Thank you, Hob, for my 5:30 AM wake-up call
And, really, I could've used a LITTLE more sleep last night. Hopefully I'll get a nap in later.
Went out with my brother and his girlfriend last night. Didn't get nearly as hammered as the last time we all went out, although I think my brother picked up the slack there. ;) He was not in good shape when I left my parents' house. Still, his gf and I had a nice time chatting after he crashed. Something was said about a Jack n' Jill party today...and something else...okay, so I did have a BIT to drink. Probably not the smartest thing to do when one is sick, but I didn't want to stay home by myself doing school work all evening either.
Oh, I had a shot of straight tequila last night. It actually wasn't that bad. The salt and lime helped, obviously. It wasn't that cheap stuff that got A. and I (mostly A) so wasted back in September.
Hob just meowed at us all. Shake your fists at him angrily. I do not want to be awake.
Oh wait, now he's dragging a stuffed rabbit from my bedroom into the living room.
Okay, so when Borders was having their Teacher Appreciation sale last week, A and I went to pick up some stuff. I finally bought myself Don't Get Too Comfortable: The Indignities of Coach Class, the Torments of Low Thread Count, the Never-Ending Quest for Artisanal Olive Oil, and Other First World Problems by David Rakoff. The book was not, in the end, quite what I expected, but it was still very entertaining (aka many a page has been dog-eared for quotes). Rakoff's experiences range from the movement to minimalize to visiting a cryogenic storage facility (which is actually very reasonably priced). His whole point, thesis if you will, is to show how RIDICULOUS the American life has become, how pampered and over-indulged we are, as a whole.
I will not bombard you with every quote, but I give you a few to think about:
"Amanda Hesser, a generally very fine journalist, writing about fleur de sel, had this to say about sea salt that is harvested in France and available in New York City for $36 a kilo: 'As I ate them, fine crystals of salt sprinkled on the potatoes crackled under my teeth, releasing tiny bursts that tasted of the sea and its minerals. There was no sting at the back of the mouth, no bitterness, just a silky, salty essence wrapping each bit of potato'. Sting at the back of the mouth? Bitterness? What has poor Amanda Hesser been doing all these years to add some savor to her food? Licking undeveloped Polaroids?"--p. 22-23
"Even though the temple onstage has a Latin designation, it feels quite Greek in here. I mean Greek in that binge-drinky, Daliesque-arcs-of-airborne-vomit, ripe-with-the-incipient-danger-of-date-rape, college-fraternity sense of the word, as opposed to the Aegean birthplace of democracy."--p.81
"I suspect Guerriero's family loves him no matter what his party affiliation, and last I checked the Red Sox didn't try to reverse the Curse of the Bambino by crowding all the homos into the obstructed-view seats."--p. 158
"Bodies are bequeathed to Alcor under the Uniform Anatomical Gift Act, the same statue that allows you to give your postmortem organs to the sick, or donate your cadaver so that the first-year anatomy students can cut you up and, if my cousin's medical school experience is any indication, make fun of the size of your penis."--p. 212
Went out with my brother and his girlfriend last night. Didn't get nearly as hammered as the last time we all went out, although I think my brother picked up the slack there. ;) He was not in good shape when I left my parents' house. Still, his gf and I had a nice time chatting after he crashed. Something was said about a Jack n' Jill party today...and something else...okay, so I did have a BIT to drink. Probably not the smartest thing to do when one is sick, but I didn't want to stay home by myself doing school work all evening either.
Oh, I had a shot of straight tequila last night. It actually wasn't that bad. The salt and lime helped, obviously. It wasn't that cheap stuff that got A. and I (mostly A) so wasted back in September.
Hob just meowed at us all. Shake your fists at him angrily. I do not want to be awake.
Oh wait, now he's dragging a stuffed rabbit from my bedroom into the living room.
Okay, so when Borders was having their Teacher Appreciation sale last week, A and I went to pick up some stuff. I finally bought myself Don't Get Too Comfortable: The Indignities of Coach Class, the Torments of Low Thread Count, the Never-Ending Quest for Artisanal Olive Oil, and Other First World Problems by David Rakoff. The book was not, in the end, quite what I expected, but it was still very entertaining (aka many a page has been dog-eared for quotes). Rakoff's experiences range from the movement to minimalize to visiting a cryogenic storage facility (which is actually very reasonably priced). His whole point, thesis if you will, is to show how RIDICULOUS the American life has become, how pampered and over-indulged we are, as a whole.
I will not bombard you with every quote, but I give you a few to think about:
"Amanda Hesser, a generally very fine journalist, writing about fleur de sel, had this to say about sea salt that is harvested in France and available in New York City for $36 a kilo: 'As I ate them, fine crystals of salt sprinkled on the potatoes crackled under my teeth, releasing tiny bursts that tasted of the sea and its minerals. There was no sting at the back of the mouth, no bitterness, just a silky, salty essence wrapping each bit of potato'. Sting at the back of the mouth? Bitterness? What has poor Amanda Hesser been doing all these years to add some savor to her food? Licking undeveloped Polaroids?"--p. 22-23
"Even though the temple onstage has a Latin designation, it feels quite Greek in here. I mean Greek in that binge-drinky, Daliesque-arcs-of-airborne-vomit, ripe-with-the-incipient-danger-of-date-rape, college-fraternity sense of the word, as opposed to the Aegean birthplace of democracy."--p.81
"I suspect Guerriero's family loves him no matter what his party affiliation, and last I checked the Red Sox didn't try to reverse the Curse of the Bambino by crowding all the homos into the obstructed-view seats."--p. 158
"Bodies are bequeathed to Alcor under the Uniform Anatomical Gift Act, the same statue that allows you to give your postmortem organs to the sick, or donate your cadaver so that the first-year anatomy students can cut you up and, if my cousin's medical school experience is any indication, make fun of the size of your penis."--p. 212
posted by LadyVader @ 7:16 AM
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