At the coffee shop near my house where I've been working late mornings/early afternoons all week, yesterday I noticed they had this sign attached to the receipt machine:
"UNATTENDED CHILDREN WILL BE GIVEN AN ESPRESSO AND A FREE PUPPY."
I like it -- gentle humor, but not obnoxious in a hipster way.
Friday, January 9, 2009
E-mail from my mother: holiday dinner.
This afternoon I got this e-mail from my mom:
Hi Guy!
Whatcha up to this weekend? I work. Got Monday, Tuesday off. Quilt class begins on Tuesday. I did sign up for it. Tonight is our annual "Xmas Party"........a buffet dinner at [a restaurant in my town]. Chow time! Years ago, when we had just moved to [my hometown]..........eat at [that restaurant]and you walked out smelling like a french fry.......they had a terrible exhaust system over the fryers. I'm curious to see if there's any improvement........haven't been there in years.
Love, Mom XXXOOOOOOO
I will have to find out if she smelled like a french fry after dinner tonight.
Hi Guy!
Whatcha up to this weekend? I work. Got Monday, Tuesday off. Quilt class begins on Tuesday. I did sign up for it. Tonight is our annual "Xmas Party"........a buffet dinner at [a restaurant in my town]. Chow time! Years ago, when we had just moved to [my hometown]..........eat at [that restaurant]and you walked out smelling like a french fry.......they had a terrible exhaust system over the fryers. I'm curious to see if there's any improvement........haven't been there in years.
Love, Mom XXXOOOOOOO
I will have to find out if she smelled like a french fry after dinner tonight.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Shaving Cream / Documentary.
The other day I ran out of shaving cream and got some from the dollar store downstairs. It was made in China and smells a little funny -- it hissed a lot when I first used it, too -- but I like the logo... It's all professional and slick American-looking, but instead of "MAX" in blue cursive with a downward-jutting "X", it says "MARX".
I just found out about this documentary playing at the film center downtown at the end of this month:
STRANDED:
I’VE COME FROM A PLANE THAT CRASHED IN THE MOUNTAINS
2008, Gonzalo Arijón, France, 126 min.
"Intimate, terrifying and positively riveting."--Andrew O’Hehir, Salon.com
"An exceptional film, at once disturbing and elevating, deliberate yet powerful."--Kenneth Turan, Los Angeles Times
"Packs a knock-out punch."--John Anderson, Variety
The facts made it the biggest news story of its day: a fatal 1972 plane crash in the snow-covered Andes, the near-miraculous emergence of 16 young rugby players weeks after hope had been abandoned, and finally, the startling revelation that the living had survived on the bodies of the dead. The personal story of the survivors in their own words and in face-to-face interviews has never been told, despite the book Alive! and a subsequent Hollywood movie. From their perspective, director Arijón, a childhood friend of the victims, movingly recounts with sensitivity and unprecedented detail, the crash, 72 days of perilous survival, and 35 years living with the aftermath. In Spanish with English subtitles. 35mm. (BS)
I'd go if I wasn't so squeamish. I wonder what it's like to live with cannibalism for 25 years. Ever since I've read this film description, every time I'm out with a group of friends, I've been thinking of what would happen and we were stranded and how I'd feel if I had to eat their corpse to survive.
I just found out about this documentary playing at the film center downtown at the end of this month:
STRANDED:
I’VE COME FROM A PLANE THAT CRASHED IN THE MOUNTAINS
2008, Gonzalo Arijón, France, 126 min.
