Things I've said this week that prove that I am currently incredibly old:
(On seeing a commercial for Saints Row II [a colossally violent video game])
"Why are they making the kids think that's cool? They ought to be ashamed of themselves!"
(On the decision to see a midnight movie)
"I don't know. Usually I would have been in bed for like an hour and a half by then."
(On seeing a girl in a stupidly short skirt)
"I mean, are they trying to get pregnant? Is this like an ode to that Jamie Lynn whatever?"
(On finding out at that a hot guy was actually 21 years old)
"Good God. Has he gotten chest hair yet?"
(Inside an Anchor Blue)
"I can't shop here. The clothes are made for children- and those trollops from The Hills"
Age- 5
Me- 0
Saturday, October 18, 2008
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Plum Dumplings
A couple of days ago, I came into the kithen to find that it had been simply overtaken by some strange items. The counters were covered with boxes and boxes of bread crumbs and powdered sugar. And there were two large baskets of fresh plums. I looked around, completely confused by what I was looking at. So I asked C. "What are you making?" Alot of times, she would get these incredible culinary inspirations (Fruit pizzas, Irish Creme chocolate chip cookies, pumpkin tiramisu) and let them come into fruition in my father's kitchen.
"It's just some plum dumplings" she said. I of course thought Plum dumplings, wow- that sounds incredible! But I didn't say anything. Usually, her creations are not there for me or my dad to sample, they are for her and her household only. (which I think is a little unfair, isn't it? I mean, it's our resources, our oven- we have to smell it, right?) Anyway,for the next few days, the house smelled AWESOME. It was this interesting combination of baked goods and awesome fried food.
Then, she left them laying around the kitchen. Like plates of these things- and they looked fantastic. So for days all I wanted was one of these dumplings.
So today after I ate my dinner (meatless tacos with tofu sour cream and soy cheese, if you're wondering)I swallowed my pride and asked for one. She was surprisingly agreeable. I was stoked. I took one- I heated it up, sprinkled it with powdered sugar like she suggested. I bit into it- and it was bad. No it was really bad!It was doughy and salty, sort of. The plum was mealy- it was just really bad. And I really wished I'd never had one. I literally wished I could go back in time to before I ate that dumpling- because the anticipation of the dumpling was absolutely so much better than the dumpling.
And I realized that virtually everything in life is a plum dumpling. The anticipation of everrything, the dream of what it is going to be is almost always better. Life is a plum dumpling. There ya go.
"It's just some plum dumplings" she said. I of course thought Plum dumplings, wow- that sounds incredible! But I didn't say anything. Usually, her creations are not there for me or my dad to sample, they are for her and her household only. (which I think is a little unfair, isn't it? I mean, it's our resources, our oven- we have to smell it, right?) Anyway,for the next few days, the house smelled AWESOME. It was this interesting combination of baked goods and awesome fried food.
Then, she left them laying around the kitchen. Like plates of these things- and they looked fantastic. So for days all I wanted was one of these dumplings.
So today after I ate my dinner (meatless tacos with tofu sour cream and soy cheese, if you're wondering)I swallowed my pride and asked for one. She was surprisingly agreeable. I was stoked. I took one- I heated it up, sprinkled it with powdered sugar like she suggested. I bit into it- and it was bad. No it was really bad!It was doughy and salty, sort of. The plum was mealy- it was just really bad. And I really wished I'd never had one. I literally wished I could go back in time to before I ate that dumpling- because the anticipation of the dumpling was absolutely so much better than the dumpling.
And I realized that virtually everything in life is a plum dumpling. The anticipation of everrything, the dream of what it is going to be is almost always better. Life is a plum dumpling. There ya go.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Some stuff from California
So, I didn't update much in California. I couldn't, really. My computer (the one that I was stealing internet on)inexplicably freaked out the day I got to Santa Maria and, shocker, inexplicably fixed itself a week after I returned. But I did experience ALOT while I was out there and I figured now would be a great time to do a clip show kind of blog about California. I'm gonna call it "California: There We Were" mostly because I'm hilarious, but also because I'm still obsessed with the OC.
