Getting Fuzzy
I invite you to feel the cold wrath that is my spork. Thank you.
Wednesday, July 30, 2003
Thursday, July 24, 2003
Monday, July 21, 2003
I Have Tried the Ice Cream of the Future
... and it was OK.
I recently signed up to sing the National Anthem at a Carolina Courage soccer game with some people from the choir I belong to off and on. The hubby and I decided that we would spring for the (free) tickets and stay around for the game.
Initially, we thought that getting something to eat would be a challenge. After all, we have stopped eating dairy products so pizza was out, and forget about hot dogs just from a basic self-preservation standpoint. Luckily, one of their sponsors is Nuri-Mond Deli, so we were able to get grilled vegetable wraps and hummus with pita bread. But then, we looked around for something bad. Sporting events are made for dietary sinning. When I saw a big sign for Dippin' Dots, the Ice Cream of the Future, the deal was sealed. I mean, how can you not want to try the ice cream of the freakin' future?
So, we shelled out $3 for a cup. When he started scooping it in, I thought - oh crap, that looks like gravel. Or Nerds, that teeth-breaky candy from the Wonka people. We looked at each other and psychically sent the message, "Oh well, it's only money." But it wasn't bad, really. I think I would describe it as cold, soft, creamy gravel. It's a little plasticy, and of course it's dairy so you won't find me eating it again anytime soon. But damn it, I have tried the ice cream of the future and that is what's important.
... and it was OK.
I recently signed up to sing the National Anthem at a Carolina Courage soccer game with some people from the choir I belong to off and on. The hubby and I decided that we would spring for the (free) tickets and stay around for the game.
Initially, we thought that getting something to eat would be a challenge. After all, we have stopped eating dairy products so pizza was out, and forget about hot dogs just from a basic self-preservation standpoint. Luckily, one of their sponsors is Nuri-Mond Deli, so we were able to get grilled vegetable wraps and hummus with pita bread. But then, we looked around for something bad. Sporting events are made for dietary sinning. When I saw a big sign for Dippin' Dots, the Ice Cream of the Future, the deal was sealed. I mean, how can you not want to try the ice cream of the freakin' future?
So, we shelled out $3 for a cup. When he started scooping it in, I thought - oh crap, that looks like gravel. Or Nerds, that teeth-breaky candy from the Wonka people. We looked at each other and psychically sent the message, "Oh well, it's only money." But it wasn't bad, really. I think I would describe it as cold, soft, creamy gravel. It's a little plasticy, and of course it's dairy so you won't find me eating it again anytime soon. But damn it, I have tried the ice cream of the future and that is what's important.
Wednesday, July 16, 2003
Community Property
I just went into the kitchen in my office building to try and microwave my lunch. Someone had already stuck their food in there, though, so I figured I would have to wait until 1) it was done and 2) they came back to actually remove it. I checked the timer, and it said... 7:48???? What? That means that they probably put their food in there for at least eight minutes, if not more. I checked inside - looked like your standard frozen dinner fare to me. Didn't look like, say a frozen steak or other sort of non-instant food that need to be actually *cooked* not just warmed up. I took a trip to the restroom and returned when the timer was at about 5 minutes, and the dinner was actually making little popping noises in there. I'm thinking that when the nuker returns, this plastic food is going to be melted like the plastic container in which it is presented. Mmmm, radioactive.
I just went into the kitchen in my office building to try and microwave my lunch. Someone had already stuck their food in there, though, so I figured I would have to wait until 1) it was done and 2) they came back to actually remove it. I checked the timer, and it said... 7:48???? What? That means that they probably put their food in there for at least eight minutes, if not more. I checked inside - looked like your standard frozen dinner fare to me. Didn't look like, say a frozen steak or other sort of non-instant food that need to be actually *cooked* not just warmed up. I took a trip to the restroom and returned when the timer was at about 5 minutes, and the dinner was actually making little popping noises in there. I'm thinking that when the nuker returns, this plastic food is going to be melted like the plastic container in which it is presented. Mmmm, radioactive.
Sunday, July 13, 2003
Duck, duck, ... ew
As with most office buildings, there is a culture of people who smoke that congregate outside. I'm not going to go into how much I dislike running the gauntlet of toxic fumes to get to work. If you cross through the parking lot and go down a hill, there is also a pond that serves as eye candy for the backyards of houses that are nearby. In the summer, the pond gets all sorts of water fowl, ducks and geese and stuff. A few of the ducks were always seen wandering around the parking lot - I don't know if the pond was not good enough for them or what. Maybe it was their exercise regimen. At any rate, the smokers decided that they would feed these ducks while they were giving themselves lung cancer. Now, not only do the ducks permanently reside right next to the building, but they laid their eggs there. There is all manner of duck feces all over the sidewalk, and we see the maintenance guy out there every morning trying to clean it all up so nobody slips and falls. Now there's some real thinking ahead, smokers. If you think about it, picking up smoking and feeding ducks up by the building can be related to missing the thinking ahead genetic material. A very simple cause and effect logic is clearly missing.