"Intimate, terrifying and positively riveting."--Andrew O’Hehir, Salon.com
"An exceptional film, at once disturbing and elevating, deliberate yet powerful."--Kenneth Turan, Los Angeles Times
"Packs a knock-out punch."--John Anderson, Variety
The facts made it the biggest news story of its day: a fatal 1972 plane crash in the snow-covered Andes, the near-miraculous emergence of 16 young rugby players weeks after hope had been abandoned, and finally, the startling revelation that the living had survived on the bodies of the dead. The personal story of the survivors in their own words and in face-to-face interviews has never been told, despite the book Alive! and a subsequent Hollywood movie. From their perspective, director Arijón, a childhood friend of the victims, movingly recounts with sensitivity and unprecedented detail, the crash, 72 days of perilous survival, and 35 years living with the aftermath. In Spanish with English subtitles. 35mm. (BS)
I'd go if I wasn't so squeamish. I wonder what it's like to live with cannibalism for 25 years. Ever since I've read this film description, every time I'm out with a group of friends, I've been thinking of what would happen and we were stranded and how I'd feel if I had to eat their corpse to survive.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
2 Addendums.
Tennille gave me an "Asian cut", where she cut my bangs short and shaded it into the rest of my hair, which she made longer on top.
My one mouthy, Jewish friend said that if you insult hipsters cruelly to their face, you own them. She says if she ever gets any lip from them, she's like, "Hey hipster girl, look at that dress you have on, you think that's original?, I can go outside right now and walk down the street and see ten other girls wearing that dress." She said it always works, and I should have done that the other month when the bitchy hipster girl wouldn't let me into the battle of the bands for free or reduced price, even though the thing was almost over.
My one mouthy, Jewish friend said that if you insult hipsters cruelly to their face, you own them. She says if she ever gets any lip from them, she's like, "Hey hipster girl, look at that dress you have on, you think that's original?, I can go outside right now and walk down the street and see ten other girls wearing that dress." She said it always works, and I should have done that the other month when the bitchy hipster girl wouldn't let me into the battle of the bands for free or reduced price, even though the thing was almost over.
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Saw Tennille today.
I ended up getting a haircut today. Tennille and I talked a bit about break, about the weather, and about dogs. She said she's never liked dogs, ever since her family had some and they found a dead rat that one had killed on the lawn.
She also double-checked if my last name was "Plouffe", since a while ago I e-mailed her about salsa lessons in the area, and she knew I had worked for the Obama campaign, and now she's kept been getting e-mails from some guy on the campaign named "David".
Also also, she gave me a free can of pomade when she found out it was my birthday!
She also double-checked if my last name was "Plouffe", since a while ago I e-mailed her about salsa lessons in the area, and she knew I had worked for the Obama campaign, and now she's kept been getting e-mails from some guy on the campaign named "David".
Also also, she gave me a free can of pomade when she found out it was my birthday!
Gave some sausage away.
So, yesterday I gave my four-and-a-half pounds of sausage away. I threw some at some faculty assistants and some deans, and discovered that a few black faculty assitants are vegetarians and a couple have a fear of sodium, as well as some other stuff:
1) One coordinator of something-or-another was like, "What's in it?", and as soon as I said pork, preservatives, and a lot of sodium, she was like, "Thanks but no thanks!" I had forgotten she was Jewish, and told her that she'd be at the top of the list next time I came by with beef or venison sausage.
2) When I stopped by this other office and the older white faculty assistant said it was too much sodium for her, this relatively famous professor of Hinduism who I really don't know walked in, and I made her take four. "This is good!", she was like, as she walked out, biting into one. A non-vegetarian Indian friend of mine was sorting mail in the same office, too, and I made her take four, though she had no place to put them and just had a notebook and pencil with her and was going straight to class.
3) When after lecture I gave like eight to my one Dutch prof to share with her kids and husband, when we had said bye and the kid behind me in line came up to talk with her, she was like, "This is how you get an A," and stuffed them in her purse.
4) When I stopped by the fundraising coordinators office to give her some sausage, they were already running out, but I offered her however many she wanted, and she took three, to help flavor a lentil soup she was making. "Spread the cholesterol around!", she was like, and then showed me the cat that she's been keeping in her office, which she had seen outside all Christmas break and figured was a stray.
5) When I was at the ATM depositing my stipend check, I ran into another ph.d. student and was like, "Want a sausage?", and without a beat, he was like, "Yes, please!"
1) One coordinator of something-or-another was like, "What's in it?", and as soon as I said pork, preservatives, and a lot of sodium, she was like, "Thanks but no thanks!" I had forgotten she was Jewish, and told her that she'd be at the top of the list next time I came by with beef or venison sausage.