The Dude.
So as I may have mentioned, I lived in a house all summer that also housed about nine other people. It was alot like a youth hostel- only when you woke up you didn't get to explore Amsterdam or some other amazing country that made it okay that you basically just slept on top of the unwashed masses of the world; you woke up to Santa Maria. The great thing about the roommates was that they all had such extreme personalities that you didn't have to mention them by name- only personality or defining charateristic: "The Crazy Lesbian.", "The Hot Chilean", "The Tiny Painter", "The Alcoholic Redhead"- But the most recognizable one? "The Dude."
I don't like to mention names because it gets me into trouble- but in this case, it's completely irrelevant because anyone who knows that house will know instantly who I am talking about. The Dude, first of all, is 20 years old, which explains everything. I can literally excuse any stupid behavior by saying "he's 20." And people go "Oh. Ok." He is also incredibly offensive. Like- it's his "thing". He says racist things- incredibly racist things and waits for your reaction. I think he thinks its hilarious. Like he's Dane Cook or something. I see this behavior in alot of really young guys- they say horrible things simply for the reactions. And the worst part? People laugh- that's why they do it. It's awful. Hey, if you know a guy like that- don't laugh at him. But the most offensive part about The Dude, and probably the most bizzare was the ladies. I mean the endless parade of the ladies. I'll just say it. Dude got laid ALOT.
First of all- much like The Real World, The Dude had to have a relationship with someone in the house. The most offensive straight guy always hooks up with a member of the house, it's just good ratings. So Dude and Tiny Painter became "The Couple". But Dude was not happy with just the one. So at least once a week, well after Tiny Painter went to sleep, Dude brought someone home. Someone who worked with us. Someone who Tiny Painter could have EASILY found out about- not just at work, like if she WOKE UP while it was happening and went to get a glass of water. This happened so many times during the course of the summer that I stopped being disgusted by it and kind of started to be a little impressed!He wasn't afraid I would tell. I caught him like a million times and he never once even attempted to say "its not waht it looks like" or tell me to keep my mouth shut. He wasn't afraid Tiny Painter would wake up. She lived two doors down from him- literally one room between his bedroom and hers and he wasn't afraid she'd catch him. He wasn't afraid one of the conquests would talk. (They didn't, but still-) I mean, who has balls that size? Answer: The Dude. And why? He's 20.
Myself. In Sixty Years
I walked everywhere in Santa Maria because the weather was amazing. (Then again, I live in Arizona so- the weather is amazing anywhere). Everyday, when I walked to the theater, I'd walk past this house painted an odd color of pastel green, that was owned by this brassy old broad. She wore alot of velour, was always smoking and cursed like it was a second language. Often, I'd walk past her house and she'd start talking to me, but she wouldn't initiate a conversation, she'd talk like we'd been talking for hours. I'd walk by and she'd say something like "The fucking dogs, right? Why the goddamn hell can't they just fucking tie them up? Cocksuckers. That's what I said to Fred I told him and he said the same thing. Barking like goddamn Hades." And I'd be thinking Who's Fred? What dogs- I don't see even one dog. But I didn't ask. I never asked. I was afraid she'd stop talking- because I have to say: I loved it when she talked to me. It wasn't like other old ladies who smile too much with lipstick on their teeth and tell really boring stories way too slow and who you're afraid might die while your standing there. Whatever this broad said was rivetting. Once, while I was on my way to the grocery store she said "Do think his wife knows? Bet your ass she knows and she don't care. Bitch needs to pay the rent. I'd keep my fucking mouth shut too." I mean- Who? Was it a neighbor? A family member- was it someone on tv? Was it a person in her mind? DOES IT MATTER? It's amazing! The best part was she didn't want to sit and have a long conversation. After she said her peice, usually around thirty or fourty seconds of glorious random, she'd just turn around and walk the other way. Usually, she'd do that hand flippy thing like "You're useless to me now. Go away." I found myself walking past her house even if it was twenty minutes in the wrong direction just hoping she'd be outside.I hope she has a family- like a few kids and grandkids, and I hope they realize how ridiculously cool she is.
