littlewashu: (samurai - surprised)
Hey, things of note happened this weekend! Let me tell you them:

On Friday um . . . . oh, the debate! I went to the Manse and got drunk watching the debate. It wasn't a slam dunk by any means, but I thought our man looked all right. Whatever though, Bush embarrassed the shit out of himself last time, and people still voted for him, so I don't think debates are all that important anymore. I am hype as hell for the VP debate on Thursday, though, cuz that lady is WACK and I can't wait for her to embarrass the shit out of herself in front of everybody. Did you see her interview with Katie Couric? Good lord. The only good thing about Sarah Palin is her Starfleet-issue wardrobe.

Then on Saturday Chris and I went to wiffleball (he played, I watched) and then went to the parking lot of the Linc to tailgate prior to the Phillies game at 4pm. If you didn't know, it was the second-to-last game: if the Phillies won, they'd clinch the NL East; if they lost, they had to win their last game. So we met up with Chris's buddies from work, ate some hamburgers, drank some beers, and went in to the game.

It was my first and last Phillies game this season (I also went to a Mets game earlier in the season: so long, Shea! (PS I wore my Phillies shirt to the Mets game; Sean was embarrassed, and Mitch said I was his hero.)) It was a good game! We were in the nosebleeds near the right field foul post. I bought cotton candy.

And we WON! Holy cow it was amazing. The energy in that place was phenomenal. I high fived every single person I passed on our way out the stadium, and through the parking lot, etc etc.

HOWEVER: bad news folks. We get to my car, and Chris is like, "dude, your tire is flat." Balls! I have had low tires for a while, but no one can get the caps off, and I've been putting off seeing a man about it. Well, I still had a few beers coursing through my veins, so I took in stride. "Well, we'll just have to change it," I said, throwing open the hatchback door. "Whoa, BOTH your tires are flat," Chris called. We went around the other side. All four tires were flat.

My friends, it became clear upon further investigation that someone had slashed all four of my tires. Yes that's right! Amazing, isn't it? Who know anyone out there disliked me so much.

Seriously though, what? The mind boggles. Who would do such a thing? Why would anyone do that to a fellow Phillies fan? At a game where we clinched the division? The folks tailgating to the rear of my car theorized that it was because I had Jersey plates. I -- what?? That doesn't even make any sense. I'm sure half the cars there were from Jersey. Maryland plates, while still TOTALLY FUCKED UP, would at least make slightly more logical sense (we were playing the Nationals). The folks with that amazing theory also said that they were out there during the whole game, and saw nothing. At the time I was like "uh okay" and in the light of sober day, I wish I had gotten their information. Because that sounds fishy.

There are only two more theories: a case of misidentification. Some other blue Scion xB owner pissed somebody off, and I bore the brunt of the retaliation. OR, it was the dude who Chris pissed off on the way in to the parking lot: he was trying to squeeze into the entrance ahead of us, cutting 5 or 6 people off, and Chris kept inching up so as to keep him out. I was leaning back against the headrest with my eyes closed, pretending I was anywhere else, because I do not like how Chris interacts with other people when driving (other people are stupid and FUCKING CRAZY, and it is not worth it to me to make an issue of every minor infraction that other drivers commit. Chris disagrees. This was the first time I chose to be the Silent Sleeping I'm-Not-Here-Person, instead of the Nagging Girlfriend. And look where it got me.) Eventually the other driver rolled down his window and said "hey, fuckface, are you going to let me in or what?" and Chris apparently ignored him. But I mean, the dude got in ahead of us! But that is our best lead. I wish we had gotten HIS license plate number as well. (By the way, after reminding me of this guy later, post-slashing, Chris immediately retracted the dude as a possible suspect. You'll have to ask him why; sure it's unlikely, but it's our only lead.)

Seriously though, who DOES such a thing? I mean you have to be mentally unstable to do such a mean-spirited thing to someone you don't even know. People are crazy.

ANYWAY.

I wish I had written down more people's license plate numbers, but I didn't. We called AAA, and they had a flatbed out there in less than 30 minutes. The dude was super nice and friendly, and we made it home in good time, whereupon everybody told me I smelled like alcohol. I scooted to work today, and my car will be ready by the time I get home (with new brakes to boot.) Chris has chivalrously offered to pay for half of the cost of the tires. And he is no longer allowed to drive my car in any situation where we might possibly have to interact with other drivers. It's a shame, he just got his garbage disposal privileges back after clogging up my shit two Valentine's Days ago with lobster.

