do, especially when everyone's politely waiting on me to go first because i'm the guest.

i separated some of the outer rings of onion from the inner ones to avoid overpowering post-dinner breath, took two tomato slices, and squashed a potato ball into the bottom section of the roll with my fork. i ate self-consciously; not so quickly as to suggest that i was the crazy forest lady who hadn't eaten for weeks, but not too slowly to imply that i didn't thoroughly enjoy the meal. like i said, people my parents' age make me nervous.

for dessert, we had finely diced fruit (apples, pears, oranges, grapes, kiwis, etc) soaked in cold cream.

on the way home, i thought about how, despite the fact that we'd only discussed things that i

hadn't known many details about,
hadn't spent much time thinking about, and
wasn't naturally interested in, what a lovely time i'd had, and i settled in the backseat with a feeling of comfort.

then it occurred to me that they'd reminded me a lot of my parents. my dad is chatty and my mom is more shy; we sit around and talk about things i don't know much about, eat dinner, and call it a night. it's always nice to recruit a couple of nice people to be your parents when you are away.

blackberrys: not just for douchebags

2008-01-31T05:04:00.000-08:00

today was my last day in delhi, so i thought i ought to do my due diligence and see a couple of historical things i'd never bothered to see earlier during my stay. i had been foregoing them regularly, in shameless favor of sunday brunches at fancy hotels with unlimited champagne.

i had gotten a couple of recommendations on where to go from a few friends, and set off this morning armed with a hefty lonely planet book and my favorite driver, manoj. i like manoj because he speaks english well and we don't get offended when we take turns ignoring each other.

'we are going to qutb minar,' i told him. i was going because my friend of few words said it was 'peaceful.' peaceful is a good place to start, i thought.

i fell asleep in the car on the way to south delhi, as i always do. when i woke up 45 minutes later, we were there. manoj followed me to the ticket counter to make sure i didn't get gypped, and i whined at him like i whine at my father. 'manooooj, i can do this myself.' also like my dad, he ignored me, waited for the cashier to give me correct change, told me that he'd be waiting at the car for me when i was done, and walked away.

the outside of the qutb complex looks pretty plain. nothing too exciting; just a short brick wall and a squatty, unimpressive archway marking the entrance. however - the things on the other side are wonderful to look at. the grounds are wide and expansive, with tons of ruins well-spaced throughout the area. the generous amount of space is jarring: it's such a palpable contrast from the back to back kiosks jammed into each other throughout the rest of the city.

usually when i'm out and about, i feel like the city is always yelling at me like i've done something wrong. PEPSINOKIAAIRTELREEBOKTATATHERAYMONDSHOPPHILIPS. it was nice to come in and have the qutb minar open one eye and half wake up from its nap and go, 'mmmm. annie. whaddup. walk around. enjoy me. maybe get some tea from the little man near the entrance. zzzz.'

i wandered around and tried not to take horrible photographs.

qutb minar actually refers to this one particular really tall stone building that made my neck ache when i looked at it. that's quite tall, i said to myself. probably really old, too. mmhmm.

after sauntering around for awhile, i got annoyed with myself for being such a lazy traveler. i was in a place that was historically significant, and i had no idea why.

aha! i said. i know what to do. i pulled out my trusty blackberry from my pocket and looked it up on wikipedia. it says:

Inspired by the Minaret of Jam in Afghanistan and wishing to surpass it, Qutb-ud-din Aibak, the first Muslim ruler of Delhi, commenced construction of the Qutub Minar in 1193, but could only complete its basement. His successor, Iltutmish, added three more storeys and, in 1368, Firuz Shah Tughluq constructed the fifth and the last storey. The development of architectural styles from Aibak to Tuglak are quite evident in the minaret. Like earlier towers erected by the Ghaznavids and Ghurids in Afghanistan, the Qutub Mahal comprises several superposed flanged and cylindrical shafts, separated by balconies carried on Muqarnas corbels. The minaret is made of fluted red sandstone covered with intricate carvings and verses from the Qur'an. The Qutub Minar is itself built on the ruins of Lal Kot, the Red Citadel in the city of Dhillika, the capital of the Tomars and the Chauhans, the last Hindu rulers of Delhi.

The purpose for building this beautiful monument has been speculated upon. It can take the usual role of a minaret, calling people for prayer in the Quwwat-ul-Islam mosque, the earliest extant mosque built by the Delhi Sultans. Other possibilities are a tower of victory, a monument signifying the might of Islam, or a watch tower for defense.

hooray! knowing a little bit more than i did before, i felt less bad about myself and continued wandering around. my friend was right: it was lovely here. so peaceful and quiet and

YAAAAAAAAAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAY

a flood of screaming schoolgirls burst in through the gates.

i grew up in topeka, and when we were in grade school, we didn't wear adorable uniforms, skip around holding hands, or wear our hair in pigtails. in fact, i didn't even think these types of schoolgirls existed, except for inside stories of clever french schoolgirls named madeline.

but oh ho! how wrong i was. they're all in india, they all visit qutb minar on otherwise pleasant wednesday mornings, and they scream loudly when flocking from one ruin to another. i was about to cross a pathway when i saw hordes of them running toward me, so i hid behind a pillar until they had all flailed past. children scare me.

i only like children when they are bundled in winter clothes, like this baby i snuck a picture of.

i was almost immediately caught.

after i'd had enough, i walked back to the car and said, 'next! to chandni chowk.' the one word my friend had offered on chandni chowk, the most popular market in old delhi, was 'crowded.'

on our way, manoj started lecturing me about how crowded, unpleasant, and generally unsafe chandni chowk was, and tried to persuade me not to go. 'do you need to buy something?' he asked me. 'nah, i said.' 'then you just see from car,' he suggested, which i ignored.

traffic in delhi is terrible. qutb minar is in south delhi, and chandni chowk is in old delhi. they're 10 miles apart, and it took us an hour to drive there through mg road. thus, i took my second nap since waking up 4 hours earlier.

yo. cahndni chowk is not that impressive. i woke up, looked around, and said to manoj, 'ey! this looks like taiwan!' he didn't say anything. i looked up 'chandni chowk' on the bb to see if there was anything particular in the market worth seeing. i couldn't find anything, so manoj got his way and i stayed in the car.

i did, however, demand that we go to karims for lunch. karims came highly recommended from both the family who hosted me for diwali ('Karims at jahma masjhid for non-veg delicious,' he had written in my notebook), and a good friend who'd gone this past weekend ('the goat brain curry is really, really good just as long as you don't think about it being brain').

it's right by the oldest mosque in india, jahma masjhid, which is very close to chandni chowk, and therefore also in old delhi. manoj started to get stressed.

'i know karims is by jahma masjhid, but that area is very busy. where is it exactly?'

'beats me,' i said.

'what?' he asked, confused.

'i don't know,' i repeated.

we parked the car and he got out with me. 'i will help you find karims.' as soon as i started to protest he just started walking. he walks fast, so i had to do those goofy half skips behind him to be able to keep an eye on the back of his head.

this time he was right; karims was hard to find. he asked a few people on the way, and it was a good 5-7 minute walk from the car. at the door i said to him, 'do you want to have lunch with me?' he said, 'ahno. i bring my lunch so i take my lunch in the car in the parking lot.' pause. 'ok. here, you eat lunch. then, 5 minutes before you are finish you call me, and i come meet you on main street. so when you are done, you come outside and turn right and go to the main street. i will come get you there.' then he turned around and left.

i was seated at a table of four that already had two people sitting at it, a younger man and an older woman, probably his mother. i caught him eyeing my suspiciously several times while i was looking at the menu.

'you are from china?' he asked.

'no, from california,' which is what i say when i feel like confusing people.

'ah,' he said, not understanding and furrowing his brow, but not asking further. then, a few minutes later:

'what are you doing here?'

'working. on business. in delhi.'

'oh,' he said, his face easing into a look of more comfort.

'in IT firm?'

'yes,' i replied. 'what do you think i should get?' i asked him, overwhelmed with the choices, and not wanting to try brain on my own.

'non-veg?' he asked.

i nodded. he took my menu from me, squinted at it for 30 seconds, and offered, 'the butter chicken, half order. ...yes. that will be nice.'

a bustly waiter tossed a plate of sliced red onions with a lime slice in front of me and whirled away. i was starving, so i snacked on them, even though they are neither filling or delicious.

when my food came, it was rich and tasty. the naan was puffy and the chicken was tender.

as i munched, it occurred to me that i hadn't printed out my flight itinerary for my early morning flight the next day back to sf. indian airports have about a billion different checkpoints for travelers, the first of which is a check to even enter the airport, which you need a printed itinerary for.

i got out the bb and searched for my itinerary to forward to my roommate to print out at the office for me. just for kicks, i decided to read my itinerary again. mmm 7am thursday, yes. arriving 10:30am, yes. mmm. departing newark? that's weird. mmm.

my eyes skipped up and i read wed, jan 30, 11:55pm...depart delhi.

'ah, fuck,' i said out loud. IT man across the table frowned in my direction. my flight was that night.

as i was hastily finishing lunch, IT man reached into his bag and handed me something from across table.

'my business card,' he said. 'just in case your company needs anything.'

'thank you,' i said, slipping it into my right coat pocket, thinking about how much more efficient it would be if my pocket were a trash can.

i called manoj per our 5-minutes-before-finish rule, and walked outside to meet him. i ended up waiting for manoj standing in front of a little man who was making these thin pancake-type things. he had a very efficient setup: there were 2 rows of 8 moderately sized dough balls each sitting obediently to his left. when he was ready for one, his left hand would shoot out, shove it onto the wooden board in front of him and start stamping it with his palm. he stamped it out until it was about the size of a coaster, at which point he picked it up and started tossing it around his fingers to stretch it out. when it was the size of a medium pizza, he casually flicked it to his right, where it landed perfectly onto a half dome skillet. as it started to brown, his left hand started in on the next one dough ball and started stamping.

he was very petite and wore very tight pants.

he caught me looking at him a few times, and gave me the same look that i give to people when i catch them doing the same. i got embarrassed, turned around, and tried to find interesting cars to look at as they drove by.

playoffs every day

2008-01-26T03:34:00.000-08:00

yesterday toward the end of the day, i was chatting with my colleague manoj, a good-natured, ultra-smart friend in the office. he's generally a quiet guy, very professional, and doesn't often initiate conversation, which is why i usually start obnoxious conversations with him not unlike the one i started with him yesterday. 'yoyoyo manoj. whaddup. what're you doing this weekend? clubbing? shoplifting? elephant taming?'

he giggled and said, 'oh no. just watching cricket. the last test matches of the series are this weekend. '

i keep forgetting that cricket is to india what baseball is to america, although they, along with almost all other televised sports, possess the same unique ability of putting me to sleep immediately. the only exception i can remember in recent history is when arizona was in the ncaa finals when i was a junior in high school, and there was some really good-looking guy on the team, so i watched every game. my dad was excited to have someone to talk about the games with, and although we were absolutely not the typical audience demographic, we enjoyed them. when the games were over, i would go back to my room and wonder what i was going to be when i grew up, and my dad would go back to reading the wall street journal, which is pretty much how i remember almost every day of high school ending.

i would like to take this opportunity to point out the fact that although i may not express any overt (or covert) interest in winners brackets in the context of sports, that it doesn't mean that i am disinterested in nice, healthy competition now and then.

observe:

this is essentially the same thing as:

congratulations, cheesecake! you were the most delicious dessert i had at brunch today, followed closely by fresh kiwis. pineapple came in third, and the strawberry mousse in an uninspired and distant fourth.

let's see how the two books i brought to brunch today fared in their battle:

hmmm. not sure how that happened.

ice

2008-01-13T08:16:00.000-08:00

a couple of weeks ago i went to a well-known market in delhi called dilli-haat. it's known for being one of the nicer markets in delhi, with lots of lovely crafts from all over the country, and decent food. i was meeting a friend from work there, and she was running a bit late, so i was hanging out by myself outside the entrance for a while. luckily, there was a monkey there to keep me company. here she is:

hello there! your fruit looks so fresh and delicious.

as it turned out, my friend was running very late, so i watched her for a while more. here she is, sunbathing:

here she is, minding her own business while some girls fawn over their digital cameras while their packages of purchases wait patiently:

outside of the entrance to dilli haat, there are a handful of men who walk around carrying unclean looking plastic thermoses and small plastic cups shouting 'chai coffee! chai coffee!' if you want some tea or coffee, you hand them 5 rupees (current conversion is 38 rupees/usd) , they give you a plastic cup, unscrew the appropriate thermos, and pour it hot into your cup. one was bellowing in our section and passed the monkey. a few paces past her, he stopped, thought for a minute, turned around, and walked back the way he came.

he came back 2 minutes later carrying one of his plastic cups filled with water and put it in front of her. instead of thanking him for being so thoughtful as any well-mannered monkey would do, she stared at him and he stared back.

for those of you who enjoy labeled objects and maximizing photos to make them readable:

at this point, my friend called to let me know that she was very close, so i hopped off of the ledge where i was sitting across from the staring contest to get in line to buy two 15 rupee tickets for entrance into the market.

the market was, in fact, nice and lovely. it's essentially a craft fair, where it seems that 40% of the stalls carry stoles and scarves, 30% carry junky jewelry, and the remaining 30% carry ganeshes made out of one material or another. this is ganesh:

he is one of the most popular hindu gods as the remover of obstacles, patron of arts and sciences, and god of intellect and wisdom. ganesh is very busy.

we walked around and chit chatted aimlessley. because i own plenty of random crap already, i didn't buy anything, although i did see a nice pair of large cubic zirconia earrings close to the exit. ooh! i thought. so sparkly. they were a good size; about the same diameter as the bottom of a chocolate chip. '200 rupees,' the girl said. '100,' i said. '150,' said her stallmate. 'hmpf,' i said, and walked away. my friend and i went on to run errands and have lunch at connaught place.

that was four weeks ago. ever since then, i've been thinking about the sparkly earrings. i went back to dilli haat to look for them today, but to no avail; they were nowhere to be found. rats.

then, my really dumb personality spoke up. not to worry! it said. you're a big girl now. you know what you should get? diamonds. forget this 150 rupee fake bullshit. get some serious rocks.

ok! i agreed enthusastically. i left delhi and asked the driver to take me back to the gold souk in gurgaon (where i live), which is basically a giant mall filled with gold and diamond stores. just as i was entering the mall thinking about how much everything inside was worth, a uniformed man carrying a gigantic rifle cut me off and i nearly had a heart attack.

i went into the first shop and asked for diamond solitaire earrings. he brought out some diamonds that looked like he had gone just inside the entrance of the closest supermarket, reached in his pocket, pulled out a quarter, turn-locked it into a gumball type of machine, and received a small plastic ball with a colored top in exchange. he probably threw away the little piece of paper that comes with it and the sealed plastic pouch it came in and handed it to me directly.

bah! why are you showing me this garbage, i said on the inside. 'thank you very much,' i said on the outside as i stood up to leave.

i went to another store, and they proceeded to show me earrings i swear i bought at a claire's in the topeka kansas mall in the fifth grade.

i entered a third store and said, 'earrings. solitaires. huge.' the lady disappeared and returned with a small box. she opened it, and i was blinded. they were exactly what i wanted: simple, sparkling, and 1.6 carats each.

as i was giving bedroom eyes to the earrings in hopes that they would steal away with me stealthily, i remember an indian friend telling me about a story about how her aunt pulled her aside once and asked her if her husband was taking care of her. she'd noticed that she'd worn the same three pairs of nice earrings over and over again to a number of different functions, and when a woman wears jewels, it's a sign of the husband's financial health. if you don't wear enough bling, people start to worry. and when i say 'nice earrings,' it's serious. it's common for older women to tear their earlobes from weighty jewels and get them stitched up every couple of years.

gross. gross. gross.

now, to avoid this, preeti could have given her jewelry up and gotten it remade it into something new so her overzealous auntie wouldn't have noticed. apparently, women do with this with some regularity (once every five years or so). they pack up all of their gold, go to a jeweler, and have them melt it all down and turn it into new jewelry. they lose around 20% of the value of the gold due to losses during the melting and restructuring process, and this doesn't include the labor costs for the new designs.

what's the point of me telling you all this? ice is a big deal. BIG. a girl told me that she went to a wedding where the bride's parents gave the groom's sister a pair of 6 lakh (1 lakh = 100,000 rupees = $2500 usd) diamond earrings. it makes me wish that diamonds were a big deal in taiwanese culture. when i told my mom today that i wanted to buy myself a pair of diamond earrings, she snorted and told me to eat more vegetables.

at this point, a voice interrupted my inner monologue. 'these are nine lakh, forty-nine thousand six-hundred seventy-five,' she said. i looked up at her. what? '949,675,' she said again.

this is $24,190.12 usd.

tata just launched the new and impressively cost efficient 1 lakh car at the delhi auto show this week. this means that i could either buy these earrings, or nine and a half cars. if you're interested in knowing more about the 1 lakh tata, read my friend eric's article here.

i thought about all the gold and diamonds that families must accrue over the course of their lifetimes, and envisioned a treasure chest in my apartment overflowing with jewels, not unlike that treasure chest in goonies. i frowned when the mental picture of my apartment filled with jewels morphed into a mental picture of my apartment filled with 1 lakh tatas.

i actually look like this. no nose.

then i imagined myself wearing the diamond earrings:

not sure yet how i could ever justify this expense to myself, so until then, no earrings. perhaps i will ask ganesh! he might have some good advice.

henry james visits me in india. henry! over here. we're going thisaway!