Sir
The best thing about California is that it's a pretty liberal state. Most of the people there not only vote Democrat but think people who do otherwise are a little crazy. Which- I guess kind of sucks for Republicans because it's kind of like being a Democrat here. So they're pretty defensive. I get it- I mean, they think we're crazy too, only there's alot more of us so they constantly have to defend themselves. But something I noticed about Republicans- well- Conservatives while I was out there: They think that saying "sir" is really condecending. They always say it. "You didn't answer the question, sir" Or "That's not what the bible says, sir." And I don't get it. I mean, it's not condecending, it's nice. It's not like with women who take ma'am as an insult. You know if you're in Neiman Marcus and you ask some snooty sales girl to take something out of the case to show you and she says "I'll be right with you, ma'am" And you know what she meant was "You know you can't afford this, bitch." Well, men don't do it that way. Infact, men think "sir" is a term of respect. It's like 'Did you catch that? He called me sir. I'm a man now.' You know who I call 'sir'? Really old men and people I'm trying to get a job from. Oh and also Sir Ian McKellan- because he was knighted. So why do they say "sir" to be condecending? I think it should be something actually condecending. Like sweetie. Fact: If I'm explaining something to you and I call you 'sweetie', I'm being condecending. For men it's something like "pal". Pal is never good. you don't say "pal after you just said something nice or respectful Its always like "Out of my way, pal" I completely think that is what conservatives should say in a political argument. "That's not what the bible says, pal." Snap. You might as well have just slapped him across the face.
So Hot That I'm Stupid
I mentioned the Hot Chilean, right? I always say this: Hot guys make me stupid. It's true, it's really true. If I ever marry a really hot guy, I'll drop at least ten IQ points a week. By our tenth anniversary, he'll be reteaching me the alphabet. I was fortunate enough to share a house with one such hot guy. The Chilean. At first, I thought it was all in my head. That I was overthinking the situation and I actually wasn't being as stupid as it seemed like I was in my mind. Then after a "conversation" with the Chilean that went something like this:
Hot Chilean- Did you have a good show today?
Me- I think like, the audience was like- you know when they're like all, you know and you're like "shit man!"
Hot Chilean- Um, yeah.
Me- *gesticulating wildly* I mean, you know- i think it really depends on the audience. So like- if they're not like awesome- I mean, do you know what I mean?
Hot Chilean- So was the show good or not?
Me- I guess it was like, whatever.
I realized that sadly, it was not. So what changed in California? I realized how to fix the situation: Honesty. Sounds bizzare, but I tried it and damn it if I didn't have the best results. Sdhortly after that disasterous conversation, my show friends and I headed to a bar after a show. While waiting in line to get a drink, a strangely hot man started talking to me. *Note* I really think it was sheer proximity that launched the conversation and not his interest in me. So he says something like "Jesus, this place gets packed on Saturdays, doesn't it?" and I immediately go completely Rain Man.
"Definitely, packed. Definitely" And it hits me. I'm never going to see this man again. So after he made another ambiguous observation about either the bar or Santa Maria, I decided to just let him know that we couldn't have a conversation. "You know, " I said, matter of factly 'It's really hard to talk to you because you're abnormally hot."
After the shock wore off he said "Wait, what?"
"You're so hot that I'm stupid right now." I said.
"Who says that?' he asked. And started laughing. "Nobody's ever said that to me! What's your name?" And bam- there you go. Now I'm hilarious and bold and honest. I din't get this guy's number or anything like that- but I went from being practically retarded to someone this hot guy will probably remember for a long time. All I'm saying is- bring it on, hot guys. I aint scared.