So then! Sunday! I napped in front of football, which, after outside, is my favorite place to nap. I made a boneheaded decisions in re: my fantasy leagues, and only won one game (out of three). BUT! I chose Jacksonville when everyone and their brother (not my brother, though) chose Denver or Dallas in our suicide league, and the field has been narrowed to FOUR! So that is exciting. The Eagles lost, it was pretty awful. I'm trying not to dwell.

So to sum up: Hooray for the Phillies! Boo to one particular Phillies fan! Hooray for football in general! Boo to the Birds! All in all, the good outweighs the bad this weekend.
littlewashu: (spock and isis)
A moment ago, I heard Henry pushing at the door to come in, so I let him in and closed the door behind him without looking at him. As I walked back to my computer chair, he crouched alongside and put something down on the ground. "Ah no, man," I said. He caught a bird once, brought it to me, meowing proudly. This time he was silent, he just seemed like he wanted to be left alone so that he could start eating the thing. I leaned down to push him away from what I discovered was the BAT that he had caught. A BAT! A tiny bat the size of a sparrow! Maaaan. Proud or pissed off? It's a tough call. A bat, man! Bats are way cool. But man, what dumbass bat gets caught by my dumbass cat?

Hey, while we're on the subject of tiny flying animals, Saturday afternoon Chris and I were watching the Venture Brothers in the game room at the Manse, and we heard this . . . scrabbling noise, coming from the wood stove. It happened a few times before I looked over and exclaimed, "there's a bird in your stove!" A tiny brown lady sparrow, peering out the window. Chris I think was content to leave her to her own devices, but I insisted that there was no way a bird could fly straight UP a narrow chimney for 25 feet, and kept coming up with overly-elaborate, asinine ways to get her out that involved laundry baskets and/or bath towels. Finally Chris instructed me to open the door to the outside, and then stand in the doorway to the kitchen with a blanket, and he just opened the stove door wide. When she appeared again (she kept disappearing, presumably hiding in the vents at the top of the stove,) she gaily flew straight out the door, singing her thanks as she went. I named her Waffles.
littlewashu: (dr. zoidberg)
So, since I found the time to tell you about my fascinating unicycle dream (Shia Labouf was in it as well, in a non-sexy role. I do not know why), I thought I'd also mention that I totally dropped my scooter a few weeks ago! I was coming home from a hair appointment, it was on the White Horse Pike across the street from Lucien's. The road was just really bumpy, but I was trying to maintain a reasonable speed of 40 mph or so, and it just bounced, and I bounced, and since it's a dumb scooter my butt was off the seat and my feet were off the floor and I was just holding on to the handles. Well, I didn't keep it straight enough I guess, because the whole thing slid out from under me and I rolled for about 20-25 feet. But I was pretty much fine! I had a few scrapes, but they're mostly healed up by now. My full face helmet was all scratched along one jaw line, so WEAR A FULL FACE HELMET. And my wrists were scraped, but probably wouldn't have been if I had fastened my gloves properly (and my hands were fine,) so WEAR GLOVES. And my jeans were only ripped at my pocket, because my house key was in there, so WEAR JEANS.

My scooter's a little scraped up too, and the front fender is bent, but aside from that, she's fine. The people in the car dealership in front of which I crashed all ran out to help me, and no one had been driving right behind me, so we were able to wheel the scoot off of the road without incident. It felt like I was rolling FOREVER. Like, I kept thinking, "Okay, I want to get up now. Nope, still rolling. Now can I stand up? Nope, still rolling." Then finally I stopped rolling and stood up and was dizzy.

Chris came to pick up me and the scooter in Vince's truck. I read my book whilst I waited. I was a tough cookie until he arrived, and then of course I cried a little (but I'm allowed.) And he cleaned my wounds and I screamed because I am a huge baby about pain. But all in all, my first crash was much less horrific than I'd always imagined it to be. So, hooray!

So really, not too big a deal, and everyone who sees me in real life has already heard about it, but I figured I'd record it for posterity. I'm sorry that I have no pictures to show you, but the only ones I took of my battle scars are of me topless, and I'm nothing if not classy here on LiveJournal.

Have a great Memorial Day Weekend, everybody! I get to leave work in ONE HOUR and I am super excited.
littlewashu: (raleigh st. claire)
I took Henry to the vet yesterday.

I had been looking forward to this for weeks, because I'm a cat lady.  I'm not a "cat lady in the making", I'm a goddamned cat lady.  Oh well.

I think I was excited partly because I was just excited to be a responsible mom.  I got Henry when he was six weeks old.  I took him to the vet a bunch of times right after I got him -- for the requisite kitten shots, &c, as well as dealing with the things that were wrong with him when I got him (he was sick, and I had to give him medicine, as well as put this gel stuff on his eyeballs.  ON HIS EYEBALLS.  It actually always went better than it should have).  The last time he had seen a vet was when he got neutered -- he was done with his shots, and I was moving.  That was four and a half years ago.

