A sombrero at the opera
As I picked at the scab on my arm I realized that I had never injured myself in the first place. In researching this topic, I came across a great website,
What's a Scab? The website explains what's happening when a scab forms, but the only possibilities they discuss for the formation are scrapes and cuts. The website doesn't say anything about spontaneous scab formation. I've sent them an email and some pictures so they can update their valuable resource. In the event they're not prepared to handle such a development, I've also sent the pictures and story to a Catholic priest friend of mine in an email entitled, "The Immaculate Secretion." He'll know what to do.
I stalked my best friend today. It's a shame that I haven't talked to her in 6 months, but her birthday is coming up in 2 weeks so I need to put a card in the mail. As my best friend, she invited me to her apartment once so I knew where to send the card, I just didn't have the physical address. It's convenient for me that I have nothing to do all day, and also a good thing that security at most apartment complexes sucks. I just fumble around at the keypad like it's not working until the guy behind me uses his remote and bingo, problem solved.
And now, the title story: Yes, a woman wore a sombrero to the opera.
Sunday was the theater district open house.
(aside: For those of you unaware, Houston has the largest metropolitan theater district outside of New York and the Houston Grand Opera company is, no shit, world-class.) Since I'm more interested in opera than plays, ballet, or the symphony, I started out at the operahouse. I've never been to the open house before, but they give tours, meet some of the cast members, and sell half-price tickets to one or more of the shows. Susan Graham is coming to perform the female lead in Idomeneo, so I was praying that would be one of the half-price shows, but they were only discounting Madame Butterfly. In any case, I'm taking the backstage tour when I feel something along the lines of road rash brushing against my neck. I whip around to find myself nose to brim with a 3' (1m) diameter sombrero with a rather largish woman of hispanic descent stuck to the bottom of it. My puzzlement is threefold: 1) Who actually wears a sombrero outside of the showcase of Latino Heritage at Epcot? 2) Is it possible for someone with the poor taste to wear a sombrero to actually enjoy opera? 3) Why are my seats virtually guaranteed to be behind sombrero-gal?
Pictures instead
I've trashed all the blogs I wrote last week without publishing. They were hack, and I don't have much else in store at the moment, so I'll post a few pictures and hope that you don't hate me.
My nightstand. I happen to believe you can tell a lot about a person by what's on his or her nightstand. I'll let you pick over the details and figure out what kind of twit I am.
My business card. Having an email address has helped me expand my business tenfold. I love technology!
My dining room & wetbar, plus you can see my pathetic little pantry across the kitchen. I caught Buzz hitting the sake late one night, so I've moved them to separate shelves for now. One more incident and I'll have to put him back in the box.
Not funny today
No, I'm in the mood to be a little expressive and serious tonight. If you came here looking for fart jokes or a good bird-crapped-on-my-head story you can stop now. I had an enormous burst of creative energy earlier in the week and wrote out a half dozen blog entries and saved them as drafts, but I'm just not feeling funny at the moment. If I went to the drafts right now and tried to get one ready for publishing, I'd just wind up editing the life out of it
(aside: That's how I work- Write, rewrite, repeat. Sorry, I'm no Amadeus.) and it wouldn't work. It would be trying too hard. Hell, even if I
was in the mood it might not be funny, and that would be so off-putting.
I watched "Under the Tuscan Sun" this evening, and for some reason I don't mind telling you that I cried like a chick through much of it. I'm a little embarassed to admit that part of the tears were just me feeling sorry for myself. This BEAUTIFUL woman has had her life ripped to shreds, but has these great, supportive friends. She screws up her courage and chucks it all to live this fantasy new life, and she's so alone you wouldn't blame her for jumping off a cliff. She finds momentary happiness here & there, but nothing seems to stick. The gorgeous white dress. That unbelieveable field of red flowers...I had to pause the movie.
I shed hot salty tears when she realizes she got everything she wished for. I won't ruin the ending if you haven't seen it...
I've had a moment of enlightenment kind of like hers. Several years ago, completely out of the blue and totally unrelated to anything I was thinking or doing at the time. Nearly drove my car off the road when it hit me. The details are unimportant, except to say that I've been trying to live up to it ever since.
MusicChoice [Party Favorites, Ch 797] has been been playing "Got to Give it Up (Part 1)" by Marvin Gaye all weekend and it's on again now, so I think I'll get up to groove and spin around the room a bit.