2008-01-08T09:59:00.001-08:00

i knew almost nothing about india before i arrived. i had no idea where to go, what to see, or how to travel. luckily, almost every single conversation during my first few weeks revolved around the questions, 'where have you been?' and 'where are you going?' almost everyone named udaipur as a place i must absolutely go, and two trusted sources named it their favorite place in india.

what excellent recommendations! surely, i must go, i thought.

the way everyone raved about it, i expected to be punched in the face by impossible freshness, stunning beauty, and a saturated sense of satisfaction when i arrived. i poked my head out from the airplane exit and looked around. this looks like every other random indian airport, i grumbled as i walked down the airstairs.

perhaps the 30 minute ride into town will be more enthralling, i comforted myself.

as we bumped our way along the dirt roads, i searched for it. freshness, beauty, satisfaction. instead, i saw tiny alleys and average looking hostels. i was generally unimpressed.

the next day, i ventured around town. i chatted with people, boated around lake pichola, browsed local wares, soaked in oil during an ayurvedic massage, watched the locals doing their laundry along the banks, roamed around the city palace, indulged in rich foods, and haggled for gold sandals. all lovely, but not the enlightening experience i was expecting. where is the excitement? the overt fabulousness? the indisputable superiority?

i went to sleep that night annoyed.

the next day, i decided to stop trying. i woke up, sat upright, and yawned loudly. then i went back to sleep. a few hours later, i rolled out of bed and directly into a rooftop restaurant for lunch. here are the views from my lofted, cushioned seat.

front:

to my right:

to my far right. trying to get this picture to focus made my shoulder ache a little bit.

you can see the people doing their laundry on the steps there.

i ordered a bottle of wine and some salty snacks and reclined in my little alcove. aaaahhh, i thought. this is so lovely.

then it occurred to me. this is why this city is so enjoyable: sunny and pleasant weather, calm lake waters, generous rooftop views, charming local shops, and narrow streets made for sauntering. now i understand. i adjusted myself so that my face was in the sun, and drank my wine in little periodic sips.

why have i pretentiously used henry james' name in the title of this post? he wrote a story called 'beast in the jungle' about a man who has this feeling that something amazing is going to happen to him, and goes through his entire life waiting for this spectacular and magnanimous event. he doesn't do much of anything except wait for it, and lives his entire life in anticipation. in the end, of course, he dies without having done anything particular interesting with his life, and he finally realizes that life has passed him by.

so when i spotted henry across the restaurant, i waved him over. we got a second wine glass, and lounged in the alcove together.

The Joy of Watching Other People Cooking

2008-01-07T07:11:00.000-08:00

part i: this is a picture of nigella lawson.

i like nigella lawson.

i discovered her new cooking show on one of my billion tv stations. i have few friends in india, and have been watching her show quite often, so feel very comfortable calling her a quality friend i've met during my time in delhi.

her show is about cooking things quickly and easily, so her producers are constantly putting her in cheesily setup yet practical situations i appreciate. for example, the other night when she was back from commercial break, i caught her coming home late from a party. she was wearing a black dress and jewels, and the kitchen was dark. she was removing her earrings and talking in her becoming accent about how she was craving some treats.

if i were her, at this point i would order a steamy plate of spaghetti and meatballs from the dumpy yet reliable and delicious place downstairs. she, naturally, decides to whip up some delightful caramel croissant pudding.

she proceeds to break apart an old, buttery croissant with her manicured hands and put it into a perfectly sized and immaculately clean cast iron skillet. in the meantime, the caramel she started a couple of minutes ago, which is comprised of mystery ratios of sugar, water, milk, eggs, double cream, and bourbon, is looking runny and rich and creamy.

she pours it over the croissant, forces the more cheerily buoyant pieces down with a shining, long handled metal thing which she probably got from sur la table, and pops it into the oven.

if i become extraordinarily rich, hiring a camera crew and brilliant lighting directors to follow me around and fetishize my every mundane task in such an aesthetically luscious way would probably be #11 on my list of Things I Must Do Now That I am Ballerifically Wealthy.

part ii: this is a picture of paula deen.

i really like paula deen. you probably should too, considering how happy she looks sharing a photograph with a basket of fried chicken.

i discovered her one day while i was channel surfing on the treadmill at the gym. watching cooking shows on the treadmill is good for me, as it significantly decreases (but doesn't eliminate) the possibility that i'm going to go get something to eat and start munching during the show.

she's from georgia, and the things i love most about her are

the fact that almost everything she prepares involves mayonnaise, and
her ultrathick southern accent. i barely listen to what she's actually saying and let the vowels wash over me.

the only thing i can actually remember her making are sausage balls. or, if you prefer, sahseege bawls. every time she said it, i nearly fell off the treadmill.

part iii: this is a picture of the swedish chef.

i love the swedish chef!

i discovered the swedish chef when i was 7. this is a flattering picture of him, although i think part of the reason he looks so good is because of the sears glamourshot lighting behind him.

swedish chef and i have so many similarities. for example, his experience cooking eggs:

Eggs

The Chef attempts to make eggs by persuading a chicken to lay some. The chicken resists until he threatens her with a cleaver. At this point, the chicken lays something. The Chef picks it out from under her, only to realize that it is a bomb which promptly goes off.

this kind of junk happens to me all the time. i'm also a swedish muppet, which also adds to the similarities.

as varied as my short list of favorite cooking hosts may be, the only thing that will remain consistent throughout the annals of time is this: i hate cooking, i'll never do it, and everything i make tastes bad.

Love,

Annie
Epicurinot

monkeys are good, not great, or: boring christmas eve much improved by friendly south africans

2007-12-25T11:58:00.000-08:00

you'll noticed that i've taken the liberty of grossly abusing the concept of a 'subtitle' to mash together two completely separate thoughts. first, compliments: you are very observant! second, justification: i'm feeling nostalgic for college.

i'm in the himalayas this weekend. yesterday, i had some tiny adventures. here are the highlights:

food out of a dixie cup: not so bad!
monkeys: good, not great
indian guys who get skittish when addressed directly
cool south africans significantly improve christmas eve dinner

tiny adventure #1: food out of a dixie cup: not so bad!

i set out for a walk yesterday afternoon. about 20 minutes up the road, there's a decent strip of stores and coffee shops, interspersed with lookout points across the himalayas. there were tons of people running around, chattering loudly, taking pictures, and snacking. most people were snacking on one of three things: popcorn, ice cream, or tomato soup.

i must tell you about the magic of the tomato soup. all of the food kiosks here have that machine that usually houses the slurpee slush at 7Eleven. the one that has the clear plastic basin at the top with giant stirring arms, and a spout at the bottom for convenient dispensing.

instead of dispensing a half-gallon of cherry-flavored ice into a basin with a straw stuck in it and that requires two hands to hold, these dispense ultra hot and spicy water-based tomato soup. when you hand the guy 10 rupees ($0.25), he turns around, picks up a dixie cup, fills it from the 7Eleven machine, and drops some chives into it before he hands it to you. it's steamy and super salty and satisfying.

tiny adventure #2: monkeys: good, not great

all along the road, there are tons of monkeys. monkeys traveling alone, monkeys traveling with friends, monkeys that are big, monkeys that are small. some are breaking things apart and eating them, and some are galloping ahead. india is great because there are always some random animals hanging out. in delhi they're cows, in shimla they're monkeys.

how cute you are! i said to one in particular yesterday. you have fur all over your face! i see you quietly munching your fruit. you look lovable. i smiled at it, and gave it a friendly wave. the wave was the same wave i give to those i genuinely like, but have little to no interest in becoming close friends with. like this monkey.

then, crazy monkey lunged at me and i yelped and hopped back. he also got scared, squealed, and jumped back. we gave each other the 'what the fuck is wrong with you' look with the big eyes and half-scared, half-angry eyebrows. this won't work, we said to one another. i tossed my hair at him as i whipped around, and we went our separate ways. stupid monkey.

tiny adventure #3: indian guys who get skittish when addressed directly

later, i found my way to the institute of advanced studies, further down the road. it's a huge, gorgeous, gothic building and expansive grounds with lots of ledges where you can perch and see the himalayas. i scouted out a good spot and continued reading tess of the d'urbervilles, which i bought for $1.80 on the shopping strip. i read for a couple of hours.

around 1:30, three indian guys wandered to my ledge, leaned up on it, and started chattering and giggling. i heard one of them squeak, 'excuse me, ma'am?' because i don't believe in acknowledging people who don't have the balls to speak at appropriate volumes for catching people's attentions, i kept on reading. they chatted and giggled for a few minutes more, and then i heard it again. he said quietly, 'excuse me, ma'am?' again i ignored them, and they talked and laughed louder than before. finally, he won command of his voice and said loudly, 'excuse me! ma'am!'

i looked at him and said, 'yes?' they giggled. 'you are not from this country?' he asked. 'no,' i said. 'where are you coming from?' 'states,' i replied. more giggling. he didn't have anything more to say, so i went back to my book.

they started to get sort of loud, so i hopped down from the ledge, got my ipod and scrolled to the new indiefeed hip hop podcast i just discovered. it is so awesome! as i was putting in my headphones, i glanced at the boys. they were all staring directly at me. i stared back and said, 'what?' tittering. 'seriously. what do you want?' they averted they eyes, exchanged glances, and giggled coquettishly.

i sighed loudly, looked at them and said calmly, 'you guys are like a bunch of little girls. giggling all the time. you're irritating.'

they stopped laughing and left soon after. i put on my Ice Queen tiara and continued reading about tess in peace.

tiny adventure #4: cool south africans significantly improve christmas eve dinner

my stupid luxury hotel held a huge christmas eve buffet dinner last night that was mandatory for all guests. nothing like a giant gala dinner to highlight the fact that you're traveling alone and make you feel all awkward and squirmy about it when you were feeling fine before.

i had been sitting at my table for a few minutes when a lovely girl came up to me and said, 'hallo. i noticed you were dining alone. would you like to join me and my mother?' i looked over at the table she had come from and saw a friendly looking woman waving at me, similar to the way i wave at monkeys and some people.

i said, 'why yes, i would. that would be lovely. thank you so much for the invitation.' it was as though i was accepting an invitation to dance at the netherfield ball.

after about 15 minutes of conversation, i was able to confirm that they were, indeed, really cool. monique (the mother) was a lawyer, and laura (the daughter) was currently in law school. laura races horses professionally, and monique used to. they also breed horses, and have about 23 right now. they say that you can tell when a horse is going to be great around the 6 year mark, and also that they eat too much. we drank wine, talked politics, and rated all of the desserts.

a pretty good day.

Ode to my Bag

2007-12-24T01:58:00.000-08:00

Dear Bag,

when i first met you, i have to admit that i was underwhelmed. you looked so boring on the shelf: a rectangular work bag with poopy brown pebbled leather. you barely had any personality - the skinny straps and the barely noticeable pink stitching were the only remotely interesting things about you.

the things that attracted me to you were the fact that i desperately needed a new work bag, and you were priced at half of what your actual value was. to remove the extra verbage, i was desperate, and you were cheap.

that was a year and a half ago. since the day i bought you, i have used you almost every day. while i've dragged you to countless boring days at the office, we've had a lot of good times as well. remember when we went snowboarding? remember how much fun that was? i still laugh when i look at those pictures i took when i was on the ski lift and you were flying down the mountain in your red scarf, and you totallllllyyyyy wiped out. ha ha ha ha.

no, seriously though, i know i haven't always treated you well. i've inadvertently set you down in dirty puddles of water, taken you to bars where drunk retards have spilled their cheesy sex-on-the-beach-long-island-iced-tea-rocks-instead-of-brains drinks on you, and left you on the ground in Indian train stations for hours at a time, where you've no doubt picked up little tiny speckles of filth and feces that i try very hard not to think about.

you're such a survivor. i know your parents haven't treated you well. i've never seen you in any ad campaigns or on anyone else's arm, let alone for sale in a legitimate retail store. even though it's where i bought you, you're far above the outlet store in vacaville, conveniently located off of highway 80 on the way back from tahoe.

i've noticed that your parents tend to favor your siblings. they seem friendly, i guess, but are truly fugly. i have no idea why they would favor patchwork designs that includes brown suede, giant linked 'C' patterns in rainbow colors, and hot pink fur. i also have no idea why people purchase them. they look like they ate the ugliest fabric scraps they could find, pooped them out, threw up, mixed them together, swallowed the mix, and then turned themselves inside out. gross.

i admire what you do every day. whether it's carrying my dirty running shoes and nasty gym clothes, or standing up in defiance to that camel on the beach in dubai that almost spit on you, you do everything with integrity and principle. as i saw you come out of the security scan this morning at the delhi airport, i marveled at how amazing you still look - the same way you looked on the shelf that fateful day in vacaville.

thank you, bag. you're great. i would give you a big hug and a kiss to demonstrate my love and appreciation, but i won't. i don't want to get any diseases.