So finally I was taking him to the doctor!  I yam so responsible!  He can get the shots he maybe needs even though he never goes out!  [Oh man that reminds me, I never told you guys about our attempted walk!  It was short-lived and hilarious!  I took him outside on a leash on a beautiful Spring day and he was scared to death and HOWLED and scratched at the door to come inside.  What a pussy!  Then three days later when I was waving goodbye to my parents, he snuck out. Why are you sneaking out if you know you don't want to be out there in the first place, you stupid cat?  I just walked over to the bushes where he was and said "come back inside!" and he hissed at me and eventually got spooked and ran back into the apartment.]  But I think in addition to being excited about being responsible (I'm not responsible often, so I always think very highly of myself when I do something major, like putting away the clean laundry, or mopping the kitchen floor), I was just excited to be doing something with my cat.  I mean, all we ever do is watch TV together.  And I'm not even sure he's paying much attention to the teevee.  But isn't that so sad?  I'm looking for social activities to enjoy with my cat.  I rule!  Only, the opposite of that!

So last night I zip home from work, slip into something more comfortable, and put the cat in the cat carrier (which is sort of not really big enough for him.  He takes up all the space inside of it.)  He wasn't thrilled about going in, but didn't put up too much of a fight, because he had no idea what he was getting into.

The carrier wouldn't really fit into the shotgun seat, so I put him in the back.  He cried a little during the 15-minute ride to the vet.  He wasn't happy.  I felt so badly for him. [I remember all the times taking him to the vet back in the day, though. I'd put the carrier in the seat next to me, and he cried and cried, the whole way there. I'd put my fingers through the grate and he'd cover my finger with his paw, as though that comforted him. God that killed me. I really do love that guy.]

He was very quiet in the waiting room.  He observed Darryl, the house cat at the vet's, silently.  I could tell he was nervous and scared.

I went into the examination room with the doctor and let him out of the carrier. He was just quiet and silent and terrified until the vet came over to comb him (checking for fleas, presumably) and that's when Henry FLIPPED OUT.  It was so embarrassing.  He was howling and trying to kill everyone and squirming and yelling and biting and scratching.  The doc gave me big heavy leather gloves to put on when I held him, but the gloves scared Henry even MORE, so it was sort of a Catch-22.  Hank was growling at the vet when he was trying to listen via stethoscope to his breathing and heartbeat, so that he couldn't really hear what was going on.  He only ended up being outside the carrier for three or four minutes.  I held him tightly whilst the doc gave him a needle in his flank, from behind, and Henry was so worked up I don't think he even noticed.  Then the vet opened the door to the carrier and I let go and Henry shot right into it.  And that was that.

The doc said something about feline leukemia, but that he'd have to get at a VEIN in order to do that.  Haha.  Hahaha.  I was tempted to ask if it would be possible to sedate him first -- give him a little laughing gas, perhaps -- because really, that is not going to happen.

It was so, so mortifying.  I said lamely "he used to be much worse" and the doc said "worse??" but you guys, Henry really isn't like that anymore!  He's not like that at HOME! 

For the drive home, I slid the seat back and put the carrier in the shotgun seat.  I opened the top of the carrier so that Hank could sit up and check out what was going on, which he did, but after a moment he just chilly-chilled in the carrier, sitting down.  I was grumpy.  I scolded him for embarrassing me, and didn't care about going over bumpy road, or shifting awkwardly, as I had on the way there.

I had intended on getting a picture of him in the carrier, but I forgot.  As soon as we were in the apartment, I set the thing down and opened the door, and he shot up the stairs.

Later in the evening, we laid together on the couch and I forgave him.  Poor kid.  He was just so scared, you know?  He lives a very sheltered life, he doesn't interact with anything but me and my friends.  I don't pick him up very often (he's heavy), though later in the evening I tried to, just to see, and he didn't mind at all.  He just sat there in my arms, resting on my belly, being very heavy, for as long as it was comfortable for me to hold him.  He just didn't like the doctor, he didn't like being up on that stainless steel table, he didn't like being in that cage and then not being in it.  And so he reverted to adolescent behavior, he was scared and he lashed out.  How can I blame him for not having any balls when I'm the one who paid to have them lopped off?  But man, OTHER pets get scared, and they don't lash out, they don't try to kill and maim!  They cower!  Why didn't he cower?  Should I be happy he didn't cower?  I don't know.

Also, I think I need to cut his claws back further.  I only clip the tippy-tips, because I'm so paranoid about cutting the vein.  But the doctor said "those claws are sharp," even though I just cut them Sunday.  I have to be braver.

