It was about 3 in the morning when I woke up with an exciting new perspective on human pollution. I thought, “Wouldn’t it be weird if people had special habitats for yawning and sneezing in the same way they have special habitats for peeing and defecating?” Like if someone was sitting at a dinner table and had to hiccup, she would have to excuse herself to the hiccup room and everyone would judge her if she didn’t wash her hands afterwards.
Self-absorbed party wrap-up
I try to be charming at parties, and yet I always end up dry humping someone by the bar or threatening to steal a girl’s baby. I lose people’s jackets, I feed hyper kids too many cookies, and if certain friends haven’t arrived by a certain hour, I make angry, drunken phone calls demanding their presence. But the important thing is that I have a good time. I always manage to have a good time. I am glad that the party ended when it did though, because otherwise I might have proposed mooning cars or playing the fainting game and I would have weirded out my last remaining friends. I didn’t go to many parties in high school and college was no disco, so I think I am still stuck in that middle school party place, where you want everyone to overeat popcorn and candy, gossip about celebrity haircuts, take forbidden drags of cigarettes, and make a public nuisance. And then it’s one in the morning and your guests are bloated, drunk, or pregnant, and they all want to go home. I, on the other hand, want to keep hanging out and play Truth or Dare or Ouija Board, but instead I put all my Pepsi and vodka-induced energy into washing the party dishes and sweeping the floor while the bbf passes out watching The Goonies, and then I kiss him on the cheek and I can pretend we’re playing house in the 1980s.
Thanks to everyone who came to our party! If you didn’t get an invitation I promise it was an oversight or I think you smell bad.
The perils of eating
I just sneezed while eating a mouthful of almonds and now my shirt sleeve looks like the top of an ice cream sundae.
I ate burritos with the Governor
Let me preface this story by saying that Barack Obama gives a killer stump speech. If I go to a political rally in the cold, I expect a lot of high falutin’ promises, righteous anger at George W. Bush’s administration, and humorous yet telling anecdotes that will inspire me to clap my hands and hence raise my core body temperature. Last night my fingertips remained numb, but I liked the candidate, and he liked me. At least, I feel that he has faith in people in general (and yes, my emotions will determine the next President). I think that genuine faith in oneself leads to faith in other people which leads to honesty and transparency in the White House.
Obama reminds me of the great college professor who listens carefully to the stupid question you just barely articulated/blurted out in class, then uses his superior wisdom and vocabulary to ask it back to you (“Do you mean ___?” “Yes, sir/ma’am.”), then leads the whole room in a lively and enlightening discussion of the possible answers to the question you actually didn’t ask but in an ideal world where you are smarter and have an extra hour to think in a hyperbaric oxygen chamber before class, you might have. And he gives you credit for the whole thing. Good guy, that Obama. I like his wife too.
After the rally, we went out for Mexican food (thanks Dad). To their credit, the employees of Guadalajara were not overly star struck when I walked into the restaurant, nor when Virginia Governor Tim Kaine walked in moments later with a small entourage. Before Governor Kaine had a chance to sit down and order a beverage, we leapt up to shake his hand. This was sort of a blur. I think I said something like “wonderful job” and then slapped him hard on his heavily trench-coated shoulder. Then I quickly sat down and ordered a beer. He was a swell guy though. I enjoyed his introduction of Senator Obama at the rally. At dinner I kept wanting to stand up and make a speech for Kaine’s benefit, like “This is what America is all about! Eating Mexican food and laughing with my family! I’m fired up!” He stopped at our table and said a nice goodbye before he used the Guad restroom. This made Darren wonder if the Secret Service encouraged him to climb out bathroom windows into waiting limos after he dined in public, but actually he used the restroom like a normal person and probably only said goodbye to us beforehand because he had to walk by our table to get to the facilities and we were all staring at him. Then (of course) we joked about sticking sexy notes or men’s shoes under the door while he was in there. But we didn’t because we were too busy talking about reality TV.
Governor Tim Kaine, please don’t hate me for publicizing your lack of restroom exploits. You do good work and my dad was right – last night Guadalajara missed out on a great opportunity to start a “Wall of Fame.” They totally could have photographed us together.
My triumphant Halloween costume
Yes, I have a Halloween costume this year. And yes, it’s a miracle of being clever without being pretentious. And yes, you will probably need a visual aide to understand what I am, but I will have this visual aide on hand for when you compliment my outfit. I remember a Halloween party I attended once where a graduate student wore a noose around his neck and a name-tag that said “Chad.” He was a “hanging chad.” I was like “Gimme a break, asshole.” Anyway my costume is awesome this year and I’m not even showing skin. Please invite me to your party so I can gloat about how adorable I look.
Editor for Hire
I wish that I could hire myself as an editor, but I am much better at telling other people what to do. It’s hard to detach myself from my own writing. That being said, I have a lot of editing experience, and I’d love to help you get your book published.
paper rock blog
Last night D & I sat on the couch after soccer practice and cuddled with our laptops. We find that after a long and arduous day, sometimes the only thing that rejuvenates our spirits is making that quality time with our loved one – the internet. D kept bragging about the awesome blog he was writing (“this blog is so good it’s going to make people have diarrhea”) and I felt inadequate because I didn’t have anything to blog about. For inspiration I surfed the internet, which is less than blogging. [blogging>surfing>programming>?] When D looked over my shoulder and saw that I wasn’t editing a new post in WordPress like he was, he snickered, “Too bad we don’t have a cat or you could be blogging about it.” Tonight I am going to stay in and blog him out of the water. I will blog him until he bleeds. No one gets away with making fun of my blog. I may publish letters written by cats, but I would never give a cat its own post. Unless the cat did something reeeeally cute. But it would have to be an inordinately slow news day.
I am kicking ass in our Netflix queue…
Not so much for the embarrassing stuff I’ve watched recently (I’m talking to you Terri Hatcher and Eva Longoria), but for what I have lined up. Today the BBC documentary Planet Earth arrived in the mail. Darren had never heard of it and I had only heard good things. Since we were neither starving nor hibernating, we ordered lots of food and watched famished baby polar bears roll down hills. My favorite parts were when the bird of paradise did its mating dance in New Guinea and when the Great White shark lunged from the water in slo-mo. If only the documentary recorded the last words of that doomed South African seal. Anyway I am pleased with this current Netflix choice, and next in the queue I reserved the first season of the Sarah Silverman Program. Soon Darren will forget that I once added Gia to the top of our list.