AFV
I've just watched America's Funniest Home Videos which, now that I see it in print makes me feel really filthy, in a filthy kind of way. That show is so FAKE! There's a video of a guy who gets bit on the pecker by a turtle, and we're supposed to believe that it was
spontaneously captured on film? Anyone who's been bitten on the pecker by a turtle knows that you have to taunt them with it, tease them with it, and basically slap them in the face with it for HOURS before they'll bite you. Even if you've got a particularly testy one (no pun intended) they'll growl and bark before they bite. Now if it was a rhino, those sumbitches are mean. They'd just as soon bite your pecker
then ass-fuck you with the horn as look at you. Gators are pretty mean too. I once asked Steve Irwin how many times he's been bitten on the pecker. "Crikey! Not as many times as you might think, mate." I always imagined the Croc Hunter has some sort of cool James Bond/Jungle Survival wristwatch? Nope, it's a Swatch.
Gotta run, the final Kilborn is on...
Housekeeping
Ok, time to clear up a few loose ends...
1) Yes, I'm an idiot. I blogged using the phrase "As you can see, I've changed..." which is about 9.5 on the dumbass scale, since you couldn't see unless you'd been here from Day 1, which you weren't.
(aside: I know where you were. Let's not fight about it again.) The original title of my blog was "The View from my skull," which I had hoped would conjure images appropriate to my belief that my body is just the means for getting my brain from one place to another. It didn't, and it sucked.
2) What's up Singapore? There are an awful lot of you fuckers blogging! According to the 2004 CIA Factbook there are about 4.3 million Singaporeans, but this afternoon I read about 4.4 million blogs from Singapore. So either some of you have blogged twice or the CIA is wrong.
(aside: Mentioning "The Company" twice in a blog ought to get me my own file, no?)
3) Woke up today with the same headache I had yesterday. 800mg ibuprofen
(aside: brand-name withheld until endorsement check arrives) and 440mg naproxen-sodium
(aside: ditto) later it's still there, just not hurting to the point that I want to do bad things and blame it on the headache. It was preceded yesterday by some funky visuals that I
thought were attributed to reading too many Singaporean blogs.
4) I've got an awesome idea for a new blog, just in case I have to ditch this one and head down to Old Mexico
(see #2 above). I'll try to let you know before I cross the river...
5) Several of you have asked how on earth I could burn ramen. Let me explain: I'm a cooking savant. Seriously world-class, Iron-Chef-can-toss-my-salad
(pun-intended), recipes-are-for-pussies, excellent cook. I can eat a dish in a restaurant, then go home and recreate it from scratch. Unfortunately I don't cook like that all the time. See, I live alone and I can't CLEAN worth a damn, so if I cook some fancy "Emeril-should-give-up-cooking-and-go-wax-my-car, bitch" meal I have to clean up after myself. So I was making a simple braised chicken wings with ramen in a teriyaki/mirin-reduction that got a little over-reduced because I was elbow-deep in hot, buttery, salty edamame heaven and I wasn't watching it. The result: It smelled like ass and tasted like burnt ass. Lesson learned.
6) Thanks to all for the kind words. Even if you hate my stuff, I love knowing someone read it. Infinitely more satisfying than prancing around the condo nude with the blinds open.
Had class #2 tonight- Statistics for Business. There is a new professor teaching this course this semester and rumor has it it's because there were too many complaints about the last one. This guy is so old I think he died 10 years ago. He was completely unprepared to lecture and kept losing his train of thought. When most people lose their train of thought they go off on a tangent, talking about something totally different, right? Not this guy. He just shut down. Eyes open, mouth agape
(aside: excellent word, agape). Maybe the pacemaker was still set on "Manilow" and he just needs a tuneup. At the break, one girl mentioned it was like watching paint dry. No no, dear. With paint you get the fumes, a little contact buzz. This was definitely NOT like watching paint dry. On the bright side, there appears to only be one required text, so when I get to make a second trip to the bookstore to get my Finance text I can return the second statistics text. True, not much of a bright side, but if you've read any of my other posts... No cute girls in this class either. It's going to be a long semester.
First day of class blues
First day of class this evening. Yes, the first day of class was a Wednesday. That's because I'm in grad school
(aside: I'm smart, remember? Try to keep up.) and it's only one day a week (per class). Managerial Finance, and it's going to suck. The professor is cool, I guess, but she strikes me as a smarty-pants, know-it-all kind of professor and you can bet she'll lecture the full 3 hours.