Oh and he's NOT fat.  He's NOT fat!  Haha!  I mean he could stand to lose a pound or two, and he certainly shouldn't GAIN any weight, but he is not fat and the doctor said it would not be appropriate to put him on a diet!  So there.

In lieu of a new picture of Henry, here's an older one from this past October.


(It's hard to tell, but he's actually lying on his back, with his back legs splayed open like some kind of pervert.)

And then here's a really old one, from 2000.  The quarter is for scale.



God, I'm such a sucker for redheads.

eating out

Jan. 28th, 2004 11:44 am
littlewashu: (kurt)
HAPPY BIRTHDAY MICHELLE!

It is Michelle's birthday today. We're going out to dinner, just as I have with her every year since freshman year of college, 1997, when we went to Bennigans. I'm excited.

The night before last, it freezingly rained. Cars were coated with ice the following morning, pebbled, like the window in a bathroom of an old house. Like at 508.

Last night, it freezingly rained, and then snowed on top of that. But the rain was the bit that caused us trouble. Mitch and I were supposed to go to Twenty Manning, as a part of Center City Restaurant Week. When I drove home from work, it wasn't really raining yet. I knew it would, but I figured I could handle it. So I wouldn't wear a skirt after all. Big deal!

But then Mitch arrived and said he didn't know if we should go. I was skeptical. My feet slipped around on the ice a bit as I circled my car, clearing the melting ice from my warming car windows; but I was determind. This was Restaurant Week! This was Asian fusion! There was a VENISON MEATLOAF on the menu! One of the possible desserts was FONDUE!!!1 We were going, goddammit! I am an excellent driver!

I don't know why Mitch chose to put his life in my hands, but he did. For about 45 seconds, until we got to the hill at the end of my street and I slid halfway down it at 5mph, ABS brakes fluttering. "That's it, we're not going," Mitch announced. OKAY FINE. We will go some other time.

Mitch asked if we could make it to the diner around the corner, but there are lots of restaurants on Blackwood-Clementon Road, which is close, and very straight, and very flat. I didn't put on eyeliner and PANTS to sit in a diner. So we went to Filomena's. It was great. The wine was delicious (Lockwood somethingorother Chardonnay), Mitch had the special -- chicken with walnuts on it in a raspberry sauce over spring greens -- which he really liked (I had a bite, the raspberry thing was too weird for me -- I don't like pineapples on my ham, either), and I had lobster and shrimp in a spicy marinara over pasta. It was very very good, but was also pretty spicy, so I had to rest my delicate mouth between bites, and I didn't end up eating much. But it was delicious. And our waiter was awesome, I tipped big.

Then we came home to my apartment and watched the Real World, and The Osbournes, and then we started watching Deep Space Nine, but I had had half a bottle of wine, and I fell the fuck asleep, so I didn't make it very far.

So it turned out to be a pretty nice night! And I spent less at Filomena's with food PLUS the bottle of wine, than the $60 that would have gotten us the meal only. And I will go to Twenty Manning someday, because it sounds fantastic.

Tonight I'm going to the Black Sheep Pub with Teege and Jeff and Michelle. It's going to be awesome.
littlewashu: (Default)
Man, I was trying to unwrap a Rolo with one hand whilst talking on the phone, and I was standing over the trash can so that I could drop the foil into it, and just as I was putting the Rolo up to my lips IT DROPPED OUT OF MY HAND AND FELL INTO THE TRASH!!

Man. It's a good thing I have, like, forty thousand Rolos left, or my weekend would be totally ruined.
littlewashu: (paul)
Man, fuck you, Healthy Choice Vegetable Beef Soup! You totally suck! I didn't even dip my bread in you, that's how much you sucked! I only ate some of the potatoes and a few of the carrots! The tiny pieces of beef were so dry and flavorless that they weren't even worth eating! Also, your mother!

I was so disappointed when Wawa didn't have beef stew today. My Wawa has had beef stew on most Tuesdays. It's a pretty damn good beef stew, in my opinion. Hmm, you know what I should do? I should make a big huge batch of beef stew on Sunday (mine is way better than Wawa's), and then bring it to work with me for the rest of the week. I totally should! I also totally will never ever do that! It seems like I never have enough time to do anything. I'm not complaining, though (honestly, I am not) because my time is taken up by hanging out with my friends, and hanging out with my friends is, in my opinion, the reason for living.