2) When I stopped by this other office and the older white faculty assistant said it was too much sodium for her, this relatively famous professor of Hinduism who I really don't know walked in, and I made her take four. "This is good!", she was like, as she walked out, biting into one. A non-vegetarian Indian friend of mine was sorting mail in the same office, too, and I made her take four, though she had no place to put them and just had a notebook and pencil with her and was going straight to class.
3) When after lecture I gave like eight to my one Dutch prof to share with her kids and husband, when we had said bye and the kid behind me in line came up to talk with her, she was like, "This is how you get an A," and stuffed them in her purse.
4) When I stopped by the fundraising coordinators office to give her some sausage, they were already running out, but I offered her however many she wanted, and she took three, to help flavor a lentil soup she was making. "Spread the cholesterol around!", she was like, and then showed me the cat that she's been keeping in her office, which she had seen outside all Christmas break and figured was a stray.
5) When I was at the ATM depositing my stipend check, I ran into another ph.d. student and was like, "Want a sausage?", and without a beat, he was like, "Yes, please!"
Monday, January 5, 2009
Delayed karaoke post.
I had very mixed feelings about the lesbian karaoke bar I went to on New Year's Eve with friends.
On the one hand, the lesbians were pretty cool. The hostess was this 40ish squat Mexican lesbian who opened up with Rickie Valens's "La Bamba", and there was this regular named Jessica, who was 40s and blonde and built broad and did quite a few numbers, including Van Morrison's "Brown Eyed Girl" in this really low, husky, wistful voice (making love in the green grass/ behind the waterfall with you/ brown-eyed girl), and the bartender who was 40s and kind of looked like Courtenay Cox and opened with Jefferson Starship's "We Built This City", and at one point I considered singing Neil Diamond's "Girl, You'll Be a Woman Soon" just because I was at a lesbian karaoke bar, but I decided not to, since I didn't want to be a dick to them.
But, on the other hand, there were a ton of hipsters there, since they started moving into this area not too long ago, which pisses my one loud, mouthy Jewish-looking friend to no end, since she's always saying shit like "We were here first, what the fuck, we've been living here nine years, and now they come and drive up the rents?"
She almost went up and decked a hipster guy, too, when he did this way over-emoted version of Pat Benatar's "Love is a Battlefield" in that predictable over-emoted way that quiet male hipsters do when they do karaoke and think they're being funny by breaking the shit out on loud songs, ironically.
"I love the song and he does that, what the fuck," my loud, mouthy Jewish-looking friend was like, and then went off on some young hipster girl who was dressing like she was from the 40s with a big red fabric flower in her hair and a thin belt high on her waist, all in imitation of some Katy Perry-look alike who she told me is big now on "Project Runway".
Anyhow, I decided to open up with Blondie's "Sunday Girl" since it's fun and kind of poppy and has that whole middle verse in French, only to discover that it was too low in my register to be effective and I couldn't kick it up an octave, and there was no middle verse in French, either.
When I went up to sing, too, the 40ish squat Mexican lesbian karaoke hostess looked at me and was like, "No drink, no drink?", since I came up without a beer in my hands.
After a while, a friend of a friend sang Cher's "Believe", and she had a strong voice, so that came off well, and then it was my turn again, so I started to sing ABBA's "Fernando", only to discover that there's almost no accompaniment on the verses, and so I was straining to catch the tune while I sing, when all of a sudden -- the karaoke machine was set up near the door, by the way -- this hipster girl I hadn't noticed who was heading out grabs the mike from my hand, turns it towards her mouth, and tries to sing along with me, and then as soon as she's done with that, a guy hipster behind her puts his arm around my shoulder and shakes me and screams "WOOOOOO!!!!!" in the microphone, and then a third hipster behind them tried to do something and had put their hands on the mike, but I tore it away and was like, "What the fuck, people? That's just not cool," and stopped singing, though no one in the bar much noticed since it was crowded and loud and no one could much here anyways.