As with most office buildings, there is a culture of people who smoke that congregate outside. I'm not going to go into how much I dislike running the gauntlet of toxic fumes to get to work. If you cross through the parking lot and go down a hill, there is also a pond that serves as eye candy for the backyards of houses that are nearby. In the summer, the pond gets all sorts of water fowl, ducks and geese and stuff. A few of the ducks were always seen wandering around the parking lot - I don't know if the pond was not good enough for them or what. Maybe it was their exercise regimen. At any rate, the smokers decided that they would feed these ducks while they were giving themselves lung cancer. Now, not only do the ducks permanently reside right next to the building, but they laid their eggs there. There is all manner of duck feces all over the sidewalk, and we see the maintenance guy out there every morning trying to clean it all up so nobody slips and falls. Now there's some real thinking ahead, smokers. If you think about it, picking up smoking and feeding ducks up by the building can be related to missing the thinking ahead genetic material. A very simple cause and effect logic is clearly missing.
Tuesday, July 08, 2003
Fear the boob
I realized this morning that it has been a little over a year since Ifound out I had cancer. The great part about that is I forgot about it until it was a year and month - not like I had to sit here and count the days or anything. I like the fact that I have to go see the oncologist but I don't need to go see the oncologist. It so beats the alternative. In other news, my mom told me she is back to getting the mammogram once a year now, like "normal" people. Go mom! Thanks for the tough genetic material!
I realized this morning that it has been a little over a year since I
Thursday, July 03, 2003
Neurosa
A friend of ours has recently discovered that her apartment building has an infestation of mice.
We're talking here about people walking in to their apartments and finding 20-25 mice that scatter when the door opens. Residents hear the mice scrambling around in the walls when they are trying to sleep. This was evidently caused by the destruction of a pond and forest in order to build more apartments.
As alarming as that would be to anyone who has to live in the building, our friend has taken this extremely hard. She has been in the building for about ten years, and developed something of a sentimental attachment to the building. It is where she lived with her (now deceased) cat, it is where she has set down her roots, she used to feel more at home there than anywhere else she has ever lived. More than just that, though, the invasion of mice has triggered some sort of rebirth of her entire personality. The neurotic genes that she inherited have been catalyzed, and a superheroine is born. Neurosa, champion over germs, Brillo pad in one hand, Clorox Wipe in the other, she will find and destroy any trace of anything human in the apartment. Everything in the closets and the kitchen will be disinfected or discarded; she will have no mercy. The apartment will smell like a hospital, and no food will be prepared. If the mice win (and the mice will NOT win, Neurosa will not allow that to happen), a suitcase and a car is all that will remain of this former life, this secret identity if you will. Neurosa takes no prisoners and is not sentimental over a bedroom suite (that might have been touched by a mouse with germs). Nor is Neurosa sentimental about the cat's earthly remains - ashes that were to be scattered off the balcony of the apartment when Neurosa moved out now have an undetermined fate. For Neurosa is the conqueror of anything unclean, especially mice, and Neurosa will be damned if her beloved cat's ashes will be devoured by mice.
A friend of ours has recently discovered that her apartment building has an infestation of mice.
We're talking here about people walking in to their apartments and finding 20-25 mice that scatter when the door opens. Residents hear the mice scrambling around in the walls when they are trying to sleep. This was evidently caused by the destruction of a pond and forest in order to build more apartments.
As alarming as that would be to anyone who has to live in the building, our friend has taken this extremely hard. She has been in the building for about ten years, and developed something of a sentimental attachment to the building. It is where she lived with her (now deceased) cat, it is where she has set down her roots, she used to feel more at home there than anywhere else she has ever lived. More than just that, though, the invasion of mice has triggered some sort of rebirth of her entire personality. The neurotic genes that she inherited have been catalyzed, and a superheroine is born. Neurosa, champion over germs, Brillo pad in one hand, Clorox Wipe in the other, she will find and destroy any trace of anything human in the apartment. Everything in the closets and the kitchen will be disinfected or discarded; she will have no mercy. The apartment will smell like a hospital, and no food will be prepared. If the mice win (and the mice will NOT win, Neurosa will not allow that to happen), a suitcase and a car is all that will remain of this former life, this secret identity if you will. Neurosa takes no prisoners and is not sentimental over a bedroom suite (that might have been touched by a mouse with germs). Nor is Neurosa sentimental about the cat's earthly remains - ashes that were to be scattered off the balcony of the apartment when Neurosa moved out now have an undetermined fate. For Neurosa is the conqueror of anything unclean, especially mice, and Neurosa will be damned if her beloved cat's ashes will be devoured by mice.
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