Friends like Michelle! You guys, I hung out with Michelle last night! A WEEK NIGHT!! I can't remember the last time I hung out with Michelle on a weeknight that we weren't on vacation. Oh wait yes I can, it was a few years ago when I drove up to her place in Plainsboro so that we could watch the season premieres of Must See TV. That may seem silly to you, but Michelle and I were college roommates, and that's what we DID, we watched Friends, and we watched all of Thursday nights, and I missed Michelle and wanted to watch that shit with her. Michelle and I haven't lived closer than an hour's drive from each other since we graduated three and a half years ago, but she and Teege got a place in Delran, which is only 30 minutes away, and I am the happiest little nerd about it. I went over last night, and the place is great. (Michelle always lives in better places than I do. I've only been in one place since college, though, and she's been in five (5).) We painted the insides of her kitchen cabinets. And then I sat in her and Teege's bed whilst she unpacked clothes. I couldn't stop smiling, I was just so happy to see Michelle on a weekday. I will get to see her all the time now! I will see her on weekends! She and Teege lived an hour away from each other for the past year, the year they were falling in love and all that, so they spent every weekend visiting each other, which I understand, I can remember what that was like! But now they live together and can spend the weekends with ME. And everyone else who wants to see them. Which is everyone, because they are two of the funnest people ever. But especially Jeff, Jeff and I are Michelle's biggest fans. And Teege isn't so bad himself.

I could go on and on gushing about Michelle and how happy I am, but maybe I'll save that for her birthday next week. I'm not sure what to get for her.

I had a Little Christmas party last week! It was pretty good, I think! I wasn't ready, though, and I spent too much of the beginning of the party finishing the food preparation, which should have been completed before the first guest arrived. (And I even cancelled making two (2) things, hummus and some veggie tomato rice salad thing). I will do better next time. Big ups to Chris and Brian McGowan for helping out in the kitchen -- two of the brightest culinary stars I know, and I had them chopping vegetables. Also a thousand thank yous to Vince for fixing the lock to my door, which happed to freeze or get jammed or something right in the beginning of the party, leaving my potential guests on the other, cold side of the door. And to Kelly for bringing spinach dip, which lasted -- literally -- about ten minutes, tops. And to Mitch for coming over a bit early and assembling furniture (!) for me. And to M and Jenny for coming all the way down from Brooklyn for the party. And to Manning and Tami for picking their asses up at the trizznain station. And to other people who did favors for me I'm not thinking of right now. And to everyone for just showing up!

There were about thirty people in my tiny apartment! I think that's pretty good! I made three (3) batches of the mulled wine, and it all got dranken up! Mulled wine is good. Weird, but good. This is the third year I've made it, and this year on the Queer Eye Christmas special, the cooking guy -- I can't remember his name, but he's my favorite, he's so dreamy -- recommended making mulled wine at a holiday party!! I am so ahead of the queer curve that I can't even STAND it. (I also liked girls before it was trendy.)

Oh man, and my downstairs neighbor showed up! Here is how the scene played out, as told to me by Jeff and then confirmed by Michelle:

(knocking at the door)
Michelle: (from the top of the stairs) Come in!
guy from downstairs: (walking up the stairs) Oh, hello, Kerry?
Michelle: No. If you don't know who Kerry is, why are you coming to her party?
guy from downstairs: I'm her neighbor, I live downstairs
Michelle: Oh! Your Christmas lights match Kerry's! (she says she doesn't know why she said this)
guy from downstairs: Actually, I just moved in. Those are my mom's.
Michelle: You live with your mom?

The weird guy from downstairs (maybe late thirties, early forties) brought with him a (opened) bottle of scotch, which was very nice of him, he just didn't want to come empty-handed, I suppose. I talked to him for a while in the kitchen, then Kate showed up (all the way from North Jersey!) and I escaped. He didn't talk to anybody! Oh wait yes he did, but he was weird about it and freaked people out. He totally freaked out Manning and Tami by trying to talk to them about their piercings whilst they were making out or something (Manning and Tami making out in my kitchen during a party is another subject altogether), and then he tried to talk to Dave about my remote control car and Dave LEFT, or something, I don't know, Dave jetted without saying goodbye (MAJOR FAUX PAS, DAVE, IT AIN'T A PARTY IF YOU DON'T GET DRUNK AND ASSAULT MY CAT). But then he was standing in my kitchen not talking to anybody, and my back was to him, and Ill said something about him, like who is that mustachioed guy, and I said I don't know but I hope he leaves soon, and oh man I think he might have heard us, because he put on his jacket and left without saying goodbye! I feel really badly about that, poor guy. I hope he didn't really hear us. That was mean of me to say, I should have kept my big mouth shut. Ah well.

But so that's that! Nothing got too crazy, but I think it was a pretty okay shindig anyway. I can't wait until I have a house, then I will have parties all of the time.