Love,

Me.

the bruce lee learning hour

2007-12-15T03:52:00.001-08:00

today, i woke up hungover. naturally, i chose to sleep late, eat a big breakfast, and learn more about bruce lee.

it's something i've always been meaning to do, but have never gotten around to doing. although i have not yet watched clips on youtube along with my friends batool and the several-eyed monster, a la

i have, however, started my preliminary research on wikipedia.

two of the more fascinating things i read were that:

Lee could spring a 235lb (107kg) opponent 15 feet (4.6 metres) away with a 1 inch punch.
Lee's combat movements were at times too fast to be captured on film at 24fps, so many scenes were shot in 32fps to put Lee in slow motion. Normally martial arts films are sped up.

wow! he sounds amazing, like a real-life video game. i think the 1-inch-punch thing is something that i made my blue-haired character do a few times in mortal kombat.

however, besides the physical feats, there are kernels of wisdom from him that are much more intriguing. specifically:

"The more relaxed the muscles are, the more energy can flow through the body. Using muscular tensions to try to 'do' the punch or attempting to use brute force to knock someone over will only work to opposite effect."

i took ballet classes for years and years, and all my quality teachers talked about a related approach. in ballet, we subscribed to the theory that your muscles should be relaxed so that you can send energy in the right direction. when you throw your leg to the front, directing energy backward is stabilizing, and when you're balancing, you continuously direct energy out through all your limbs. gripping your muscles to try to hold a balance always ends in a toppling mess. ouch! and embarrassing.

if this 'opposites' approach works for both ballet and bruce lee, there must be some validity to it. i wonder if it's possible to use this philosophy for other difficult things in life besides overpowering 1-inch-punches and arabesque balances in floofy tutus and under bright lights. let's try it out!

things i find consistently challenging in life:

waiting ages for the city bus

to apply bruce's wise quote to this particular problem, i will revise it to: "The more relaxed the muscles are, the more bus-please-come-right-now energy can flow through the body. Using muscular tensions to try to 'demand' the bus to come faster or attempting to use brute force to knock the bus into your neighborhood faster will only work to opposite effect."

cooking things that taste good and that i would feel more comfortable serving to friends than enemies

"The more relaxed the chef's muscles are, the more the olive oil, garlic, and deliciousness can flow through the vegetables. Using muscular tensions to try to 'yummify' the vegetables or attempting to use brute force to knock deliciousness into the vegetables will only work to opposite effect."

figuring out how to configure my wireless home network

"The more relaxed the muscles are, the more hi-speed wireless energy can flow through the studio apartment. Using individual tensions to try to 'configure' the wireless or attempting to use brute force to knock wireless functionality in the studio will only work to opposite effect."

ok, i get it. being stressed about everything probably doesn't help. i just end up frustrated, defeated, and with a crumpled set of router instructions that have missed the trash can.

aha! i am beginning to appreciate his philosophies for both their truth and versatility. now, i shall visit youtube to watch some serious asswhoopin. i will get some tea before i start to enjoy the clips i'm able to find, and this is what i will look like when i am watching them:

thank you, bruce. you are very wise and have cured my hangover headache. now come over and fix my wireless. also...nice pecs.

annie vs wild

2007-12-11T10:29:00.000-08:00

tonight, i was sitting around the house with my colleague tyler watching television, and as we passed the discovery channel he said, 'aw. dude. go back. this show is awesome.

aw wait. this is the discovery channel that's in hindi. i think the english one is somewhere in the 50s or 60s.'

as i flipped up, we saw that irritating bollywood star on like 4 channels advertising 4 different types of garbage. i shook my fist at the television, and tyler gave me an odd look.

it was this show called man vs. wild. the star of this show is stranded in a different remote location each episode to demonstrate localized survival techniques. for example, i hear that a popular song and dance for this guy is to purposely get himself neck deep into quicksand to show you how he gets out.

i watched the show with moderate interest while also checking the gossip blogs. moments during which i was raptly attentive included

when he jumped 8 ft over a deep canyon
when he cut off the tail of a scorpion and ate it for no apparent reason
when he removed his shirt

which got me thinking. just how interesting would my version of this show be?

situation: annie vs grizzly bear
bear: rawr!
me: don't bother me. i'm busy playing scrabulous.

situation: annie vs deep ravine without provisions
ravine: if you fall in me, you will fall into the greatest depths of the earth, never to be found again. molten hot lava is in the middle of the earth, you know.
me: mmmm. cheeseburgers.

situation: annie vs army of tropical ants
ants: we are many. we are 6 times as many legs. we are incredibly frightening and powerful as a giant army, and our bodies look like very small turds if you put them under a moderately-priced microscope. you know, like ones you can get at wal-mart. they're only like 30 bucks.
me: yes, over here! yay, my turn. one makers and soda on the rocks, please. thank you.

situation: annie vs endless desert
desert: i am hot. so hot. there is no food or water for miles. and no, you can't eat that camel. besides. what are you going to kill it with? that gucci belt you're wearing? give me a friggin break. is that from fall06 or spring07?
me: fall06.

situation: annie vs tumultuous sea in tiny fishing boat
sea: rawhrharhahrcrashcrashcrashwaveswavesrawwrrr
me: this is getting ridiculous. no one watches the discovery channel anyway. i resign.
discovery channel: fine! be that way. i have no idea why we hired you anyway.
me: yea. me neither. this sucked.
discovery channel: don't be such a bitch. we're through. give me back my mix tapes.
me: thank god. get them out of my sight. oh, and ps - no one who isn't a christian seventh grader with a mild acne problem in the late 90s wearing an oversized sweater from the gap in rugby green with navy and ivory stripes has ever listened to pm dawn. so yea. take the mix tapes.
discovery channel: cold as ice.
me: ya hurd.

sparkling conversation

2007-12-10T05:19:00.000-08:00

the international terminal of the dubai airport has lots of nice shit in it. a full chanel makeup counter, lacoste shirts in every single color in the wasp rainbow (read: pink. pale pink. carnation pink. coral pink.), and really large, tacky gucci handbags, a la

GGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG

even with all my experience with luxury shopping and all my experience with airport food, i was still stunned by the disparity between the grade of the available retail goods and the grade of my dinner salad. so much so that, after several minutes of eating and waiting for satisfaction, i actually looked down at the food impaled on my fork and said to it, out loud, 'wow. you are so tasteless.'

then, it occurred to me that this isn't a rare interaction. that is: the interaction between me and an object that has no hope of ever being able to respond coherently.

while being driven around dubai today by an acquaintance in a creamy white 2008 lexus sc luxury coupe, i had a fleeting moment of feeling completely and utterly poor. i stopped listening to my driver talk and said to dubai, 'esh. you are so expensive.'

now, this isn't something that i by any means premeditate. as in, 'hmm. i think i'll stop right here and make a generic comment.' it just happens, and it's over before i know it. i don't waltz around cosmopolitan cities pretending like i'm in my own privately narrated, publicly irritating version of sex in the city.

other fascinating comments along these same lines include

'i hate you so hard' to a train that was 5 hours late last week. 5. hours. so! mad!
'i don't understand you; you are talking nonsense' to a physical chemistry textbook in college
'i love you. you are the best thing that ever happened to me' to beer

i think the reason i do this so much is because it enables me to tell something what i really think of it, which is a luxury i don't have with actual living people. i guess the filter between my brain and mouth likes to have a nice break every once in a while, and it's wise to take it while i'm expressing my opinion on things that can't be shocked and offended.

ah well. better the salad than the dweeb in front of me in line at security.

the best things in life are really, really expensive.

2007-12-07T11:37:00.000-08:00

i'm in dubai for the weekend and have a hotel room all to myself. as i was reserving the room for two nights at the hyatt regency a few days ago, i cringed and thought, god, this sucks. i wish i had someone to share the cost with.

oh HO. no more. over the course of the past few hours, i've learned that having a baller ass hotel room all to yourself is pretty much the best thing that could ever happen to you.

nice hotel rooms are truly magical. the way i feel about luxury hotel rooms is the same way that other people feel about trekking through thailand, or the miracle of birth.

grumpy after long hours of travel, i was in a cab on the way to the hotel thinking, 'bleh,' when a 20-story mirage of concrete tapped me on the shoulder and whispered, 'annie. i've been waiting for you. i have a decandent king sized bed, a view of the people playing cricket in the park across the way, a well-stocked mini-fridge, a samsung television from the late 90s, and endless boxes of turkish delight. come with me.'

after we rolled up the hotel drive past a few mercedes suvs, i casually tossed a handful of bills over my shoulder to take of the fare and waltzed into the lobby. the floor was sparkling, the exotic flowers waved hello, and a handsome man at the concierge smiled as i walked up. a touring subset of the vienna choir boys quickly assembled and sang a madrigal as i checked in.

the dense oak door of my room opened up to a marbled bathroom to my right. the perfect ratio of marble to glass, spherical shower, and well-architected sink and faucet were just barely enough to overcome the weirdness of having all the choir boys follow me up to the room and try to come in and sing while i flipped through the room service menu. after some gown ruffling and a lot of cussing, i was able to shove them out the door, turn around, straighten my shirt, and get back to enjoying My Luxury Hotel Room.

ooh! there's the samsung from the early 90s, i noted. just as the concrete fairy had foretold. moving from the tv, i noticed the beautiful blonde woodwork, light-blocking drapes, bad corporate hanging art, and - ah! the king sized bed. there it was: so expansive, so white, so soft. i hurled myself onto it and basked in its lushness.

you know, i thought, the only thing that could possibly make this better is if i were on this bed rolling around on top of a thick layer of $100 bills. so i poured a bunch of benjamins over the top sheet and did that.

at this point i fell into a deep slumber and dreamt that i was frolicking in a meadow with a giant safe that contained 1000 gold bars.

aw man! pretending you're rich the best.

what's a country?

2007-12-07T05:07:00.000-08:00

an obscenely inflated self-assessment of my disposable income has brought me where i am at this moment: sitting in the bahrain airport, enjoying a two-hour layover on my way to dubai for the weekend.

i am the laziest traveler you've ever met. i never research where i'm going before i get there, and could just barely point out the general vicinity of my destination city on a map. thus, i have no idea where i am right now.

when i was little, i used to watch carmen sandiego after school every day, which was this kid's game show based on a computer game where you had to chase this detective all around the world. the very last challenge of the game involved the last player standing and a gigantic country map on the ground. when the round started, the host would start screaming the name of a country that i had vaguely thought had been dissolved, absorbed, or sublimated in a recent political conflict, and the player would grab a giant pole with a red siren on top and flail wildly around the map and stamp it down in a few different places until the siren started wailing, which meant that they had put the pole down on the right country on the map.

i always rolled my eyes when the kids couldn't figure out where the countries were, not because i thought they were stupid, since i'd thought that the name of the country that had been bellowed was actually the name of a city, but more because the host would continue to scream the country name while the kid ran in desperate circles of panic, clearly without a fucking clue as to where it was.

i hate that. everyone does that in pictionary, too. they draw a house, a family, a flower bed, a sun, and a sprinkler system, and you're shouting, 'FAMILY! NEIGHBORHOOD! CENSUS UNIT! SUBURBAN DEPRESSION!' and they're all, 'argh,' and then they draw 5 circles what they've already drawn, and point at it with the marker aggressively.

listen. i've been watching what you've been drawing. i've been guessing enthuastically. i have no idea what it is, and all those circles and large gestures are really doing are pointing out which part of the paper you've chosen to create your drawing in. hey, news flash - i saw it. take some art classes already.

then the little sand timer runs out, and they say 'uggggggggggh! it was personal landscaping. landscaping!!' and in my head i think, 'i'm not picking up your next phone call.'

anyway. yeah. being here reminds me of carmen sandiego. and pictionary.

cooking cheetahs

2007-12-05T05:57:00.000-08:00

in my new temporary housing situation, there's a tv in my room. at home, i specifically chose not to get a television because i LOVE television and would never leave the house if i had one.

i now spend a lot of my time with the television on, which means that i've watched a lot of shows over the past four weeks. during this time, i've found that i only like two types of shows with consistency:

Cooking shows

i love cooking shows! i used to watch them in middle school while eating chicken flavored ramen. i would flail home from school around 3:30, toss my backpack in my room, cook my msg salt brick, hurtle myself onto the sofa, and watch the hour block of cooking shows on the discovery channel from 4:00-5:00. they were perfect. no frills, no audiences, no irritating ex-wives of salman rushdie with great boobs and no charisma. just a narrator with a pleasant voice and two perfectly structured half hour episodes that reserved 10 minutes for an appetizer, 10 minutes for an entree, and 10 for a dessert, which usually highlighted some sort sumptuous chocolate ganache being poured on top of a multi-layered cake.

cooking shows are awesome for so many reasons.

fancy cookware. nothing is more satisfying than seeing a perfectly aligned row of small, shiny silver metal dishes that contain lots of different stuff. cilantro, quartered lemons, minced red onion, saffron, sugar, salt. one by one, in they go!

whisking. i love watching a mess of crap get whisked together. i think it's a combination of the nice metal cookware, the cheery clatter, and seeing a mess of crap get transformed into a smooth, homogeneous pool of unrecognizability.

reliability of plot. cooking shows evade the banality of lame plot lines and the pain of half-assed writing by having the same goddamn plot every episode. it goes something like this:

Exposition
Setting: Kitchen. Character: Chef. Problem: No cooked food.

Rising Action
Unfolding story: I think I'll make a rack of lamb.

Complications arise:
Crap. Rack of lamb is hard to make.

Suspense builds:
Oh god. Can I make it?!

Climax
Turning point: Yes. Yes! I can!

Falling Action
Story dies down/events fall into place: Oh. Here's the fucking recipe. Nice of you to show up late. Dick.

Resolution
All falls into place: Now, all we have to do it wait for it to finish baking in the oven until I get bored and decide to pull the one that's already done out of my secret second oven.

Cheetah chasing shows

i would like to point out that i did not say 'nature shows.' i explicitly said 'cheetah chasing shows.'

i do not find scores of water birds paddling around a pool and quacking in south america interesting. i'm not sure who does. maybe ex-wives of salman rushdie.

cheetah chasing shows share some of the same great traits as cooking shows. namely, a dependable and always entertaining plot line. to illustrate with this example,

Exposition: Desert. Cheetah. Bored/hungry.

Rising Action: Hey look. A gnu.

Complications arise: Aw, fucker. It saw me.

Suspense builds: It's running fast.

Climax: I gotcha!

Falling Action: Why is your skin so tough?

Resolution: You were delicious.

if i could just get two channels for the rest of my life, one being a good food channel and the other being a cheetah chasing channel, i would be in a pretty good spot.

you. look. ahsohot.

2007-11-26T07:10:00.000-08:00

ah, so. i'm in india, for work. i could write about things like employment rates, the rising middle class, and the growth of bangalore as the epicenter of india's silicon valley. however - you can read much better articles written by much smarter people from much more respectable publications, such as the famous new york times or well-reputed wall street journal. instead, i will write about bollywood. specifically, the men of bollywood. in particular, one.

i stay in a lovely guesthouse provided by my company, and each bedroom has a nice sony tv. each tv has 114 channels. at any one given point in time, i can guarantee you that this guy is on 26 of these channels. it could be for one of two reasons.

1) an advertisement

this guy endorsed 21 different products in 2005, 60 products in 2006, and fucking everything in 2007. here is a very abbreviated list of his recent endorsements:

Belmonte suiting company
Bagpiper soda beverages
Himani Navratan: a company providing oil and talcum powders
Sunfeast food products: Indian snack company
Hyundai: manufacturer of junkyards masquerading as cars

And last, but certainly not least,

Emami Fair and Handsome Men's Fairness Cream

Here is the genius flowchart displayed on their website that explains why men need fairness cream.

i am always wanting to attract the mens, too. many mens.