And there ya go.
The Dude.
So as I may have mentioned, I lived in a house all summer that also housed about nine other people. It was alot like a youth hostel- only when you woke up you didn't get to explore Amsterdam or some other amazing country that made it okay that you basically just slept on top of the unwashed masses of the world; you woke up to Santa Maria. The great thing about the roommates was that they all had such extreme personalities that you didn't have to mention them by name- only personality or defining charateristic: "The Crazy Lesbian.", "The Hot Chilean", "The Tiny Painter", "The Alcoholic Redhead"- But the most recognizable one? "The Dude."
I don't like to mention names because it gets me into trouble- but in this case, it's completely irrelevant because anyone who knows that house will know instantly who I am talking about. The Dude, first of all, is 20 years old, which explains everything. I can literally excuse any stupid behavior by saying "he's 20." And people go "Oh. Ok." He is also incredibly offensive. Like- it's his "thing". He says racist things- incredibly racist things and waits for your reaction. I think he thinks its hilarious. Like he's Dane Cook or something. I see this behavior in alot of really young guys- they say horrible things simply for the reactions. And the worst part? People laugh- that's why they do it. It's awful. Hey, if you know a guy like that- don't laugh at him. But the most offensive part about The Dude, and probably the most bizzare was the ladies. I mean the endless parade of the ladies. I'll just say it. Dude got laid ALOT.
First of all- much like The Real World, The Dude had to have a relationship with someone in the house. The most offensive straight guy always hooks up with a member of the house, it's just good ratings. So Dude and Tiny Painter became "The Couple". But Dude was not happy with just the one. So at least once a week, well after Tiny Painter went to sleep, Dude brought someone home. Someone who worked with us. Someone who Tiny Painter could have EASILY found out about- not just at work, like if she WOKE UP while it was happening and went to get a glass of water. This happened so many times during the course of the summer that I stopped being disgusted by it and kind of started to be a little impressed!He wasn't afraid I would tell. I caught him like a million times and he never once even attempted to say "its not waht it looks like" or tell me to keep my mouth shut. He wasn't afraid Tiny Painter would wake up. She lived two doors down from him- literally one room between his bedroom and hers and he wasn't afraid she'd catch him. He wasn't afraid one of the conquests would talk. (They didn't, but still-) I mean, who has balls that size? Answer: The Dude. And why? He's 20.
Myself. In Sixty Years
I walked everywhere in Santa Maria because the weather was amazing. (Then again, I live in Arizona so- the weather is amazing anywhere). Everyday, when I walked to the theater, I'd walk past this house painted an odd color of pastel green, that was owned by this brassy old broad. She wore alot of velour, was always smoking and cursed like it was a second language. Often, I'd walk past her house and she'd start talking to me, but she wouldn't initiate a conversation, she'd talk like we'd been talking for hours. I'd walk by and she'd say something like "The fucking dogs, right? Why the goddamn hell can't they just fucking tie them up? Cocksuckers. That's what I said to Fred I told him and he said the same thing. Barking like goddamn Hades." And I'd be thinking Who's Fred? What dogs- I don't see even one dog. But I didn't ask. I never asked. I was afraid she'd stop talking- because I have to say: I loved it when she talked to me. It wasn't like other old ladies who smile too much with lipstick on their teeth and tell really boring stories way too slow and who you're afraid might die while your standing there. Whatever this broad said was rivetting. Once, while I was on my way to the grocery store she said "Do think his wife knows? Bet your ass she knows and she don't care. Bitch needs to pay the rent. I'd keep my fucking mouth shut too." I mean- Who? Was it a neighbor? A family member- was it someone on tv? Was it a person in her mind? DOES IT MATTER? It's amazing! The best part was she didn't want to sit and have a long conversation. After she said her peice, usually around thirty or fourty seconds of glorious random, she'd just turn around and walk the other way. Usually, she'd do that hand flippy thing like "You're useless to me now. Go away." I found myself walking past her house even if it was twenty minutes in the wrong direction just hoping she'd be outside.I hope she has a family- like a few kids and grandkids, and I hope they realize how ridiculously cool she is.