All right, I have to get back to work. So long, suckers.
littlewashu: (Default)
I was just talking to Mitch on the phone about something, and it reminded me of this bar I went to a while back, called Tequila Joe's. It's up in North Jersey somewhere, I forget the town. I went there probably the first summer I was 21, which was 1999 or some shit. So it was one of the first bars I ever went to. OH I just remembered we were there the day before the People's Prom (ask Manning about that one, that patriotic fuck). ANYWAY, it had lots of floors and lots of rooms, yadda yadda yadda, and I ended up making out with this dude who claimed he was a model, and he kept trying to put his hand up my skirt. I also was kissed and skirt-hand-upped on the dance floor by some strange dude who was all UP IN MY GRILL and shit and kissing me without my permission. So, gross, I guess, but he wasn't ugly, I don't think (it was dark), so you know, there's a story. Albeit a short one.

ANYWAY, the reason I remembered it was because Mitch was talking about that short on Liquid Television about the dude whose house was crashing in as he ate an egg, and he was cursing in Italian. OH MAN Liquid Television. Now there was some hot shit. I'm actually surprised it didn't last longer than it did, and surprised they haven't brought it back. Or that Cartoon Network doesn't have a show of shorts, on a non-Adult Swim/Toonami night or sumpin'. I have a tape of Liquid Television that I taped during a marathon. It's as prized as my Dr. Katz tapes. But man, I taped over the first two hours with MONTY PYTHON AND THE SEARCH FOR THE HOLY GRAIL. God damn me. It seemed like the right thing to do at the time.

ANYWAY, so one of the rooms at Tequila Joe's was the obligatory 80's room. They had 80's music playing. And they had a swing at one end, just a regular swing, hung from the ceiling. You had to stand by it and look at the girl swinging on it hungrily, until she got bored and left and then you could nonchalantly go up to it because it's not like you wanted to SWING or anything, that's just silly. And on the wall behind the swing they projected Liquid Television, swear to God. No sound, of course. Now this was back in the olden days, in the Nineties, half of you probably don't even remember that far back. DVD's were not an option, so some motherfucker must've just had these shits lyin' around or something. It was hot shit.

Also at Tequila Joe's, but not sponsored by Tequila Joe's, rather appearing as regular patrons, were 1) some guy dressed up in a Noid* costume, [oh MAN it must have been fucking hot in that thing], and 2) some guy nicknamed "Pony Boy" [or not, I don't really remember, but it seems plausible] who wore a real live leather saddle on his back. He would let any girl who bought him a drink ride him for a minute or two.


*You know, the Noid? Avoid the Noid? Domino's Pizza, back when it was there in thrity minutes or less, or you got three bucks off? Ahhhh, kids. Of course, the Noid was LONG gone by 1999, which, you know, makes the dude even . . . cleverer. (?)
littlewashu: (Default)
What a surreal drive home. Maybe not surreal, just . . . odd.

So first of all, I'm in the parking lot, and I pull out, but as I'm pulling out I see the boy at work who I've recently decided to like, so he makes me nervous, because I have my eye on him as he's walking to his car. So I start going foward, only to see that because I've been watching him and not what I was doing, I haven't pulled out of the space enough, so like an idjit I have to reverse some more and then leave. Then at the first light I notice his black Golf is right behind me, so I'm still a little nervous. I keep my eye on him the whole time. He follows me straight at the light, then left at the four-way stop. I begin to hope that he's going to follow me home and ask me out on a date. Then there's another light at the top of the hill, and he's still behind me. The lady who was at the light when I got there, in the right lane, starts creepin' like a creepah into the intersection, until she's fully in the middle of the damn thing. Easily two car lengths in front of the stop line. Now, I'm normally a real stickler about shit like that, but that is effing ridiculous. And she's going straight! And we have a lead green! Man. If the cute boy hadn't been behind me, I would have been sitting on the horn the whole time, but I don't want him to think I'm a psycho, so I just toot once or twice. So finally the light turns green, and the lady goes, and since she's already halfway there I fall in behind her (it turns into one lane on the other side of the light after a bit). So of course she's going 30 the whole time, which, granted, is the speed limit, but everybody usually goes 40. So I'm right on her ass, but I can't say anything because she's not under the limit. So there's this whole line of people piling up behind us, and she starts slowing down, like she's going to turn into my apartment complex entrance, but of course no blinker. So we're slowing down, and people are getting impatient and wanting to go around us, which there isn't really room to do, AND then one of the cars from way back gets onto the shoulder, like they're going to pass this line of cars on the right to get into the complex. Well, I'm making that turn too, but I'm not in the shoulder, because it's a SHOULDER, NOT A ROADWAY, and I don't mind the extra THREE seconds it would save me. But the car is a silver Tiberon, and my next door neighbor has a silver Tiberon, and God forbid it's her and I honk at her a lot. So I have to sorta lean into the shoulder, so that she knows I'm heading where she is, and she shouldn't pass me. FINALLY the dumb bitch in front of me turns in, and of course this whole time I've got my eye on the cute guy, but he goes straight, which is fine, and the Tiberon comes in behind me, and yes, it's my neighbor. With cute boy safely gone, I lay on the horn a long time in the direction of the Creeping Lady, but it's probably like when I put Henry under an upside-down laundry basket after he bites me on the face: it's been 30 seconds, which is way too long in stupid bitch/stupid cat time, and she probably has no idea what I'm honking about. So THEN I get to my apartment, and this other car has just pulled in right in front, and this gaggle of unfamiliar people (plus the old lady who lives down and to the left) gets out of the unfamiliar car, and walking to meet them from the down and to the left apartment is this GUY who I would swear is homeless or some shit, his hair is all crazy and he's got a beard and his shirt has only one button buttoned, and the breeze is blowing his shirt around, so his big round belly is sittin' out in the breeze. And of the people getting out of the car, one kid has flowers. So I fumble in my car a little so I won't have to pass them, and it seems my Tiberon neighbor is doing the same, and then finally the gaggle is closer to their door, they're approaching this dude, and they've left the car running with a kid in it and a door open, I guess they're dropping the lady and the flowers off and taking the homeless dude with them. So my neighbor gets out, and I get out, and I make my way inside.