2) a music video

this man appears on every other music video that's aired. lately, everyone has been going bonkers over his new 6-pack, so my favorite music video includes

5 costume changes in 4:30 minutes
lots and lots of rain indoors
slow-motion emergence from a pool wearing leather pants, with gratuitous torso panning
blistering wind. here, winds blow so angrily that shirts cannot bear to stay closed.

here's the youtube link: http://youtube.com/watch?v=ujSFr4wE3ws&feature=related

if you can't find it, search for 'dard e disco.'

i know that 4:30 is a lot to ask of your life, so the two top places i would tag as sightseeing 'must sees' in this bollywood powertour are:

2:10-2:40
2:57

trust me. you won't regret it.

with all due respect, this guy seems like the hardest working guy i know. he sort of reminds me of a cross between ryan seacrest, britney spears when she was 17, and someone ugly.

sorry, guy. don't take this the wrong way, but please. get out of my life.

personal diplomat

2007-11-20T10:51:00.001-08:00

i spend a lot of my day chatting online, typing into these tiny little boxes on the computer, and receiving messages back. it's stupid, but i seem to spend a lot of time doing it, so i guess i like it ok.

i have a little picture that shows up next to every message i type. it looks like this

i have a friend who i often talk incessant nonsense with, including excessive drinking, annoying people, and other things that make us vomit. he also has a picture that appears next to all of his messages. it looks like this

sometimes when we're chatting, i imagine that these two things are actually sitting at a bar drinking beer and having the conversation we're having. the penguin gestures emphatically and the pink thing nods enthusiastically. then they have some more beer. they chat a bit longer, say goodbye at the door, and walk home. i, of course, only follow the penguin home. he picks up his mail at the front gate, walks upstairs, and walks into his studio. the studio looks like this

it looks suspiciously like my own. at this point, while i would go into the kitchen and read gossip blogs on the counter while boiling water for pasta, little penguin probably does much more interestesting things. I would imagine that his evening would include

padding around the studio looking for something fun to do
eating some salty snacks
being grumpy
trying to resolve spiky hair issues with new overpriced hair product from pure beauty
being dichromatic

hmm. in retrospect, me and penguin are not so different.

regardless, i'm sure penguin would be a lot better with people than i am. he may be just as grumpy, but he's probably a lot more diplomatic about his approach. let's compare:

me: that is the most ridiculous answer i have ever heard. your stupidity makes me wants to stab myself in the eye.
penguin: [holds up 'wrong' sign]

me: you have been talking about yourself for three hours, and you only have content to fill two minutes. i would rather set myself on fire than continue listening to you speak.
penguin: [holds up 'silencio' sign]

me: you seem to think that you're rather funny because you appear to be laughing at the sentence you just said. oh. i'm sorry. what? that was a joke? you've got to be kidding. your lack of joketitude is appalling.
penguin: [holds up 'zzzz' sign]

see? penguin would probably be a much better representative of me than i am. quiet, concise, yet firm. as such, i think i may have him stand for me not only in chat conversations, but in all scenarios. i will direct him to my meetings, send him to my piano lessons, and make him stand in line at the dmv for me.

awesome.

unimpressed

2007-11-05T13:17:00.000-08:00

so for a couple of days now, i've been visiting a place that's 12.5 hours ahead of where i usually live. as a result, i am awake at 3am and have been trying to fall asleep now for about four hours. for you, i would like to provide a sampling of the things that i've spent time thinking about during this half-asleep, half-awake period:

wow, the gucci spring 08 line is stunning, isn't it? those pinks and yellows and grays - so lovely all together.
i'm hungry. there's some beef jerky in my suitcase, i think.
apparently the tap water quality here is very poor. should i be brushing my teeth with filtered water?
i hate that i love facebook.
men who wear their hair in ponytails should be shot.
you know, to be honest, britney's new album isn't that bad. her people got some good producers.
ella ella ella eh eh under mah um-bur-ella
if i had to be any animal, i would definitely be a cheetah. or maybe a tiger? a white tiger? no wait...a cheetah. yeah. cheetah. just goes to show. trust your first instinct.
people who like quinoa have no souls. that crap has, like, no flavor. plus it looks like it has pubic hair. absolutely revolting.

THIS is what i think about when i'm not paying attention? this??

my brain is garbage.

travel in binary

2007-11-04T21:21:00.000-08:00

a couple of days ago i left for a long trip, and have since been in my destination for about 12 hours. i've always been a terrible documenter of experiences that i think are overdocumented, but i will try anyway.

this morning i realized that throughout my entire journey i was assessing everything in a completely binary fashion: awesome and not awesome. i would like to recount these for you for your reading tolerance.

awesome: friends who give you beef jerky as a parting gift for india. i could not have thought of a better gift for myself if i had studied 'gifts for myself' for a semester.

not awesome: flights to newark. ok, i fully realize that i live in a silly hipster neighborhood where i hardly ever see anyone elderly and am therefore unable to engage them in friendly chatter about their daily activities, but i never would have guessed that they had all started migrating en masse to newark on continental airlines on saturday afternoons. my flight was like the Old Person Corral.

why did this suck? because the old man in front of me reclined his seat as far back as it could go for the duration of the flight, and the old woman behind me asked me to put my seat fully upright after i reclined it 2 inches for 2 minutes. 'i have to use the tray,' she explained, as though she were sharing a legitimate reason with me. because i am obedient and passive aggressive, i stewed with perfect posture for the entire flight.

awesome: private television screens on international flights. i know everyone hates flying coach on international flights, but i love television, and having one three inches from your face for 12 consecutive hours is like my dream come true.

not awesome: csi:anywhere. this show is terrible. terrible acting, terrible writing, terrible everything. this show sucks, and i am annoyed that it took up valuable real estate on the one of the nine looping channels on my private tv. this show made me want to set myself on fire.

awesome: arriving in delhi. for fear of getting too close to bad travel writing, i'll be brief. the feeling of dismebarking in a new city where you've never been is stupendous. even though your brain says, 'more tv, please,' your heart says, 'yay! time for exploring!'

not awesome: realizing you're a complete fucktard. it occurred to me when i was waiting for my luggage that i didn't have the cell phone number of the girl who was meeting me at the airport, or the address of the house in which i was staying. i had set the bar low earlier that day for internally congratulating myself on having my passport, which tells you something about my personal reward system.

awesome: being saved from idiocy, no thanks to your stupid brain that likes tv. i found her.

not awesome: smog. this city is so smoggy that you can actually see it inside buildings. it reminds me of how my apartment looked and smelled when it almost burned down: smoky and vaguely bbq-ish, minus the delicious skewer.

awesome: going to work. it was awesome. i saw a cow. moo!

such is life. more later.

life redaction

2007-10-21T13:50:00.000-07:00

starting in a couple of weeks, i'm going to be living in a place where there are 24/7 houseboys in my living accommodations. when i first heard this, this is what went through my head:

1. that is so fucking awesome. i won't have to do my laundry for 3 months. (duration of thought: 2 seconds)
2. i can't believe that the economic disparities between my situation and their situation is so great that my being there is creating lucrative employment opportunities. this makes me depressed because i don't know what to do about this problem. (duration of thought: 2 min)
3. shit. i'm going to have to watch myself. (duration of thought: long)

i had to do a little bit of work with some lawyers recently, and they taught me this good word, 'redaction.' it's the word you use when take a sharpie and black out any private information on any documents you produce in court or whatever. like a nice word of 'censoring.'

in any case, i enjoy euphemisms, so i think that with houseboys around, i'm going to have to do a bit of self-redaction. if i were to list a few things that i have to stop doing, they would include:

running around house in underthings
eating spaghetti and meatballs for breakfast at 730am on weekends
dancing foolishly to mariah carey and other musical acts that comprise the lexical definition of 'bad pop'
mopping in parisian high heels
etc etc

none of these things are 'bad' per se; they're just embarrassing. spelling them out is significantly less so than actually being caught in the act of doing any one of them. sort of akin to catching people spelunking about in their noses in the sense that there isn't necessarily anything wrong with it, but it's ridiculously embarrassing to be caught doing it.

at least hearty nasal exploration has a sense of commonality. everyone does it, and anyone who says they don't thinks that using a kleenex over your finger when you do it changes the definition of 'explore'.

the things i worry about are the things that no one else does. i made the mistake once of answering the door for an unexpected guest when i was mopping wearing louboutins, and saw her reaction (what? are you wearing.). i immediately fell over myself to produce a non-retarded explanation for why i've developed this retarded habit (well you see, high heels have a much lower surface area, which means that you ruin less of the mop job. It also avoids the uncomfortable wet foot/sock issue), and felt like an idiot.

boo!

i can hear a few of you cheerleaders already. 'screw them! be yourself! be hooyouwannabe!'

i say, 'hey you. yeah, you. shut up the fuck up already.' there is no possible way that i could have a lower tolerance for people, and i'm getting the redacted versions. if people *didn't* censor themselves, i would have even fewer friends than i do now.

in sum: i'll pretend to be normal you promise to pretend too.

the greatest

2007-09-29T21:50:00.002-07:00

i have a friend named cathy, and she is the best. the other night i called her and was whining about how i was grumpy. wah!

she was like aw, i'm sorry. i'm working on creating this powerpoint deck that is due tomorrow though, so i can't hang out with you.

i got an email from her a couple hours later, asking me to review her deck for errors.

this is the slide that was in the deck:

best. ever.

help me help you

2007-09-29T20:22:00.000-07:00

a few months ago, we met a new friend through our group who made a concerted and admirable effort to invest 'let's get to know each other' time with everyone at parties.

she was nice, hot, blonde, and...boring. at the time, i was at the 'i don't need any more friends' stage, and had absolutely zero interest in spending 15 minutes with someone whose sole hobby was 'running.'

'running?' my friend had asked in her 15-minute session, expecting more.

'yup.' uncomfortable smiling.

'ah so. umm...tell me more about that. ...do you like to run...fast?'

several weeks later, her absence of personality showed at a party where she revealed that her 'interesting thing about herself' was that her favorite tv show was 'dancing with the stars.'

if this is your interesting fact, i highly encourage that you lie and something like, 'every monday night i dream that i'm the host of a popular cooking show on the food network and everyone in the audience is an alligator,' or 'i made out with wilmer valderrama and watched nicole ritchie eat shit walking out of the ivy on the same day, thenceforth known as the Best Day of My Life.'

because boring people are like death, we were both outraged for about 5 minutes, during which i had a brilliant idea. if she wanted 15 minutes with me, i would first send her to my help center, and request that she submit questions to me directly only if she had specific inquiries that hadn't been answered. watching a show that is consistently a nielsen top rated show because it is also watched by millions of other people is, by definition, the opposite of interesting.

help centers are big at my company. building a good help center for our products is important because giving people the information they need saves them from having to ask us questions, and us from having to answer them.

in this vein, the Annie Help Center would include information such as

vitals

this will include the boring things such as date of birth, place of birth, siblings, etc. essentially, all the information people are obliged to include in your passport and at the beginning of your obituary.

favorites

this will include favorite foods, colors, restaurants, dogs, hyphenated artists, animals, hobbies, etc (cheeseburgers, gold, amarena, huskies, jay-z, pandas, playing piano drinking beer reading newspaper).

dislikes

just as important as the favorites. this will include crucial data points like driving, people who think that hosting parties with a pimps and hos theme is unique, cooking, being hot and sweaty, cleaning, waiting for neurotic friends to get ready for parties, and reading.

apartment tour

i like my apartment, and i think it's safe to say that if you don't like my apartment, you probably won't like me either. it includes one plant, one piano, seven space invaders, eight plates, and lots of shoes.

frequently asked questions (faqs)

this section will allow people to browse frequently asked questions such as, 'is annie mad at me?' 'why is she so awesome?' and 'i found these dopeass sunglasses in the hallway. are they hers?'

virtual conversation

if you're missing me, this section will be for you. it's going to like those choose your own adventure books, except a lot less exciting. you'll be able to start a conversation with a number of popular salutations such as 'hi,' 'hello,' 'what's up,' 'yo,' 'bleh,' and 'fuck you.' each response will have a unique response ('hey,' 'hi,' 'jack shit,' 'ahoy,' 'seriously,' and 'fuck you too you look like crap'), followed by another selection for continuing the conversation.

i will have to try hard to learn how to build a website and to not fall asleep out of boredom while writing the content for it.

Saturday Night Dinner

2007-09-29T19:02:00.000-07:00

the past couple of months i have been on a strict spaghetti and meatballs diet, and tonight was no exception. there's a little italian eatery a few blocks from my house, so i called in my order and walked over to pick it up.

as i was walking up to the door, i saw a guy sitting at one of the outdoor tables pointing at his dinner companion with a stern look on his face. as i got closer, i realized that his friend was his bedlington terrier, who was sitting on his butt in the chair across from him looking bored.

just in case you don't know what a bedlington terrier looks like, i have included a picture of four friends here for your convenience:

i think i can say with 99% confidence that this is the best thing that will have happened to me all weekend, and i like it.

it's hot

2007-08-29T21:06:00.002-07:00

it's hot tonight. all the windows are open and the fan is on. and you know what that means.

sitting around my apartment in my underwear eating ice cream and listening to sergio mendes. yay!

-------------------

ahoy-hoy! the big talent party was last saturday. here is the program, which irvin so kindly created:

i sent the program to my dad. this was his email response:

Look great. Have fun, but don't get drunken. Say hi to all of the great performers.

dad

here is a picture of my good friend cathy having a slice of salami on the sofa before the party:

my, my! how fun that looks. that apartment looks awesome, also. check that domokun on the nesting table in the corner. that shit is dope. those floors also look newly mopped. whoever owns this apartment has aggressively good taste.

highlights (otherwise known as talents captured by digital photos that didn't look like shit):

this is grant, the phd in plant genetics, talking about orchid maintenance:

this is irvin, teaching everyone how to make cookie bars.

this is cathy, demonstrating angel ornament construction from a beer can.

awesome!

after everyone left i went on a mad drunken cleaning spree. i took out 5 rounds of recycling, wiped all the countertops, swiffered, and mopped until 3am. i woke up the next morning with a ridiculous headache and a sparkling apartment. hurrah!

it is still so hot, and now i'm all out of ice cream, so it is time to say good night.

Best Answer Ever

2007-08-20T22:35:00.000-07:00

i was at a dinner party this past saturday, and these two friendly looking guys sauntered in and sat down at the table. their friend said, 'hey! what'd you guys do today?'

they said 'dinosaur origami.' they went on later to say they followed up dinosaur orgami with 'text twist,' which is like my favorite friggin game ever.

'dinosaur origami' might be the best honest response to that question i have ever had the good fortune to witness in person. common answers to this question include:

-ran errands
-nuthin. fuckin sat around and drank burrs
-i forgot

let's compare these two things pictorally. never liked reading something that didn't have at least a few pictures in it.

-ran errands
-nuthin. fuckin sat
around and drank burrs
-i forgot

awesome

i was impressed. it made me want to take up eccentrically affected hobbies just so i, too, can say interesting things in response to this question, like 'potato sculpture' and 'midget squash.' but alas, all i did this weekend was fucking nothing. sat around and drank a bunch of beers.

Cultural Lesson

2007-08-13T21:18:00.000-07:00

It's that time. Time for social studies!

i highlighted the most interesting parts in red. be not intimidated by anthropologists whose names contain the ultimate triple threat of being hyphenated, having an accent, and sharing a first name with other illustrious french intellectuals (monet, debussy).

-------------------------------------------------------------

Postmodern Thoughts, Illuminated by the Practices of a Premodern Tribe

By EDWARD ROTHSTEIN

Published: June 18, 2007

News of the death of the philosopher Richard Rorty on June 8 came as I was reading about a small Brazilian tribe that the French anthropologist Claude Lévi-Strauss studied in the 1930s. A strange accident, a haphazard juxtaposition — but for a moment this pragmatist philosopher and a fading tribal culture glanced against each other, revealing something unusual about the contemporary scene.

University of Virginia

The philosopher Richard Rorty.

Micha Bar-Am, 1987

Claude Lévi-Strauss

Mr. Rorty was one of America’s foremost philosophers, who in midcareer, after devoting himself to the rigors of analytic philosophy, decided that “it is impossible to step outside our skins — the traditions, linguistic and other, within which we do our thinking and self-criticism.” He argued that we are always dealing with multiple and conflicting claims of truth, none of which can be conclusively established. We choose what to believe based on what is useful for us to believe. For Mr. Rorty, the importance of democracy is that it creates a liberal society in which rival truth claims can compete and accommodate each other. His pragmatism was postmodern, tolerant to a fault, its moral and progressive conclusions never appealing to a higher authority.