"It's okay, it's okay," the 40ish squat Mexican lesbian karaoke hostess said, but she looked at me suspiciously, like she wasn't pleased, though I was happy that I had stood up to that hipster bullshit, though in retrospect I wish I had tripped one of the first two and made it look accidental, I've never seen anyone be treated at karaoke like that before.
When I got back to the table and I told my friends what had happened, my loud, mouthy Jewish-looking friend said I should have called her up there, she loves to get in fights and would have done something. "Are you sure they went out, or did they just go to grab a cigarette?", she was like.
The mood of the night was over, though, though I tried to be a good sport and sang Melissa Manchester's "Don't Cry Out Loud", only to discover that though I could deliver an effective interpretation of the verses, the climactic words "Don't Cry Out Loud!" were just out of my range, and came out strained.
On the one hand, the lesbians were pretty cool. The hostess was this 40ish squat Mexican lesbian who opened up with Rickie Valens's "La Bamba", and there was this regular named Jessica, who was 40s and blonde and built broad and did quite a few numbers, including Van Morrison's "Brown Eyed Girl" in this really low, husky, wistful voice (making love in the green grass/ behind the waterfall with you/ brown-eyed girl), and the bartender who was 40s and kind of looked like Courtenay Cox and opened with Jefferson Starship's "We Built This City", and at one point I considered singing Neil Diamond's "Girl, You'll Be a Woman Soon" just because I was at a lesbian karaoke bar, but I decided not to, since I didn't want to be a dick to them.
But, on the other hand, there were a ton of hipsters there, since they started moving into this area not too long ago, which pisses my one loud, mouthy Jewish-looking friend to no end, since she's always saying shit like "We were here first, what the fuck, we've been living here nine years, and now they come and drive up the rents?"
She almost went up and decked a hipster guy, too, when he did this way over-emoted version of Pat Benatar's "Love is a Battlefield" in that predictable over-emoted way that quiet male hipsters do when they do karaoke and think they're being funny by breaking the shit out on loud songs, ironically.
"I love the song and he does that, what the fuck," my loud, mouthy Jewish-looking friend was like, and then went off on some young hipster girl who was dressing like she was from the 40s with a big red fabric flower in her hair and a thin belt high on her waist, all in imitation of some Katy Perry-look alike who she told me is big now on "Project Runway".
Anyhow, I decided to open up with Blondie's "Sunday Girl" since it's fun and kind of poppy and has that whole middle verse in French, only to discover that it was too low in my register to be effective and I couldn't kick it up an octave, and there was no middle verse in French, either.
When I went up to sing, too, the 40ish squat Mexican lesbian karaoke hostess looked at me and was like, "No drink, no drink?", since I came up without a beer in my hands.
After a while, a friend of a friend sang Cher's "Believe", and she had a strong voice, so that came off well, and then it was my turn again, so I started to sing ABBA's "Fernando", only to discover that there's almost no accompaniment on the verses, and so I was straining to catch the tune while I sing, when all of a sudden -- the karaoke machine was set up near the door, by the way -- this hipster girl I hadn't noticed who was heading out grabs the mike from my hand, turns it towards her mouth, and tries to sing along with me, and then as soon as she's done with that, a guy hipster behind her puts his arm around my shoulder and shakes me and screams "WOOOOOO!!!!!" in the microphone, and then a third hipster behind them tried to do something and had put their hands on the mike, but I tore it away and was like, "What the fuck, people? That's just not cool," and stopped singing, though no one in the bar much noticed since it was crowded and loud and no one could much here anyways.
"It's okay, it's okay," the 40ish squat Mexican lesbian karaoke hostess said, but she looked at me suspiciously, like she wasn't pleased, though I was happy that I had stood up to that hipster bullshit, though in retrospect I wish I had tripped one of the first two and made it look accidental, I've never seen anyone be treated at karaoke like that before.
When I got back to the table and I told my friends what had happened, my loud, mouthy Jewish-looking friend said I should have called her up there, she loves to get in fights and would have done something. "Are you sure they went out, or did they just go to grab a cigarette?", she was like.