Stopped by the bookstore on the way to class, but they didn't have all the texts. I did pick up the 2 required books for tomorrow night's statistics class. 2 books, $230. And that doesn't include the text for tonight's class, when it finally comes in. Add to that the tuition: 2 classes, $2600. This sucks.
(aside: I know, I promised to use 'off-putting' more, but put yourself in my shoes for a second.) Someone remind me why I'm doing it. I was thinking that maybe I should get a job to pay for all this, but then I'd just bitch about where all my paychecks are going.
To top it all off- No cute girls in class. Not one. Not even if I squint my eyes real hard and pull a nose hair so that my eyes water. The 3 grand per semester wouldn't be so bad if I could get my perv on for a couple hours each week. (sigh)
3 strikes in one day. End of blog.
Hall of Fame Hall of Fame
Well after a really dry week I think I've come upon another great idea: The Hall of Fame Hall of Fame. Google "Hall of Fame". The first page and a half are pretty decent Halls of Fame, like baseball, basketball, football. After that they get pretty weak. The Ecology Hall of Fame? The Cooperative Hall of Fame? Do both Georgia and Alabama need separate Music Halls of Fame? It's not like one state is on the west coast and the other is on the east cost. They're right next to each other!
Somebody has to put a stop to this rampant Hall of Fameyiness
(Halling of Fame?), so I'm establishing the Hall of Fame Hall of Fame, to recognize the truly great Halls of Fame. Separate the wheat from the chaff, if you will
(aside: Biblical reference, if I'm not mistaken). Eventually I'll get a website so you can stop in and see which are the decent Halls of Fame. Say you're planning a cross-country trip. You don't want to go out of your way to see the Quilter's Hall of Fame in Marion, Indiana without checking out ahead of time whether or not it's a poseur Hall of Fame. What could be more off-putting?
(aside: see earlier blog regarding 'off-putting')
My first inductee: The Baseball Hall of Fame, of course. Cooperstown. Can you name any other Hall of Fame that is known by the name of the town in which it's located? No, you can't. But I tell you what, those folks are sure doing it right and it's high time someone recognized them. I'm not going to get into the Pete Rose debate or any of that stuff. The Baseball Hall of Fame is one class act.
[Note: Sorry for all of the rhetorical questions. It just poured out of my head that way, you know?]
Friday the 13th
It's bad luck to blog on Friday the 13th, so I shall abstain.
The invisible man
Blogging is a lonely hobby. I've read many other blogs out there, and while few people come right out and say it, they're lonely too. I sat in
[restaurant name withheld until their endorsement check arrives- no free press!] yesterday eating my burrito by myself. It was lunchtime and the place was crowded. I don't work, so I was by myself, while just about everyone else was with someone, probably a coworker or two. Since it was crowded I couldn't get a table. I took one of the stools at the windows, along the periphery of the restaurant. (Aside: "Periphery" is a GREAT word. Look for it in more of my future posts!) It occurred to me that without someone else there, I was the tree falling in the woods. The invisible man. As luck would have it, the rack that usually contains the Houston Press was empty, so I couldn't even pretend to be engrossed in reading that while I ate. I had to just keep my head down and eat. And now, blogging blindly into the ether, without an intended reader or audience, I'll just keep my head down and type.
I had a burrito today
So much of my life happens inside my head. Take the word "burrito" in the title of this entry. When I say this word in my head, it sounds EXACTLY like Ozzy Osbourne saying burrito from the episode of the Osbornes where he eats like 30 burritos in 3 days.
As you can see, I've changed the title of my blog. I started reading Steve Martin's "Pure Drivel" earlier and this phrase jumped out at me from one of the essays, so I thought I'd appropriate it for my own use. Ironically, the essay was about writers taking phrases from other writers. If Steve were here I know he'd approve. Then we'd go get a burrito together.
Burned the ramen today
I read other blogs for about 2 hours this afternoon and came to two conclusions VERY quickly:
1) I must change the name of my blog,
2) I must avoid, at all cost, under penalty of death, using words like miscellany, random, and their ilk in my titles.
"Random" is probably the most over-used adjective in blog titles and does nothing to make me want to read it. I can only assume you feel the same way.