But the Caduveo of Brazil would not have welcomed that kind of all-inclusive embrace, and probably that embrace would not have been so readily offered to them. When Mr. Lévi-Strauss wrote about this dwindling tribe in “Tristes Tropiques,” his fascinating 1955 memoir, he compared these “knightly Indians” with their “aristocratic arrogance” to a deck of European playing cards; they even looked the parts of jacks, kings and queens, he wrote, with their cloaks and tunics decorated in red and black with recurrent motifs resembling hearts, diamonds, spades and clubs. The tribal queens, Mr. Lévi-Strauss noted, even seemed to trump Lewis Carroll’s imagined Queen of Hearts with their taste for playing with severed heads brought back by warriors.

The Caduveo, in Mr. Lévi-Strauss’s description, would never have considered for a moment that their beliefs and their society were arbitrarily constructed. The Caduveo had all the presumption and self-importance of royalty. They tattooed their bodies with elaborate “asymmetric arabesques” that served as coats of arms and signs of status. Their leaders removed every bit of facial hair, including eyelashes, and sneered at hairy Europeans. They even intimidated their Spanish and Portuguese conquerors.

They were, then, preliberal, premodern. In their midst every principle Mr. Rorty valued was violated. They provided their own transcendent authority and demanded its universal recognition. A neighboring, related tribe essentially became their serfs, cultivating land and turning over produce.

The Caduveo founding myth recounts that, lacking other gifts at the moment of creation, the tribe was given the divine right to exploit and dominate others. Mr. Lévi-Strauss once suggested that the Indian tribes of the Americas were like peoples of the Middle Ages, lacking the example of Rome; but the Caduveo, in his descriptions, are more like nobility from the 17th to mid-18th century, lacking the example of either the American or French revolutions.

But there was also something else about this tribe that drew Mr. Lévi-Strauss’s attention: “It was a society remarkably adverse to feelings that we consider as being natural.” Its members disliked having children. Abortion and infanticide were so common that the only way the tribe itself could continue was by adoption, and adoption — more properly called abduction — was traditionally implemented through warfare. The tribal disdain for nature extended into its active denigration of hair, agriculture, childbirth and even, perhaps, representational art.

In all of this the tribe was proclaiming that while its dominance derived from nature and was beyond question, its superiority meant that nature had no further claim on it. Everything else was created by the tribe itself, particularly the ornate and elaborate tattoos and paintings on members’ bodies. In this respect the tribe was not countercultural but counternatural. It refused to defer to external forces or commands.

In Mr. Lévi-Strauss’s telling the Caduveo actually take on a strangely postmodern flavor, shedding the very idea of natural law or constraints. Even Mr. Rorty might have found his sympathies touched. He once suggested that science had been established by modern man “to fill the place once held by God” but that it didn’t merit that position; it should be seen, Mr. Rorty said, as having the “same footing” as literature or art, and he suggested that physics and ethics were just differing methods of “trying to cope.” The Caduveo might have agreed, as long as they were permitted to determine which methods of coping were used.

But what place would such a society have in a Rortian democratic landscape? How would they be answered if their claims to divine right and arbitrary power came in direct conflict with the more embracing arbitrariness of Mr. Rorty’s vision?

In reasoning one’s way into pragmatism, in minimizing the importance of natural constraints and in dismissing the notion of some larger truth, the tendency is to assume that as different as we all are, we are at least prepared to accommodate ourselves to one another. But this is not something the Caduveo would necessarily have gone along with. Mr. Rorty’s outline of what he called “the utopian possibilities of the future” doesn’t leave much room for the kind of threat the Caduveo might pose, let alone other threats, still active in the world.

One tendency of pragmatism might be to so focus on the ways in which one’s own worldview is flawed that trauma is more readily attributed to internal failure than to external challenges. In one of his last interviews Mr. Rorty recalled the events of 9/11: “When I heard the news about the twin towers, my first thought was: ‘Oh, God. Bush will use this the way Hitler used the Reichstag fire.’ ”

If that really was his first thought, it reflects a certain amount of reluctance to comprehend forces lying beyond the boundaries of his familiar world, an inability fully to imagine what confrontations over truth might look like, possibly even a resistance to stepping outside of one’s skin or mental habits.

But in this too the Caduveo example may be suggestive. As Mr. Lévi-Strauss points out, neighboring Brazilian tribes were as hierarchical as the Caduveo but lacked the tribe’s sweeping “fanaticism” in rejecting the natural world. They reached differing forms of accommodation with their surroundings. The Caduveo, refusing even to procreate, didn’t have a chance. They survive now as sedentary farmers. Such a fate of denatured inconsequence may eventually be shared by absolutist postmodernism. The Caduveo’s ideas weren’t useful, perhaps. Some weren’t even true.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

ok, ok. i will be the first to admit that i have actually read this article more than 5 times, and i still don't understand the author's foundation of juxtaposing claude ls and rorty, but that's not the point. the point is that these people were so anti-natural that they didn't procreate, so they died out.

tell me that isn't hilarious.

i used to be very interested in anthropology, and i guess i still am to a certain extent. the problem is, i got so good at seeing controlling paradigms that i gave up trying to do a double major. i was like - what's the point? american society has constructed an academic system that rewards only specific types of aptitude that funnel into institutions that are driven by the white wealthy and are more about business than pursuit of knowledge.

another thing i will say about anthropology is that gives you a severely inflated feeling of righteousness and an insatiable need to write obnoxious and ultra-pretentious sentences that are really long and poorly punctuated.

i secretly wish i were a hardcore anthropologist sometimes, in the same way i wish i was a ballerina or an economist. i am trying to figure out how to do all three, but so far no luck.

Annie vs. Books!

2007-08-08T21:32:00.000-07:00

i don't understand why i have so many books, because i hate reading. i used to like reading when i was really little, and always wanted to read past my bedtime, which basically meant that i read under the bedsheets with a flashlight. this is why i had glasses before i got to kindergarten. they were huge pink and plastic ones, but i digress. what i was reading at that age i have no idea. probably tolstoy.

my next memory of reading was in second grade. we had this children's encyclopedia set in our living room, and it was like a regular encyclopedia in that it many volumes, each volume covering topics A-C, D-F, etc., except that it also had all of these great illustrations. my dad dared me to read the entire set in one month, and every third volume, i would get pizza. so i read the entire set, and it was delicious.

in the fourth grade i saw jurassic park, and decided that i would be really ambitious and read the book. it was a pretty bad idea - there were so many words i didn't know and i was reading it primarily to prove that i could. in general, in life, i tend to do this a lot - doing things just to prove that i can. i do it with self-improvement projects, with people, and with work. turns out that this is a really stupid thing to do and a colossal waste of time. i am also marking this as digression #2.

in middle school, i got really into christopher pike books. they're 300-pageish books of concentrated high school murder and thriller excitement! plot lines include but are not limited to hot football players who are actually dead zombies, hot cheerleaders who discover that they are reincarnated greek goddesses, and hot people who later realize that they are versions of the same person (one was a high school girl, the other was her 40-year-old self). best books ever.

in high school, i decided to read the fountainhead because it was really long and had a cool name. interestingly enough, i actually liked it, so then i read atlas shrugged, which took a lot longer. both books took me so long that they were the only two books i read in high school that weren't required reading. two books in four years. i guess that reading those books was enriching to some extent. they enriched me with this aggressively idealistic perspective of the world, and the expectation that i may someday be whisked away to a secret valley, accessible only by secret airplane, where a secret group of people would sit around and things like discover new sciences, write symphonies, and solve large-scale economic problems every day. so far i haven't been invited, so i've been spending most of my time with my computer, domokun, and ipod.

we are a stellar combo, so things are going pretty well.

fast forward to now. i have a beautiful bookshelf from dwr filled with books i mostly haven't read. here is a sampling from my bookshelf:

books i have never even started
---------------------------------

Charles Schwab's New! Guide to Financial Independence
The Hidden Persuaders - Vance Packard
Sophie's World - Jostein Gaarder
The Pro-Growth Progressive - Gene Sperling
PR! - Stuart Ewen

books i tried to read and never finished
----------------------------------------

The Moral Animal - Robert Wright
Life of Pi - Yann Martel
The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay - Michael Chabon
Blink - Malcolm Gladwell
Smilla's Sense of Snow - Peter Hoeg
Bobos in Paradise - David Brooks
Why we Buy - Paco Underhill
The Call of the Mall - Paco Underhill
From Here to Economy - Todd Buchholz
The Language Instinct - Steven Pinker
Autobiography of a Face - Lucy Grealy
The World is Flat - Thomas Freidman
The Decameron - Bocaccio
The Idiot's Guide to World Conflicts

books i've actually read
------------------------

Bel Canto - Ann Pachett
The Namesake - Jhumpa Lahiri
Interpreter of Maladies - Jhumpa Lahiri

books i've read multiple times
-------------------------------

See You Later - Christopher Pike
The Immortal - Christopher Pike
All-of-a-Kind-Family - Sydney Taylor
The Fountainhead - Ayn Rand
The Aspern Papers/Turn of the Screw - Henry James
Atlas Shrugged - Ayn Rand
Matilda - Roald Dahl

i would to point out that the books that are in my bookshelf that i've actually read multiple times are bad middle-school level murder mysteries and children's books, apart from Ayn Rand and Henry James.

this is embarrassing, but i can't help it. i am, however, still trying. i just bought a book called the origin of wealth, and it cost a lot of money, so i'm hoping that will motivate me to read it. that, and a sudden interest in economics that appeared out of nowhere several months ago and that has persisted, even in the face of veritable opposition from a few well-known heavyweights, including shopping and beer.

i am hoping this new endeavor is successful. if so, i think i will eat some pizza.

return of the mac

2007-08-07T20:59:00.000-07:00

i am back after a long summer hiatus, to bring you fabulous tales of excitement, passion, lust, and drama!

how enthralling!

excitement
------------

i am planning a party. i take piano lessons, and most of my obnoxious friends are tired of hearing about all the practicing, and don't understand why there's no performance. thus, i have decided to finally perform for friends, under the condition that they are also required to perform.

i'm essentially having a talent party. if you're going to come, you have to perform something. it doesn't have to be a typical performance - i am requiring my friend aj, a chemistry professor, to teach a chemistry lesson. my friend ashley is serving gourmet cheese poofies and handing out the recipe. you know, that kind of shit.

i am requiring all others who come unprepared to read from a scene of king lear that i will xerox earlier that day.

this is EXCITING.

passion
--------

i learned how to shoot a gun this summer. i went with a few friends from work, lots and lots of nice handguns, and one shotgun. we were all wearing dresses and heels, and were greeted by a kid working the cashier desk with a huge snake around his neck. worst accessory ever.

shooting a gun is scary at first, primarily because you think you're going to be such an idiot that you would accidentally shoot yourself. the thing to realize is that while operating a gun does make you nervous, it doesn't make you a fucking retard.

we had a 9mm, a 40, two 45s (one with laser!), a shotgun, and all of these large sheets of paper with drawings of this guy with a beanie kidnapping a girl. trust me. there was passion.

lust
----

i have a crush on someone new. i think his name is ox. he is on the left; the green one.

drama
-------

we tried to go camping a few weeks ago, and the entire experience sucked. first and foremost, the lake was ugly. so ugly.

second of all, we hated the campsite, and tried desperately to escape the dire conditions.

observe as we shamelessly claw at each other in hopes of escape.

all in all, i could not have imagined a worse hell.

i have learned my lesson and will never come back here with all of these attractive people, casual reading, franzia, and two bathing suits. never. worst idea of the summer.

The Must Have List

2007-05-05T13:51:00.000-07:00

i thought now would be a good time to publish the current 'must have' list, to honor the insatiable consumer in me! illustrative:

1. Hip Hop Abs. Observe:

oh man. does that look amazing or what!

i saw the infomercial running very, very late one night in my hotel room in boston last week. usually, strong affinities you develop when you're half drunk and all tired tend to creep away slowly, but something about this really stayed with me. i do not know this shaun t. i have also never had six-pack abs. coincidence? i think not.

2. The shoes I've been chasing after for months.

I found them. Remember that long, boring post I wrote about these white Louboutins with a black lattice at the vamp? My friend Ashley found them, drinking lemon drops and lounging around at Barneys, a la

The problem is, when I coudn't find them, I purchased a pair of white patent leather Louboutins in consolation. I love them. But I lust these.

3. Fantome Clock

Architectural Elements is an absurdly expensive furniture store near my house, and the only thing I could afford in the entire place was this clock:

It's bomb. It's see-through. It's a tad bit cheesy. I usually like things that fit these three criteria.

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Commercial Break!
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It's beer! Beer! BEER! You love beer. I love beer. Let's have a look:

Looks delicious and refreshing, doesn't it?

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

4. Corset from Agent Provocateur

Because, despite the fact that I can't stand the girls who work there, this is ridiculously hot and will be equally enjoyable to make out with people in or read the newspaper wearing. Full, deep, lung-inflating breaths are totally overrated.

5. Flowers. Regularly.

Last night I bought some flowers from the hipster organic grocery near my house. Here they are!

They are beautiful and they make me feel as though there are living things in my studio other than Biff, my bionic plant. Also, I like the fact that you actually expect them to die. Plants, on the other hand, only die if you are so inept that you aren't able to water them consistently. Dead plants make you look like an idiot who can't get your shit together. Dead flowers make you look like a poet who has feelings vaster than the greatest abyss.

6. Gold fronts

if i have to explain to you why i want these, it's safe to say that I wouldn't have interest in making you my friend anyway.

Inventory Check!

2007-03-19T23:13:00.000-07:00

Things I Have Done my Entire Life and am Decent at
-----------------------------------------------------

talking bullshit.

this is my forte.

skipping grades.

i skipped the first grade because my dad decided i didn't need to do it. i was thrilled because i was excited about the amount of money it would save my parents on lunch money. i honestly thought this, which shows you just how dorky i am.

playing the piano.

i have been doing this for 20 years. that is, like, forever.

dancing to classical music (ballet).

again with the 20 years. our ballet studio was funny - we never stressed about being skinny. we would go to rehearsals all day and then drive straight to applebee's afterwards. applebee's was high class dining where i'm from.

dancing to hip hop (video ho-like)

a few years ago, i learned that the only thing you need in order to dance to hip hop is shake your ass. i'm serious. all those instructions in those songs are spot on.

reading the newspaper

i subscribe and read all the good parts about vital things such as what type of hair products bald men are using these days. seriously. that was in the thursday styles two weeks ago.

drinking alcohol

i'm relatively small but once drank 12 shots of vodka in college. this is a stupid talent to have. it's expensive and makes me bloated.

Things I used to do Really Poorly and am Now Better at
------------------------------------------------------------

snowboarding

president's day weekend this year, i decided that i was tired of sucking at snowboarding (have been probably 6 days in my life and was terrible every time) and that i was going to get good. so i did. sucking at things is my biggest pet peeve ever. i HATE sucking.

managing time

an example of when i did not manage my time well is when i was unemployed after college and woke up at noon every day, sent out 15 resumes, and got sleepy so took a nap at 4pm. this has greatly improved as the amount of crap i have to do in life has exponentially increased. more crap = better efficiency, so i have time at the end of my day to do things like sit on my futon and think about sweeping, but instead decide to indulge in my narcissism and write about myself on the interwebs.