So, you know, nothing earth-shattering? Just a little on the eventful side for a five-minute drive.
littlewashu: (mr. robin)
On Monday June 24th, which is a while ago now, we went to Morimoto. "We" being myself, Jon, Kate, Manning, and Tami; and "Morimoto" being the best damn restaurant in Philly. The chef is Masaharu Morimoto, one of the original Iron Chefs. It's a Stephen Starr restaurant. Stephen Starr is this Philadelphian restauranteur who comes up with all these amazingly expensive and interesting restaurants. I'd never been to one before.

But no really, Morimoto, which just opened about six months ago (last summer, when I was unemployed? And thinking about maybe getting a job as a bartender somewhere? They had ads in the classifieds about needing servers and bartenders and whatnot for the new Morimoto restaurant, but it seemed a little out of my league. It is), is considered by many to be the best restaurant in Philly at the present time, in competition with Le Bec-Fin. So there were a lot of amazing things about Morimoto. Everything about Morimoto was amazing, nothing was regular. It would take me forever to tell you everything, so I'll tell you about just two things:

1. Our chopsticks rested on little smooth stones.

2. The lobster.

Tami ordered lobster sashimi for the whole table, to be brought out as an appemetizer. Our waiter was named Tyler, and he was the cutest damn thing you ever saw, gorgeous, with glasses -- mmm -- and SO excited about the food, SO animated, and therefore assumed to be SO gay. Which is fine. Tyler warns us that the lobster may still be moving when it's brought out -- he says that that puts some people off, but man, our eyes just got all real wide and we said "Okay!!" Jon said something about being 71% goth.

So the lobster comes out. He's served in an ice bucket, and he's been torn in half, and his head is sticking up out of the ice right next to his tail. His claws have been ripped off as well. His meat is served "out of shell" in a little pile in front of his face. Ah! The cruelty! He was set upon our table, and we all leaned in. And he was moving! He was! His whole lobster was sitting out there on the ice in front of him, but there he went, waving his antennae around! Waving around those little cuved hands under his nose! Manning poked him with a fork. He was moving! How exciting.

We ate the bastard. Right in front of him. The lobster, I mean, not Manning. He sat there in the ice with his buggy lobster eyes, and we ate him, and MAN was he GOOD. YUM. There were three sauces, I liked the jalapeno best.

Then, after we were done, after he was IN our BELLIES, he started moving again! REALLY moving! He moved his arms around, and pushed against the ice, and even pushed his body up a little! He moved his little arms around! He was so upset! We had eaten him, right in front of him! How disheartening is THAT! We all yelled a lot, and then eventually he stopped, and Tyler came to take the carcass away. Ha. Lobsters. It's okay though, they don't even have brains, they have ganglia or some shit. And MAN was he GOOOD.

PS. Okay I won't talk about any more the cool "stuff" about Morimoto, but man oh man was all the food GOOD. ALL. The FOOD. Was GOOD. I got a steak because I've only had sushi once before, and I was afraid I wouldn't like enough of the stuff, and the point was not to be able to say "ooh look at me, I ate sushi at Morimoto," the point was to have a delicious exquisite meal. Which I did. And then again days later (hooray leftovers!). But I tried some of the sushi, and holy crap was it good, and next time I go -- and I'm going again, I've already made reservations! -- I'm gettin' the chef's selection. Boo yah. You are a genius, Chef Morimoto.
littlewashu: (Default)
Kevin just wrote me to tell me that he was bored. He requested a story about a monkey. He got one.