In other news:
I watched "Bend It Like Beckham" last night. Bloody good flick, that one. The lead male character "Joe" was Irish and naturally had a cool accent. Woke up this morning and decided that I would speak with an Irish accent all day. Girls love foreign accents. The phone only rung once and it was a wrong number, so the only person to hear the accent didn't know that I don't really have an accent. Nevertheless, the accent was dead-on inside my head for things like the discussion of what I would make for lunch or dinner. I missed Jeopardy and since I usually shout out the answers I think the accent would have held up for that too. Had I been on the real show, Alex and I would have had a good chuckle. I also noticed that I don't have a fake-accent when I sing along to the radio. Interesting.
miscellany
What? It's a real word, I promise. I watch Jeopardy a lot, so I must be smart. Come to think of it, if I had titled this "Potpourri" you'd know both of the previous two facts without me having to write it. I really must work on being more succinct. I'm also going to try to work "off-putting" into more conversations. It's so much nicer than "sucks".
Not many thoughts today, so I'll try to start a Monday tradition of posting a list of songs I'm listening to:
1. Zack Hexum - Met a Girl Like You Once
Saw this guy on Kilborn last week. He's going to be a star.
2. James Taylor - On The 4th of July
Singing harmony with Sweet Baby James is better than Lexapro.
3. Dixie Chicks - I Believe In Love
Country music to put you back in the mood for #2.
4. KC & The Sunshine Band - Boogie Shoes
When the manic kicks in and you gotta dance.
5. Michael Penn - Me Around
Heard this in the background of my favorite (cancelled) show, Mind of the Married Man.
A poem in Spanish
La Reina Que Baila.
Usted puede bailar, usted puede jive, teniendo la época de su vida /
Vea a esa muchacha, el reloj que la escena, empuje en la reina que baila.
La noche de viernes y las luces son el mirar bajo /
Hacia fuera para el lugar a ir /
Donde juegan la música derecha, consiguiendo en el oscilación /
Que usted entra buscar a un rey /
Cualquiera podría ser que la noche del individuo /
Es joven y la música alta /
Con un poco música de la roca, todo es /
Usted está muy bien en el humor para una danza /
Y cuando usted consigue el chance...
Usted es la reina que baila, joven y dulce, solamente diecisiete /
Bailando a reina, sienta el golpe del tambourine /
Usted puede bailar, usted puede jive, teniendo la época de su vida /
Vea a esa muchacha, el reloj que la escena, el empuje en la reina que baila.
Usted es un bromista, usted da vuelta al ' em en /
Déjelos que se queman y entonces le van /
Mirando hacia fuera para otros, cualquier persona hará /
Usted está en el humor para una danza /
Y cuando usted consigue el chance...
Usted es la reina que baila, joven y dulce, solamente diecisiete /
Bailando a reina, sienta el golpe del tambourine /
Usted puede bailar, usted puede jive, teniendo la época de su vida /
Vea a esa muchacha, el reloj que la escena, empuje en la reina que baila.
[With apologies to the author(s).]
Gettin' my perv on
So I flip on the tv last night...
(aside: What great story doesn't start that way?)
I've got an old tv downstairs that doesn't tell you right away what channel it's on, so I assume it's still on Home Shopping Network. You guys watch HSN, right? Fabulous merchandise, fantastic values, and entertaining celebrities. Once you watch you
have to put the phone number on speed-dial, because you only have so much time to get in on the action. So the picture comes up and I see a bunch of cute girls in swimwear. Nice. Where's the phone?
HSN: "Good Evening. My name's Beth, how can I help you?"
Me: "Hi Beth, it's me. I'd like a 'Miss Connecticut' and 2 'Miss Hawaii's please. Account number 77057."
HSN: "I beg your pardon?"
Me: (hits "channel recall" on TV remote - NBC)
"Umm, just a sec..."
HSN: "Sir?"
Me: (grabs TV Guide - 8pm: Miss Teen USA)
"Sorry, I'm watching the wrong channel. Call you back later."
HSN: "Ok, thank you and have a good night."
So I'm clearly gettin' my perv on when I call HSN and the girl is so cool with it. Polite, even. I'm going to marry a girl like that someday. This blog is dedicated to HSN Operator Beth...I think I love you.
[Note: The name and account number have been changed because that's what you do when you publish a story about someone else and an account number.]