Things I Have Always Done Really Poorly and Have Few Hopes of Improving
----------------------------------------------------------------------------

ability to see well without glasses or contacts

i got gigantic pink glasses when i was in kindergarten. ha! you say it's adorable now. but back then, they salted my game hardcore.

organizing my apartment

up until a week ago, my apartment was a complete clusterfuck. my closets were a horrendous mess, and my kitchen was so poorly organized that i wouldn't have been surprised if i had found my ex-boyfriend in the bottom leftmost cabinet next to the nesquick. my sister came to visit last week and organized my entire apartment in two and a half hours. it was like magic.

memorizing facts

a persistent problem in school. this made me really bad at any sort of history or date-learning class. and botany. and archeological anthropology. and remembering friends' birthdays. unfortunately, the ability to remember things affects a surprisingly large number of life activities.

Things I Would Like to Learn How to do
--------------------------------------------

produce a hip hop beat

lately, i've been daydreaming about becoming a hip hop producer. how. dope. would. that. be. you'd turn on mtv and see this black and white video with a bunch of huge guys dressed in jerseys and iced out and shit. and then there would be me!! i would be wear short shorts and oil up my legs and wear huge rhinestone-studded gold hoops.

just kidding. i would probably be super awkward because i'm shy in front of cameras, and probably also because i'd probably be caught eating a bag of potato chips or something. mortifying.

On being a girl

2007-03-18T21:39:00.000-07:00

for reasons that are far beyond the scope of the next few paragraphs, there are few things that i dislike more intensely than admitting that i desperately love things that are stereotypically girly. these include:

mariah carey ballads
you telling me that you think my hair looks dope
shoes

items 1 and 2 are things that i like.

i have a palpable lust for shoes. i sometimes go to bed thinking about them. i daydream about them while i'm eating noodles. i leer at them out of the corner of my eye.

i spotted my latest conquest in a copy of a paper magazine that i got for free from the coffee shop around the corner of my house. i was flipping through it absentmindedly when i spotted them.

they were perfect. in a basic pump and mary jane style. worn by very thin girls who looked bored out of their minds. they're white, pointy, have 3.5 inch heels, and black lattice on the vamps. perfect arch. they're dope as shit. i decide then that i must own them.

naturally, i flip to the page where paper magazine is supposed to tell me who the designer is. it's the spring07 line of rodarte. rodarte is a lovely line that sells dresses for $17,000.

i go home an do intense research online for an hour. i discover that rodarte has paired up with christian louboutin to do a line of shoes specifically for the sp07 line.

i check every site that carries louboutin shoes online. they are nowhere to be found.

i email rodarte myself. it was started by two sisters who are from pasadena and went to berkeley. because i write emails for a living, i'm pretty good at it, so i write a nice, concise, engaging, email that is both complimentary to the spring line, as well as slightly inquisitive about the shoes that are featured in the line.

lo and behold, one of the sisters writes me back. aha! check barneys ny and la, she says.

i call both stores. the woman i talk to in los angeles has never heard of rodarte and the guy in new york asks me to email him a picture of the shoes - no dice, but he agrees that they're SO CUTE.

i write the laura (the sister who answered my email) back, and kindly and apologetically, explain that neither barneys has them and that i'm still searching. she suggests that i try the louboutin boutiques in nyc.

i'm in luck! i have a trip planned for work in nyc. what an excellent plan. instead of working, i will search out my love in a storefront on madison avenue.

unfortunately, i find that i actually do have stuff to do in our new york office, and have no chance to look for them while i'm there for three days. on my plane ride home, i can't believe that i've done the unthinkable: i've chosen to work over love.

to make amends, i'm working on being sent back out to nyc in early april for a conference and look for them there.

so. what is the point of this long and incredibly boring story?

the point is that if i were as polished and persistent about my career as i have been about these shoes, i probably would have already started my own microcredit bank, written three books, and just finished up a music video with timbaland. that's the point.

Same Dinner Every Night!

2007-02-18T00:16:00.001-08:00

if you must know anything about me, know this:

1. i am very lazy
2. i am very impatient
3. i am often hungry
4. i like eggs

whenever i prepare dinner for myself, i usually prepare the same exact thing every single night. join me as i journey through my culinary wonders since may of 2003, the month i graduated from college.

may-december 2003
starch: udon noodles
protein: egg
vegetable: tomato

love this. it is warm, delicious, and the noodles are slimy. look at how delicious:

january-february 2004
starch: rice
protein: none
vegetable: spinach

eventually got sick of this. spinach and rice soup is fascinating for about the first three weeks, and started to really get on my nerves in mid-february.

march-june 2004
starch: udon noodles
protein: egg
vegetable: tomato

everyone relapses with old loves. especially after a six week long mistake with spinach.

july 2004-november 2004
starch: rice
protein: pork
vegetable: broccoli

just so you know, broccoli is one of my great loves. it probably deserves to be number 5 in that list at the top. it's green, it's good for you, and it looks like a small tree that you can get cut into tinier and even tinier trees. my friend irvin gave me a stress ball thing that he got from kaiser permanente, except it's not a ball at all, it's a broccoli. i put it in my refrigerator.

december 2004-march 2005
starch: rice
protein: brussel sprouts
vegetable: brussel sprouts

after broccoli, i discovered brussel sprouts. they're high in protein, easy to cut (in half!), and have a slight advantage over broccoli because instead of looking like small trees, brussel sprouts look like small brains, which i find mildly intriguing.

april 2005-july 2005
starch: spaghetti noodles
protein: brussel sprouts
vegetable: brussel sprouts, capers
oil: olive

hmmm. in writing this, i've realized that my culinary genealogy is a lot like that game mastermind where on each successive turn you change just one color in the sequence. or like that word game where you have to figure out how to get from one word to another by changing one letter at a time, and all of the words in between actually have to be real words. you can't be a dick and use 'turntgble' as your penultimate move before you claim victory at 'turntable.'

why am i so nerdy? it's annoying.

august 2005-november 2005
starch: spaghetti noodles
protein: eggs
vegetable: capers
oil: olive
sauce: soy

yes. yes, capers were promoted to 'vegetable.'

december 2005-april 2006
starch: rice
protein: eggs
vegetable: tomato

i love this dish. it is one of my favorite favorite favorites, and it takes about 3 minutes to cook. rachael ray is wasting her time. i can eat, water my plant, practice piano, and watch an episode of threes company in the remaining 27 minutes. i actually recently compiled all of these quick recipes into a book that is available at Imaginary Bookstore.

may 2006-august 2006
starch: noodles
protein: eggs
vegetable: tomato, capers
oil: olive

i am running out of things to say, so i will paste a cute picture here instead of trying to think of something remotely interesting to say.

august 2006-february 2007
during this time period, i started eating out a lot. near my house. there are three main places that i go:
1. sunflower (vietnamese pho)
2. pancho villa (burrito)
3. katz (bagels)

my friend cathy and i were walking down 16th street last night, where all three of these places are located. as we walked by, i waved cheerily at each person working, and they waved cheerily back. cathy proclaimed me the mayor of 16th street, and i giggled happily until i remembered that the only reason why these people know me is because i eat a lot and happen to spend money on food at these three venues because i am too lazy to venture more than a block away from my house.

wah.

Make it Last Forever, said Keith Sweat. Really? Sweat? That's your last name? gross.

2007-02-08T23:16:00.000-08:00

when i start to really like something, i have this bad habit of hanging out with it so much that i get sick of it. this happens to me with food, music, and sometimes people. however, there always remains this very special subset of items that i have always loved, and that i will forever love.

what makes these particular things special? is it the very perfect combination of traits they possess? or is it because these loves are simply expiring at slower rates? today we will examine one category. food. my favorite!

Exhibit A: Oreos

Mug Shot:

oreos are great! they involve cookies (2!) and sweet, lard-laden frosting. you can pull them apart, or not. you can dip them in milk, or not. the milk can be hot, or cold, or room temperature. you can have them in ice cream. you can have them with coffee. they are delicious! i loved oreos.

when i was in college, these students started this little business where they took costco orders from hapless freshmen without cars, and delivered them to our dorm rooms.

costco is good for things like families with many people and ogres who enjoy discounts. from experience, i would say costco is not optimal for girls in college who just want some cookies to make studying less painful, and also want an appropriately-sized container of body wash for the 99-00 year.

i ordered oreos and they came in a box with 8 rolls. one roll contains 15 oreos. i ate 120 oreos in a week and a half. when i see oreos nowadays, that warm feeling doesn't spread over my heart anymore. i don't have any sort of bad reactions or feelings of revulsion; i'm just not interested. i think they're kind of boring. kind of like the same reaction i have when i see babies.

Exhibit B: Tuna Salad

Mug Shot:

i had to do it sort of rebus style because all of the photos i found for tuna salad looked like i had eaten it and then thrown it back up and put some chopped cilantro on it.

in any case, tuna salad is stupendous. tuna salad is delicious with an entire suite of garnishes:

mayonnaise
pickles (salty dill only, please)
red onions
celery
um
err
shit. can't think of anything else.

look at all of those ingredients! tuna salad is so versatile.

i could eat tuna every day. it takes about 2 seconds to make, it's filling, and it has protein. i think all of these reports of dangerous levels of mercury are preposterous. besides, mercury makes you strong like bull.

So here we have our two examples. what have we learned? what are the key differences between oreos and tuna salad?

the answer to these questions is: i have no idea. they're totally different, and there's no way you can compare them. this exercise is stupid. let's chalk it up to my fickle nature.

i'm bored. next!

I Like to Make a Lot of Fuss About Things that are not that important in the Grand Scheme of the Universe

2007-01-10T21:07:00.000-08:00

i tend to overthink very particular things that are stupid. for example, i'll often furrow my brow, make long pro/con lists, and consult multiple people before i make a retail purchase. however, i chose my college by receiving an acceptance letter, guessing that there was a very high chance that it would be better than the place where i was originally planning on going, and shrugging my shoulders. i hadn't seen the campus at all until i showed up to move in.

yes. yes, it's true. i'm a moron.

-----

i like blazers. i bought one two years ago that i love. it's black. it's comfy. i like it.

i've wanted a black velvet blazer forever. not sure why. maybe because it's warmer, it looks cozy, it's a little bit shiny.

i've also always really liked theory. it drew me in with its tailored everything and it's simple design, but i fainted at its three-digits prices.

this past weekend, i saw a theory black velvet blazer almost half off. i hesitated, and here were my two best arguments against buying it:

1. Annie! what if you happen to walk through a very violent pillow fight?? what would happen to you then! you would look ridiculous!

2. Annie. what if you were wearing your blazer, and, and..and, you walked through this coop with all of these recently shaven chickens? you would positively be the village fool!

I hereby declare this Exhibit 1.

----

i drink a lot of water, and a lot of coffee, so i spend a respectable amount of time walking to and from the restroom, especially at work.

>as a quick note, i work at a really nice place. our place is so nice that we have these really fancy toilets that are actually heated, so they're nice and warm when you sit down on them. rest assured, i do fully appreciate these toilets.

one tiny feature of these toilets that i've found to be a little less spectacular than the company may have imagined is its incredible water pressure. the water pressure is so spectacular that i realized the other day that whenever the toilet starts automatically flushing (which is around the time that i'm pulling up my pants), i reflexively jump back from the toilet and press myself up against the stall door.

i do this because i am afraid of Toilet Water maliciously leaping out to grab me, inspiring all sorts of J&J commercial-like germ nigthmares in my head, in which tiny germies with angry eyebrows throw racous parties all over my new jeans. this will not be tolerated.

Exhibit 2!

----

i was visiting my friendly local overpriced organic supermarket the other day when i remembered that my Safeway Select brand jar of capers was almost gone. i meandered over to the capers nonchalantly and learned that a very small container (3oz) of capers costs SIX DOLLARS.

this is bullshit! i said to myself.

i finally found a large jar (10oz) of capers that had a nice looking label that was selling for almost seven dollars.

ok, i thought. this is much less bullshit than the 3oz jar. so i bought it and trekked home, through the vast wilderness of sweet victorian houses and nice people who live in my neighborhood.

when i got home i ate one. it was like a salt bomb. BOMB. ridiculous. and i LOVE salt. LOVE.

i was actually visibly angry about it. here i was, innocent consumer, looking for a jar of reasonably priced jar of capers, and now i'm sitting here in my kitchen with my nice fork staring at a glass cylinder full of little blood pressure pellets.

i've diluted them 4 times and they're still too salty. i sometimes think about it while i'm at work. or on the bus. or while i'm going to sleep. this, when there are people whose lives are rising out of poverty through socially-conscious businesses and microcredit loans. when others are devoting all waking hours to studying pancreatic cancer.

capers!

Exhibit 3.

Indulgence

2007-01-01T20:01:00.000-08:00

today we are going to sinfully soak ourselves in a small bath of Random Things I Like. it is going to be so. much. fun. i can't wait! let's get started right away.

i like pandas. i also think that daily exercise is good for your circulation. thus, it follows that i would really enjoy watching pandas do calisthenics.

i also really like dumplings.

look at it! so friendly, and also perhaps a little embarrassed. you might be too if you had a pleated head.

monsters make life worth living. also, i want to use my computer and feel like i may get eaten if i check my email.

That is all for you. We may revisit this 'topic' again when I am feeling similarly unimaginative, and prefer to rely on the imagination of others.

Supermarket

2006-11-01T21:41:00.000-08:00

Aha! Here we are at Safeway, with whom I've had a hot and cold relationship for the past few years. I get very confused by it because every thing about it has a huge pro and a huge con. For example:

Large Selection of Stuff
------------------------

Pro: There is a large selection of things to buy. This is great! I can find everything! If I remember that I also have to buy a roll of double-stick tape while I'm in the produce aisle, I can get it.

Con: There is so much stuff in Safeway I feel like it's yelling at me as soon as I walk through the door. There's almost too much stuff. Whenever I walk into the store through the exit that's closest to my house, the store is like SODA SODA SODA JUICY TYPES OF SODA BREAD BREAD BREAD THAT IS 70 CENTS BREAD THAT HAS 70 GRAINS BAGUETTE BREAD COOKIES COOKIES COOKIES WITH ICING COOKIES WITH NUTS COOKIES WITH THOSE SUGAR SPRINKLES YOU LIKE ROTISSERIE CHICKEN ROTISSERIE CHICKEN YUMMY DELICIOUS SO GREASY AND WONDERFUL. Drives me nuts.

Close to my House
------------------

Pro: Safeway is close to my house!

Con: Safeway is close to my house. This means that I can only buy very few things at a time, because the car is parked halfway in between my house and Safeway. I would feel stupid walking to the car, driving it 1.5 blocks, buying stuff, loading up the car, driving it three blocks, unloading it, and parking it again 1.5 blocks away. Also, I'm not secure enough yet to preempt my inevitable old-asian-lady-self by wheeling my black wired cart to and fro. So I just buy a few things that are light and walk them home.

Everyone Shops at Safeway
--------------------------

Pro: Everyone shops at Safeway! I run into friends and people I like in the neighborhood at Safeway. We chit chat while our carts eye each other suspiciously, and then go our separate ways. It's nice to have a pleasant interaction with a friendly neighborly acquaintance!

Con: Everyone shops at Safeway. Once, after I was coming home from the gym, I was salivating at the cheese selection. It's this small island of a cheese kiosk that's near the rotisserie chicken kiosk I mentioned earlier. All of the sudden I hear this voice that says, 'Wow. WOW. You have REALLY nice calves. Those. look. great.' And then he walked away. blegagh. Barf all over you.

Genetically Modified Tomatoes
-----------------------------

Pro: Tomatoes are great no matter what. Definitely on my top three of vegetables. Also, mutant tomatoes last forever in your refrigerator and don't mold until weeks later. Amazing! Way to defy science.

Con: Even though tomatoes are great no matter what, Safeway Tomatoes are tasteless and not very juicy and look bored at the dinner table and pout when they are sent to their rooms.