Sir
The best thing about California is that it's a pretty liberal state. Most of the people there not only vote Democrat but think people who do otherwise are a little crazy. Which- I guess kind of sucks for Republicans because it's kind of like being a Democrat here. So they're pretty defensive. I get it- I mean, they think we're crazy too, only there's alot more of us so they constantly have to defend themselves. But something I noticed about Republicans- well- Conservatives while I was out there: They think that saying "sir" is really condecending. They always say it. "You didn't answer the question, sir" Or "That's not what the bible says, sir." And I don't get it. I mean, it's not condecending, it's nice. It's not like with women who take ma'am as an insult. You know if you're in Neiman Marcus and you ask some snooty sales girl to take something out of the case to show you and she says "I'll be right with you, ma'am" And you know what she meant was "You know you can't afford this, bitch." Well, men don't do it that way. Infact, men think "sir" is a term of respect. It's like 'Did you catch that? He called me sir. I'm a man now.' You know who I call 'sir'? Really old men and people I'm trying to get a job from. Oh and also Sir Ian McKellan- because he was knighted. So why do they say "sir" to be condecending? I think it should be something actually condecending. Like sweetie. Fact: If I'm explaining something to you and I call you 'sweetie', I'm being condecending. For men it's something like "pal". Pal is never good. you don't say "pal after you just said something nice or respectful Its always like "Out of my way, pal" I completely think that is what conservatives should say in a political argument. "That's not what the bible says, pal." Snap. You might as well have just slapped him across the face.
So Hot That I'm Stupid
I mentioned the Hot Chilean, right? I always say this: Hot guys make me stupid. It's true, it's really true. If I ever marry a really hot guy, I'll drop at least ten IQ points a week. By our tenth anniversary, he'll be reteaching me the alphabet. I was fortunate enough to share a house with one such hot guy. The Chilean. At first, I thought it was all in my head. That I was overthinking the situation and I actually wasn't being as stupid as it seemed like I was in my mind. Then after a "conversation" with the Chilean that went something like this:
Hot Chilean- Did you have a good show today?
Me- I think like, the audience was like- you know when they're like all, you know and you're like "shit man!"
Hot Chilean- Um, yeah.
Me- *gesticulating wildly* I mean, you know- i think it really depends on the audience. So like- if they're not like awesome- I mean, do you know what I mean?
Hot Chilean- So was the show good or not?
Me- I guess it was like, whatever.
I realized that sadly, it was not. So what changed in California? I realized how to fix the situation: Honesty. Sounds bizzare, but I tried it and damn it if I didn't have the best results. Sdhortly after that disasterous conversation, my show friends and I headed to a bar after a show. While waiting in line to get a drink, a strangely hot man started talking to me. *Note* I really think it was sheer proximity that launched the conversation and not his interest in me. So he says something like "Jesus, this place gets packed on Saturdays, doesn't it?" and I immediately go completely Rain Man.
"Definitely, packed. Definitely" And it hits me. I'm never going to see this man again. So after he made another ambiguous observation about either the bar or Santa Maria, I decided to just let him know that we couldn't have a conversation. "You know, " I said, matter of factly 'It's really hard to talk to you because you're abnormally hot."
After the shock wore off he said "Wait, what?"
"You're so hot that I'm stupid right now." I said.
"Who says that?' he asked. And started laughing. "Nobody's ever said that to me! What's your name?" And bam- there you go. Now I'm hilarious and bold and honest. I din't get this guy's number or anything like that- but I went from being practically retarded to someone this hot guy will probably remember for a long time. All I'm saying is- bring it on, hot guys. I aint scared.
And there ya go.
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