The mood of the night was over, though, though I tried to be a good sport and sang Melissa Manchester's "Don't Cry Out Loud", only to discover that though I could deliver an effective interpretation of the verses, the climactic words "Don't Cry Out Loud!" were just out of my range, and came out strained.
Sunday, January 4, 2009
1 Dream / 2 Tricks of the Eye.
Last night I dreamed that I had a chip in my back right bottom tooth where in actuality I have an incipient cavity, but this chip was like the recent chip in my favorite coffee cup, and I could see it in my head as I ran my tongue over it in the dream.
When I had just gotten up, I looked towards the dining room and for a second when I looked to the dining room, the seats of the chairs under the table took on the form of a demonic black dog.
That reminded me of this really cracked-out night I had before I left my friends I was visiting in Lansing, where I was super-tired and I saw something move on the faucet, and it was water drop sliding down the back, and then down by the edge of the sink cabinet there was this white slit between the cabinet and the carpet where the carpet hadn't been laid down properly, and as I looked at it, it got thinner than bigger than thinner again, though I quickly realized it was an optical illusion depending on whether I stared directly at the crack or not.
When I had just gotten up, I looked towards the dining room and for a second when I looked to the dining room, the seats of the chairs under the table took on the form of a demonic black dog.
That reminded me of this really cracked-out night I had before I left my friends I was visiting in Lansing, where I was super-tired and I saw something move on the faucet, and it was water drop sliding down the back, and then down by the edge of the sink cabinet there was this white slit between the cabinet and the carpet where the carpet hadn't been laid down properly, and as I looked at it, it got thinner than bigger than thinner again, though I quickly realized it was an optical illusion depending on whether I stared directly at the crack or not.
More Obama buttons, etc.
I stopped into the one store in my neighborhood where Sister Rose sells Obama buttons to get a new one -- it's a picture of Obama beside a picture of Martin Luther King, Jr., with the words "STAY BLACK"; when I got it, Sister Rose gave me five and was like, "Yeah, mon!" -- and ended up getting talked into a button that has a picture of Obama besides the words "2008" and "DO FOR SELF", which is a special design that Sister Rose commissioned since she felt that too many people want Obama to do everything for them without wanting to make any efforts for themselves.
She also said her church got 60 tickets to the inauguration and she could go, but it's too much hassle and she's probably going to give up her ticket so a young person can go, which the pastor is encouraging people to do, since it will inspire them.
When I came in, too, an older middle-aged black woman who lives a couple blocks from Obama was talking with Sister Rose, and we all started talking about how the Obamas were moving out. Sister Rose said that a moving van had been there yesterday, and that some church has been going to his house a few times a day to pray outside to get him through till inauguration day, and a few anti-war protestors have been showing up on occasion too, though not as often. We all agreed that the Obamas wouldn't be back too often, and in any case they had taken a lot of their neighborhood friends with them. When I said I felt sorry for the kids being uprooted, the one neighborhood woman was like, "Don't worry about that, kids are resilient and adjust quickly," and then was like, "And besides the person to be sorry for is Michelle, it's hard to find new girlfriends."
She also said her church got 60 tickets to the inauguration and she could go, but it's too much hassle and she's probably going to give up her ticket so a young person can go, which the pastor is encouraging people to do, since it will inspire them.
When I came in, too, an older middle-aged black woman who lives a couple blocks from Obama was talking with Sister Rose, and we all started talking about how the Obamas were moving out. Sister Rose said that a moving van had been there yesterday, and that some church has been going to his house a few times a day to pray outside to get him through till inauguration day, and a few anti-war protestors have been showing up on occasion too, though not as often. We all agreed that the Obamas wouldn't be back too often, and in any case they had taken a lot of their neighborhood friends with them. When I said I felt sorry for the kids being uprooted, the one neighborhood woman was like, "Don't worry about that, kids are resilient and adjust quickly," and then was like, "And besides the person to be sorry for is Michelle, it's hard to find new girlfriends."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