To be honest, I haven't decided whether the cons outweigh the pros enough for me to keep on paying three times as much for the same stuff at Bi-Rite, the hipster organic grocery store where all of the clerks have emo haircuts, diesel jeans, and high cheekbones. I think until I decide, I will just eat what I have in my house, which means that I will have some delicious sort of rice noodle boullion cube egg miracle whip cream of mushroom pureed tomato i can't believe it's not butter stir fry. yay!

Sick!

2006-10-31T20:11:00.000-08:00

Today was Halloween, so I dressed up as Hello Kitty.

But I am sick, so instead of walking around outside and fawning all over little kids dressed up as lions/skunks/pirates tonight, I am sitting on my futon with my long striped socks and eating saltines and drinking ginger ale.

Some math for you:

+

+

= happy.

What about being sick makes this equation more appealing than other equations? And, more particularly, what about being sick makes my normal, happy equations so unpalatable? a la:

+

=

In related news, being sick also apparently makes me too lazy to change the station when NPR becomes boring, which is about every hour for 15 minutes, and too tired to reach my water from across the coffee table. Being sick sucks.

Industrialize Your Life

2006-10-29T20:51:00.000-08:00

i have recently discovered a wonderful and phonetically straightforward catalog called U-Line, and through our short acquaintance over the past few weeks, i've realized that U-Line is the industrialized solution to many life problems, which very few publications can boast, aside from Reader's Digest.

Problem:

I know too many people, and I can't keep them all straight! I want a quick and easy way to remember each of my past experiences with each person. U-Line, can you help me?

Solution:

Why yes, yes I can. I recommend these plentiful and color inventory labels.

Ahem. You may be more interested in these specific labels.

Actually, you'll probably be most interested in this one.

Problem:

The bathroom of your home looks too personal, comfortable, and well-decorated. What to do?

Solution:

That should help.

Problem:

You have invited 40 people to your birthday brunch, when you know fucking well that your studio apartment only comfortably holds 5.

Solution:

Have each person take a number upon entry, and invite your favorite numbers in first. Organize your party in half hour shifts of numbers 1-5, then 6-10, then 11-15, etc.

Problem:

You're dying to play Win Lose or Draw, but you only have half-used legal pads laying around the apartment, and it's just not the same.

Solution:

Look! If you buy 4 or more, they're $52 instead of $55 each.

Problem:

You love learning new words but have run out of words, after having learned the dictionary already.

Solution:

Seriously. What are these.

In sum, U-Line offers many viable and affordable solutions to a wide variety of general life problems, especially if you buy like a fucking billion of them all at once.

Re vs Pro

2006-10-17T21:10:00.000-07:00

I realized today that I intensely like a number of things that were wildly popular a long time ago.

1. 'Remember the Time' by Michael Jackson and 'Something About You' by Level 42

I thought that 'Remember the Time' was the cheesiest, stupidest, dorkiest song ever when it came out in 1992. I rediscovered it in college, around the year 2000, and I think it's so bomb ass it's still on my Top 25 Played playlist.

I was hanging around at my friend's office at work the other day, and 'Something About You' was streaming over internet radio. My friend said, 'I love this station. I feel like I'm at a dentist's office, all day.' I ran back to my desk to download it and it is soooooo awesome. It's been on repeat for a full 48 hours. Can I demonstrate why?

there's something abooouuuuuuuuutt
the wwaaay
you aahhhhhh so riiiiiihiiiittteeee
don't want to be without yooouuuuu
baaabbbbbahhhh
toniiiiiittttteeeee

2. The color teal

When I was six I refused to wear anything that was pink or teal, because those colors were for sissy girls. Instead, I invested my time and energy in much more stylish clothing, including matching sweatpant outfits that featured skiing bears. My mom made them for me, and the complete ensemble included not only a sweatshirt, but also pants and a skirt.

Now I have a teal bag, teal shelf, teal belt, and multiple items of teal clothing. Another reason why teal is so great is because it's a good candidate for anagrams.

eat
lat
let
tea
late
tale

3. Rubik's cube

The other day this engineer came into our office and spotted the rubik's cube that was sitting on top of my co-worker's desk. He said, 'oh. yes. it bothers me when it's not solved. may i solve it, please?' Bill had had the cube for months and had been trying to solve it for that long. Lars, the engineer, solved it in the best 6 seconds of my life.

We had our meeting, but before he left, I asked him if I messed it up again, would he mind solving it again? Not at all. Thus passed the second best six seconds of my life. You can see his website, which includes his own personal seven-step method for solving the cube. http://lar5.com/cube/index.html

So far I am stuck, because I first need to buy one.

I guess my overall question is this: have I regressed so much that I'm back in the 1908s, 1992 at the latest? Or am I progressing so slowly such that only now am I starting to like things that were popular 14 years ago? Or, lastly, do the enduring traits of these three things transcend the bounds of time?

I am scared of the answer so I will stop thinking about it now.

Eternal Flame

2006-10-16T22:36:00.001-07:00

While my list of loves is constantly in flux and inclues an extensive list of animals, vegetables, and minerals, two primary categories have been on the list for a while:

1. Food
2. Clothes

My basic philosophy is that if it's a quality item, than it should go well with everything else in its category. Let's test it.

My Favorite Foods (in random order)
-----------------

(a) tomatoes
(b) mushrooms
(c) broccoli
(d) brussell sprouts
(e) cheese (any kind)
(f) rice
(g) eggs (in any format)
(h) mashed potatoes (mashed only, please)
(i) green onions
(j) pickles

My Favorite Clothes (iro)
-------------------

(a) houndstooth jacket
(b) black patent leather kitten heeled shoes with grained heel
(c) dark denim
(d) black v neck sweater
(e) gold dangly earrings
(f) short shorts
(g) black blazer
(h) black and white v neck striped sweater
(i) lacoste shirt
(j) silver sparkly peep toe mary janes (they look better than they sound)

Now let's take a random group of these things. Better yet, let's spell out a word. A word like fade.

Food
----
(f) rice
(a) tomatoes
(d) brussell sprouts
(e) cheese

Clothes
-------
(f) short shorts
(a) houndstooth jacket
(d) black v neck sweater
(e) gold dangly earrings

Do you see?? Do you see how this works? Rice, tomatoes, and brussell sprouts sound delicious. We can have the cheese before the meal. All appetizer-like.

Black v neck sweater with shorty shorts, gold dangly earrings, and a houndstooth jacket sounds like what I wore last Friday.

Excellent! So, my big conclusion for this posting is that

is that

I'm right! I'm always right!

Reconciliation

2006-10-10T20:29:00.000-07:00

i sort of like the word reconciliation because it's relevant on many levels: a relationship with a friend, a relationship between nations, or a relationship between a bank account and a checkbook. i only sort of like because it does not possess a lot of things that i like about particular words, including being fun to say, containing the letter 'x,' and not having too many syllables.

that being said, i've been having recent troubles reconciling my seemingly insatiable lust for beautiful, expensive things (a) with my deep-seated and die-hard passion for cheapo crap (b).

Exhibit (a)

Design Within Reach
LC4 Chaise Lounge - Leather
$2,195

Exhibit (b)

Chinatown
Rice Bowl
$.59

Is there a solution to this? Is it OK to mix miu miu with Hanes wifebeaters? Or does my entire wardrobe have to be outfitted by Prada? Is it OK if my apartment has been furnished solely by Le Mart de K?

My answer right now is yes, primarily because the former is financially impossible and the latter doesn't have a location in the bay area, that i know of. However, I'm inclined to think that even if I had an unlimited bank account, that my answer would still be yes, for the following reasons:

1. Less devastation when apartment burns down
2. Hanes wifebeats yellow easily and require frequent replenishing

mm hmm. Those are two excellent reasons.

Once I met a friend of a friend who said that when he was working PR in NYC several years ago, he could only afford McDonald's yogurt parfaits for dinner, but shopped at Saks. This is the same friend who came to visit San Francisco, at which time my friend said to him, 'Where is that vest from?' And he said, 'Prahhdahh.' And my friend said, 'Oh. I thought you were going to say Old Navy.'

I do not want this to happen to me. The only thing more devastating that spending $450 on a fleece vest is having your friends thinks that you bought it for $4.50 at Old Navy, which is neither old nor remotely related to the navy.

Which brings me to my final conclusion. If I'm going to buy something that is severely overpriced, it'd better pay off. This means that:

1. It is supremely more comfortable than the same product by a cheaper brand
2. It is a ridiculously unique product that no other company is knocking off
3. It's obnoxious, such that people comment on it, and you are able to reply nonchalantly, 'oh, it's by miu miu.'
4. It does my homework

If it doesn't fall into one of these four categories, I recommend aborting the purchase and blowing that money on your apartment. Seriously. That sofa looks like shit.

Two Things Masquerading As Other Things

2006-09-22T23:15:00.000-07:00

1.

today my friend bill at work showed me this picture of his friend's cat.

it reminded me of this illustration my sister did for a 'new baby' greeting card.

2.

a)

b)

c)

mmm what? ah yes. yes, that's a panda dressed up like a dog.

International Male makes me want to laugh hysterically and barf all at the same time

2006-08-15T21:07:00.000-07:00

because I had an abnormally productive couple of days this past weekend, I'd like to document them for you item by item; less as entertainment for you, and more as proof for myself that i can get things done occasionally.

because this is going to be really boring, i've decided to interspere pictures from the International Male catalog (internationalmale.com) in completely illogical intervals throughout.

Friday, 8/11

3pm: leave work. hurrah!

4pm: do some work at home and write a massive email to my manager. boo!

4:45pm: venture to zeitgeist, a bar with a huge outdoor patio and bbq with my friend cathy. hurrah!

5pm-9pm: drink many many many pitchers

9:30pm: shower

9:45pm: zzzz

Saturday, 8/12

8:00am: yawn, stretch

8:05am: prepare laundry for exciting morning at el laundromat

8:15am: receive call from good friend aj, who proposes that we go have coffee instead.

8:45am-11am: chit chat drink coffee eat bagel yap yap yap with aj

11am: errands in the catro. these include:
-going to walgreens. i bought woolite, pomade, animal crackers, and some chewing gum.
-going to the cleaners to pick up my pants that have been altered
-going back to walgreens because my animal crackers are suspiciously stale. the imprinted date just above the lion says 3/2/2006. i make a face and head back to walgreens to execute my first return of a product that costs less than $1.20

12:30pm: hop on the n-judah to go to the haight to get my eyes checked.

i love getting my eyes checked. i have terrible, horrible eyesight, and because i generally think things that i'm really bad at that aren't my fault are sort of interesting, i always interrogate the doctor and relearn basic physical laws of lenses and focal points every time i go.

the doctor is super cool; she looks young and hip and asian. i'm a little disappointed because she's very business-like and doesn't seem like she's very interested in giving me a personal lecture about what the cornea does. instead, i just sit there and try to answer her questions as accurately as possible without getting nervous since my intense fear of failure extends to even the lamest of exams.

E......T......K.......B.....................spot?
V......P........R......N..........fuzzy?
Q.......C......E........L......that looks like a tulip.

2
3
5
same
i have to choose one?
fine. 7.
er, 8.
those look the same.
i mean 9!
10!
9!
hate this.

1:30pm: the streneous exam being over, i get the well-deserved award of hanging out with kathleen and jason, who help me pick out some glasses.

they have the most incredible memories EVER. i've been in city optix maybe 4 or 5 times in the past 2.5 years. every time i go in, kathleen remembers me, remembers that i have a pair of cat-eye oliver peoples, remembers my sister, remembers all of the swedish glasses she's purchased there, and remembers that she's moved to boston recently.

i think this is fascinating because i forget almost everything.

in any case, she helps me pick out these RAD sama glasses that are chesnut brown and have houndstooth laser cut into the top, in cream. they are bomb.

2:30pm: i get back on the n-judah and i am ravenously hungry.

3:00pm: grab the saturday paper and go to have some pho by myself. in a sheer act of indulgence, i decide to also order an iced tea and also some shrimp spring rolls.

4:00pm: go over to therapy boutique and browse around and get intimidated by the hipsters. find a magical pair of low heeled black boots that i can scrunch down and wear low. season-appropriate fall footwear is mine.

5:15pm: go back home and sweep and mop for the first time in eons. enjoy this feeling of walking around barefoot and not having filthy feet afterwards

5:45pm: practice piano

6:45pm: start doing things for a v. important work project

workworkworkworkworkworkwork

9:45pm: get a call from my friend noah, who says he's at casanova. it was miraculous timing: i had just left my house to go to the corner store to get some tuna salad materials for dinner, but went for a beer instead.

10:45pm: back home. worked some more.

11:45pm: asleep.

let's have a closer look at those sandals, shall we?

Sunday, 8/13

6:45am: realize that i accidentally set my work alarm for sunday. fuck!

7:00am: organize laundry

7:30am: head to star wash, get americano at the cafe next door

7:35am-10:00am: do work/laundry/lots of yawning

11:00am: get a call from aj and irvin to have coffee. we go and chit chat some more.

12pm-2pm: messing about. messmessmess

3pm-5pm: have piano lesson

5:30pm: head to dolores park and get pissy because i have missed out on what was an allegedly stupidfun barbeque that is just now winding down. it involved a giant slip n' slide and vegetable oil and all of my friends. rats.

6:30pm: meet john and scott and justin out at the transfer and watch good-looking gay men get dates for the night

7:30pm-10pm: dinner at chow

10:00pm: dinner #2 at marcelo's

11:30pm: zzzzzzz

but wait!!! there's more:

YESSSS!

perfect for when you want to leave several buttons undone!!

OR

wear ALONE, with SHORTS OR JEANS!!

mwaaaaaaahahahahahahhahahaa

kills me.

Moments of Defeat

2006-08-14T22:30:00.000-07:00

there are several scenarios in which i have a much higher chance of feeling as though i have failed in life than i usually do in my normal life.

1. selling clothes to a hip secondhand store

the promise is so compelling. have clothes that you never wear anymore, occupying valuable cubic inches of real estate in your studio apartment? get rid of them! get paid for it, too!

this is such a crock. first of all, you have to go through the heartbreaking process of going through al of your shopping failures, relive this 'cute or ugly?' nonsense, and realize that you answered incorrectly many, many times.

second, you have to stuff all of this into some giant shopping bags that you had to fish out from under your sink, and sadly remember that this may not be the first time that this skirt has met this bag.

third, you have to truck all of this junk on the 22-Fillmore and go up to the Crossroads that actually pays you relatively well. and since the 22-Fillmore is always crowded on the weekends, you're probably standing in the middle of the bus, knocking your bags into people, and starting to sweat a tiny bit.

fourth, you have to stand there and watch asymmetrical-haircut-girl use as little surface area of her index fingers and thumbs as possible to pick up each article of clothing gingerly, judge it with a poker face, and quietly fold it over to the right hand side of the wrinkly pile that you start to recognize as your personal Forever 21 landfill. after it's all over, she pushes the new pile that's accumulated back towards you, rests her left hand on the tse cashmere sweater that you accidentally shrinked in the wash because you're an idiot and says, 'we'll take this. would you like $1.50 in store credit or $1.00 in cash?'

2. going to the dentist

see: hoo haw

3. trying on boots

i have huge calves. every time i see a pair of great boots i think, maybe! just maybe, this leather will be really really stretchy. maybe it is a new special hybrid polymer of leather and elastic. maybe.

it never is, and all my dreams of being in a fall j.crew catalog poof away.