And in case YOU'RE bored at work too, here y'go:

Once upon a time, there was a blue elephant. All the other elephants
made fun of him for being blue. Hence he was a sad and disconsolate
elephant.

He hung back from the . . . er, pack of elephants. Whatever a group
of elephants is called. If you've ever watched the Discovery
channel, you know that elephants have to trek to the mountains every
dry season to eat the trees that are still around. The bleu elephant
was weak and sad, though, and it didn't look he was going to make it
to the mountain. He sat down under a tree, and watched his family
grow smaller and smaller as they continued on without him.

Then the next morning he was awokened by a monkey, and HE was bright
blue! The monkey said, "yo dawg, what's up? Shouldn't you be
heading to the mountain?"

"Alas, my family has left me. For I am blue, and they make fun of me
and don't trust me and think that I don't belong. So I'm just going
to sit beneath this tree until I waste away. I imagine you have the
same problem I have, right, Blue Monkey?"

"Oh hells no! We monkeys are a silly bunch. Everybody LOVES that I
came out blue! I'm the most popular monkey in my . . . er . . . pack!
Shit, man, I'll get you some water, you can chill with us! They'll
LOVE you!"

So the elephant was happy. The blue monkey brought him some water,
and he was refreshed; and he went to live with the monkeys, and was
very popular and well-liked.

The end.
littlewashu: (Default)
Yay! I bought a digital camcorder. A pretty nice one, for someone who has no camcorder experience whatsoever. It is the first major purchase I have made for myself since I have had this new job with its very decent salary. Well, except my bed that I bought when I moved into my present apartment, but that's different.

I hope I use it. The camcorder, that is -- I use my bed all the time. It's a lot of money to blow on something that could very well spend a lot of time sitting in my closet collecting dust. And I bought it on eBay, and I thought I was getting a nice deal, and it got a sweet review from cnet.com, but now I'm finding these other models, like Panasonics and whatnot, that are cheaper but have similar options, and I'm second guessing myself and worrying that I made a foolish decision, so I have to STOP because I already bought the damn thing and it doesn't matter now.

The decision to purchase a camcorder, by the way, came to me at a very specific moment. And since you asked, I will describe that moment to you now.

A few weekends ago I was hanging out with a few friends, about half of whom were "rolling" (I never touch the stuff). One friend in particular, I'll call him "Dave", took a while to come on, but once he did, he was izzon. He began speaking very intently at my other friend (I'll call him "Mitchell"), who was trying very hard to react to Dave in serious manner.

Dave was giving Mitchell some sort of scenario -- some sort of very serious and complicated scenario. I couldn't hear what he was saying from where I was across the room, but that's all right, because I'm pretty sure he wasn't making much sense anyway. He described this situation to Mitch, always speaking of him in the third person (". . . so Mitch has a farm of camels . . . "). He was talking this way for, oh, I don't know, 4 or 5 minutes. Finally he said, "so what does Mitch do?"

Mitch (who is pretty straight except for a few drinks) thought very carefully and then said, "I'm gonna have to take the 50-50".

Which was funny, because Dave hadn't given him any choices yet.

So Dave had to explain which choices Mitch has just eliminated in choosing the 50-50. He explained "number one, A," in about 2 or 3 minutes I don't remember/didn't hear any of that. He concluded by saying "that's the first one you didn't choose." Then he started explaining choice B. I didn't hear the first 5 minutes of choice B, but after a while it didn't seem possible that Dave could still remember that what he was describing was not a story, but a possible ending to a story, an ending which was false. I do remember the end of it: "and then Mitch came flying up in a hot air balloon [insert arm gestures] with a rainbow painted on it, and banner flying that said 'I Love Everyone'. That's Choice B."

At this point, I and my fellow observer Gina started cracking the fuck up. Not only was the ending very . . . well, wonderful, but the fact that Dave knew the whole time what he was doing was nothing short of remarkable. And funny.

Unfortunately, Dave was for some reason offended by Gina and mine's mirth, and refused to describe the two options that Mitch could choose. He had to choose C or D without hearing them first. I can't remember if he ever got around to doing that or not.

The point of this story (and there is one, I swear) is that Dave's entire monologue was absolute genius, and it is a crime that those moments are lost forever. I want a digital camcorder so that will never happen again. I want a digital camcorder so that I may chronicle every word that comes from Dave's mouth, particularly when he's fucked up. So that when I'm old and alone and sad, I will have something.

Thank you, Dave.

March 2015

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