4. selling back college textbooks

berkeley was filled with people who fancied themselves down-to-earth geniuses with hearts of gold for going to a public university. from my classes, you'd think that everyone had self-cultivated (forced or not) a desire for esoteric knowledge that you'd never use again. the more obscure, the better.

not a TRACE of this at the campus bookstore at the end of the semester. lugging your books to the bookstore is bad enough (see: selling clothes to a hip secondhand store), as is someone judging my wardrobe, but not my textbooks! my classes! my brain! my intellectual livelihood!

the muted yet complete disdain on the faces of the people who work the campus bookstores and the Crossroads on Fillmore is the same. the only noticeable difference between them is that the tattered cardigan of the campus bookstore girl is actually vintage and not from Anthropologie.

what do all of these scenarios have in common? perhaps it is that all of these scenarios are significant because success in them is indicative of an earlier victory that i've always wanted. these would be: having clothes that someone wants even after i've worn and decided to discard from my Elite Closet. possessing well-behaved teeth that are white and pristine, even when you peer inside of my mouth. having svelte and slim legs that slip easily into boots that complete a polished yet low-maintenance look, come autumn. studying a subject and materials that my peers also find intriguing and worthwhile.

i think what is much more likely is that all of these places have some grouchy mcgrouchersons who work for them who give me the judgmental eyeball once they've made an assessment of the situation, and then decide to apply it to me.

to all of you who i've encountered: screw you! i don't care if you don't want to buy back Dynamic physical chemistry;: A textbook of thermodynamics, equilibra, and kinetics. i didn't read it anyway. fuckers.

hoo haw

2006-08-14T22:11:00.000-07:00

what is all of this sudden hoo haw about celebrities all about? lindsey lohan this, eva longoria that, hair, tits, new nose, clothing line, triple threat, blah blah. complete bullshit.

in an mostly silent and completely ignored personal act of defiance, i've decided to create my very own hoo haw about flossing.

sort of a disgusting ritual, if you think about it. remember that pot roast you ate earlier today? i'll bet you one of my oxen and a pound of sugar that 4% of that roast is stuck in between about 16 teeth. remember: the purpose of your teeth is to tear apart large pieces of dead animal into smaller bits so they can journey to your stomach with ease and joy. unfortunately, the very, very small bits get stuck.

please: take this piece of string. wrestle it in between the slots where two teeth are right close to each other. saw away at it, and you'll get that 4% out. you may also experience some discomfort in the gums. in turn, you get (allegedly) no cavities, and (definitely) a less-humiliating experience at the dentist should you have sinfully chosen to drink yourself into oblivion instead of floss like an upright citizen.

the act of flossing reminds me of how gross my teeth are, which isn't something that i really want relive each night before i go to bed.

ow
ow
ow
ow
oh there's the cavity that got filled my senior year
ow
ooh!
eesh
uck
ah. there's the one that they scraped away at for 45 minutes, declared that it was a near- root canal miss, and shook their heads disapprovingly at as if i had just been caught stealing lunch money
oof
ouch
eek
fuck. this is the tooth that starts bleeding if you blink at it.

flossing is, in general, not fun.

hoo haw: do it anyway.

Positive Reinforcement

2006-08-14T22:06:00.000-07:00

my office at work has started granting ourselves extremely well-deserved and not at all outlandish awards for our outstanding work in a number of life arenas. over the past several weeks, we've awarded ourselves the following (accomplishment/award format/granted to/awarded by):

Ah, but before we get to that, i should first introduce our office. it's me, laura, bill, joan, and helen. cathy is my good friend that you met at zeitgeist previously (see Friday, 4:45pm), who is often in our office.

'Best Office Award'/ribbon/our office/Cathy

We think Cathy is bomb and she thinks we're cool too. Also, we have a window, which is nice to sit close to while you're taking a little break from work.

'Participant'/ribbon/our office/Bill

because we are here. we show up. pretty generally, we are around. and also because these were the only awards that bill claims he ever got in elementary school.

'Bravery'/medal + ribbon/?/Bill

i don't recall any of us doing particularly brave lately, so i have no idea how we earned this.

'Honesty'/medal + ribbon/me/Bill

the other day i got this errant email from some admin that gave me access to a spreadsheet filled with detailed performance reviews for other people in the company. i didn't open it. it is for this reason that bill awarded me the ribbon for Honesty.

'Shoes'/ribbon + graphic (think: leg lamp in Christmas Story)/me/Bill

i didn't really win this. i basically told bill to give me a shoe award, so he went up and drew it on the whiteboard.

'Best Beard'/statuette/Joan/Bill

because it is important to recognize everyone's strengths, and mine is shoes, i thought of what bill's may be. he has a spectacularly well-groomed beard, and went up to draw the award himself and then realized that it was stupid to be granting himself an award. so i made joan draw it, since she's an actual legit artist.

it's the best award so far. it's a statuette of a beard. a standalone beard. when i asked that a face be drawn, bill pointed out, 'it isn't the best face with a beard award. it's just the best beard award.'

award yourself something. it doesn't matter if it's less of a strength or talent, and more of a distinguishing character that is particular to you because it makes it a lot less likely that someone will beat you and earn the ribbon for themselves.

introducing: biff

2006-08-14T21:35:00.000-07:00

i bought a plant several weeks ago. i went into the store and announced that i had always wanted a plant, desperately, and loudly commented that if they didn't recommend a plant that could withstand weeks of unintentional neglect and possble outright abuse (also not wholly intentional, as everyone runs out of tp at some point), i may very well never love again.

the friendly man at the store half-smiled and asked me, the retarded child, to use my index finger to point at a plant i thought was pretty and may want to own.

i pointed to a rather boisterous and friendly looking plant close to my feet, and declared eloquently that it 'looked nice.'

'aha!' he said, relieved. 'that one is particularly hearty.'

excellent! i thought to myself.

i proceeded to then interrogate the other nice man working at the store about everything that i needed to know. and because i know nothing, i asked him everything.

does it need soil?
what size pot should it be in?
how often should i water it?
what will happen if i don't water it?
will it hate me?
will it write me a poor review on rotten tomatoes?
does it need fertilizer?
why?
how is it like plant food? i mean, seriously. what's in this? vitamins or some shit?

i bought the recommended sized pot, a big bag of soil, and a small container of fertilizer with a dropper cap. i was very excited.

and then i walked home many blocks, and by the time i got home my arms were tired and i was no longer excited.

i potted the new arrival in the bathtub, next to my loofah and salon shampoo. he looked a little foolish, but studio apartments do not often come with a nice yard in which it is pleasant to pot new plants.

thus, the new plant being in a new home with lots of new soil, i placed him carefully on my cream lacquered coffee table on top of a swedish dishcloth i bought from ikea. he looked so happy i left him and gave him an affectionate pat on the highest leaf.

because i live in a moderately sketchy area and i am a short-ish asian girl who is not at all menacing unless you've eaten the rest of my lunch, i decided that i needed tough guy to protect me, should a rude intruder make his/her way into my second floor studio.

introducing: biff.

Weekend at Home

2005-06-13T21:25:00.000-07:00

Weekly to bi-weekly telephone conversations with my parents usually consist of questions from the following list:

1. where are you?
2. have you eaten [insert nearest meal here] ?
3. what did you eat?
4. how did you cook it?
5. why did you fry it?
6. you know that baking it tastes just as good and it’s better for you. less work, also.

oh wait, that isn’t a question.

6. how’s work?
7. are you learning something?
8. it’s important to learn something new every day.

sorry.

8. what did you do yesterday?
9. what are you doing today?
10. shopping again?
11. don’t buy anything full price. wait until it’s 40 or 50 percent off. (pause for my argument) It’s ok if it’s a little bit ugly. You said you don’t want to get married anyway, so who cares?

It’s a rhetorical question, but a question nonetheless.

A weekend at home with the parents in person is not much different. On hearing that I was traveling home for the weekend, someone asked me, “So what do you do when you hang out with your parents?” And I said, “Do? What do we do?” And he said, “Yeah. Like, what kind of stuff do you guys do together?” And I said, “uhhhhhhhhh. hmm, good question. umm. eeeehhhhhhhhh.”

After some careful thought and consideration (and live examples), I am pleased to announce that I was able to make a short list of things that I do when I’m hanging with the parents. Notice that this is a list of things that “I” do, not necessarily that “we” do.

a) make small talk (refer to questions above).

b) watch my dad cook.

this usually includes a mini-cooking lecture about something incredibly useful, such as the Most Efficient Way to Unpeel Garlic.

c) read one of the magazines scattered messily on the coffee table.

These are usually very recent National Geographics or TIME magazines from the late 90s. I have no idea how this happens.

d) go grocery shopping.

Grocery shopping with my mother is one of the most inefficient processes I have ever witnessed, but this is her passion, so I’m not passing judgment. An inextraordinary shopping expedition with mom will be fun and painless, spent browsing around the asian snack and candy aisles, until she informs me that we must now relocate to the grocery down the street because they have the best Obscure Green Vegetable. This is fine. I’m all about quality.

Around 25 minutes into the second grocery, I am remembering that all asian snacks and candies are pretty much the same, and I start thinking about how much plastic is used to wrap such a small quantity of sugar bombs. After I hunt down mom, I find her removing her glasses to meticulously inspect the minute differences between these fifteen different bags of dried shrimp. I whine, and she says, “OK! Almost done. Now we just need tomatoes.”

This gigantic grocery store has ginger flavored gummi bears, tanks of giant lobster, coffee flavored jello, but no tomatoes. I grumpily drive her to the third grocery store and am thoroughly annoyed by the time we are driving home. For a minute I think about the fact that maybe I should work on developing more finesse in distinguishing the finer qualities in fresh produce and fine foods in general and how I should appreciate that my mother is good at this and also at mechanical physics until I decide that developing finesse for food and/or physics is too much work and that we must be fundamentally wired differently and will never be able to fully relate, and it is around this time that we get home and I

e) play the piano.

It’s always nice to have this fallback when I start to exaggerate very minor interactions with the parents into grave and overwhelmingly large life issues. It’s not always the fallback...I’ve always liked playing the piano, although it’s more frustrating because I suck now. But it’s a nice reminder of my career as a wannabe prodigy, and I think the Rachmaninoff makes my parents feel a tiny bit better about spending mad cash on a gorgeous, neglected Steinway grand that spends most of the year as a matte lacquered coaster with excellent tone.

f) eat dinner and then salty snacks afterwards.

Dinner is always delicious and tasty. My dad has been cooking for the past few years because he finds it theraputic, which is fabulous because my mother and I despise cooking. My mother because she cooked dinner every day for 25 years and I because I am lazy.

Conversation is filled by my parents, who talk about friends and work (they work together) in Taiwanese. I sit there and eat and space out, because I don’t speak Taiwanese, and understand only very basic sentences such as “Come eat dinner,” and “Go vacuum your room.” I didn’t realize that it was slightly strange and very rude to be blatantly excluded from a dinner conversation until a good friend from college pointed this out.

g) watching a two-hour program on pbs

first because we are asian and fancy ourselves educated and erudite, and second because our local reception is so shitty that the only other stations that come in are showing programs featuring either the food dehydrator or people speaking spanish. There is a wide range of possibilities for the actual content of the program, but, as always, there are popular recidivists, classifiable in the following three categories.

a: Historical. I don’t know exactly why my dad enjoys watching these, because he knows all of this information already. He preempts the narrator with accurate dates, involved parties, and geographic migratory patterns when applicable (nomadic populations).

b: Natural. We watch these to completion. They’re very interesting. Did you know that when sea anemones are broken apart by rocks, that each new piece becomes a new sea anemone? Gross! Fascinating!

c: Celtic. My parents are obssessed with anything that has to do with Ireland, or the UK in general. They used to be focused purely on anything produced by the BBC, but they have since branched out, and this past Saturday we watched a two-hour special featuring women from Ireland singing random pretty songs. Not sure when sharing a fairly common talent with other women that also live in your country of 4 million became so special such that a PBS pledge drive feature was in order, but whatever.

It may not sound like the most riveting weekend, but it’s always nice and relaxing to go back to a familiar and contained situation.

WELCOME

2005-06-05T16:53:00.000-07:00

to my tiny apartment.

hello! good to see you. you need to borrow two eggs?

yup--i’m so glad you were home when i called. i didn’t feel like running to the store.

what are you making?

i’m trying to make lemon bars.

how gourmet!

yea i think so, but we’ll see.

I can’t believe that you’ve never seen my apartment and you live so close. Would you like a beverage?

sure

I have Red Stripe, Harp, ice water, cold water, and warm water.

red stripe, please.

excellent choice. be right back.

whistling

here we are.

thank you!

cheers (clink). here, let me give you a quick tour of zee apartment. my room is right there behind you. go ahead.

aaah. great bay windows. love the clock.

why thank you. the clock was my first real voluntary home decor purchase.

looking around
it’s...umm...minimal. post-modern. sparse. essential.

mmm yes...i don’t have passion for home decor. whatever. i save money that way. i sort of wish i wanted to chase after a blonde oak end table with angled glass accents...it seems so romantic and sophisticated to be in hot pursuit of expensive pieces of furniture.

do you have nice furniture?

uhhh...ikea? i guess i know what i like when i see it, and i can envision things in different parts of my room when i see them in a store. i want everything, but can’t afford anything. ikea and i have a love/hate relationship.

i classify ikea in a similar functional category as forever 21. there can be good finds here and there, but you have to be en guard, lest you get attacked by immense amounts of crap when you walk in the door. isn’t ikea swedish for crap?

probably. i’ll consult my babelfish later.

roaming eyes
nice shoes.

uhh thanks.

you don’t like them?

no, it’s not that. i LOVE them. mm. my lust for shoes is both inspiring and embarrasing.

why?

look at them. they’re ridiculous.

they’re hot.

why thank you. i’d like to think so. but look:
12 pairs.
all pointy toed, except for two.

it’s so excessive. i have two feet.

the sheer volume is ridiculous. this is why it’s good that i don’t lust after furniture--a pair of shoes is much less expensive than a sofa. but still expensive enough.

i like the canary yellow ones.

ooooooooooooh thank you. i love those. they’re the latest addition. 80s kitsch is back with a vengance.

seriously. speaking of which, do you have the new new order album?

naah. heard good things about it, though. i figured i made my contribution by buying the new tears for fears.

fair enough.

let me show you the kitchen. it looks like you need another drink anyway...you have all day for lemon bars.

walking

oh, here’s the split bath--

pausing for a brief inspection

more walking

here’s the kitchen.

adorable!

microscopic!

aww, it’s so sweet. i like these big comfy chairs you have here.

yea, since it’s the only common space we try to make it living room-ish in this 3 by 7 foot area at the end. harp?

yes, please.

pop
pop

i like all the plants, too.

ah yes. i contributed almost nothing to the communal areas of the apartment. it’s all my roommates--they’re good about decorating and making it warm and welcoming...i’m not so much of a gardener/botanist. i sort of wish i was.

come now. i’m sure you contribute a lot.

yes, i brought a really nice can opener. works like a dream--smooth and perfect. i think it’s german.

oh! a patio!

yea! also small and cute, in keeping with the general theme of the apartment. we’re growing strawberries.

do you guys sit out here often?

mmm not really. occasionally i’ll sit out there and talk on the phone, but mainly i just check in on the strawberries and avoid the obnoxious old man that lives across the way, in the other building.

obnoxious old man?

mm yes. he’s a nice guy--but he’s always sitting on his tiny square of a patio and smoking and reading shit mystery novels. when i first moved in, i thought about how friendly and chatty he was when we first started talking...but then the conversation never ended. i think that we were talking about the pigeons. he complained about pigeons and how filthy they were for at least ten minutes, which is a long-ass time to be having a substanceless conversation with your old-man-neighbor-across-the-way.

i figure, inspect the strawberries and avoid eye contact. i leave him to his singular talent of rotting his lungs and his brain at the same time.

what a reductive statement.

yea. that’s my talent.

did you want your eggs?

sure, that’d be fab! thanks again. love the apartment.

why thank you! here you are. i want a lemon bar when you’re done.