Practical English Usage

Cape of Good Hope

2009-07-29T21:02:00.000-07:00

First, press play.

You dig that caped jumpsuit?

I do. And I just may be getting my very own!

For real!

Details to follow as the story develops...

I <3 Almond Paste

2009-07-24T11:53:00.000-07:00

Someone just gave me a box of chocolates filled with almond paste.

I will love her forever.

It Cha-a-anges...

2009-06-29T16:26:00.000-07:00

For the last week or so, I've been feeling vaguely antsy, but didn't know why.

The weather has been beautiful, and I've been "sick" several times during normal working hours. To feel better, I have had to go to Baker Beach and lay on the sand or have a gelato behind the Ferry Building.

I leave to run around New York City with one of my favorite sidekicks in 2 weeks.

What's the fuss?

Enter my prophetic dream:

Kit Kat woke me up at 5AM yesterday with her loud sing-songy early morning meowing, not unlike the song of the Mogwai. I went back to sleep, but had this freaky, freaky dream. Kit Kat had torn up my apartment. A mess! Crap everywhere! And... she pooped in my bed.

At that point, I woke up, looked through my sheets, found no poop, and figured it was all because of my unconfirmed cat-sitting arrangements.

I've taken off for months at a time in the past, but never leaving a kitty behind. What would happen to her? Will she be sad? Will things ever be the same when I get back? You know, she's a used kitty. I don't know anything about her mysterious past. What if Kit Kat gets a letter from her old owner who's sick in the hospital while I'm gone, and she leaves to visit her without saying anything?

It could be just like Snoopy Come Home... which I've never been able to re-watch in my adult life, because it's so freaking sad! It's horrible - all about loss and guilt and even discrimination (i.e., "no dogs allo-o-owed!").

Tell me, and I'm assuming that you have a heart, is the following not the saddest song in the entire world?

Please respond to the poll at the upper right corner of the screen. Your input is greatly appreciated.

Gol Maal!

2009-06-10T09:55:00.000-07:00

I watched my very first Hindi comedy last night and laughed my ass off!

Fake moustaches, real moustaches, fake twin mix ups, song and dance, polyester flares and jazzy clothes, action, romance, sports, accounting, a big car chase in sensible automobiles, a coworker that plucks his nose hairs, the perpetual struggle between traditional values and high spirited youngsters, and great, funky decor. I totally recommend it!

It's posted in chunks on YouTube (but without subtitles), and it was hard to pick a representative sample. This one has a little funky music and fake twin action. And two moustaches!

I give Gol Maal two moustaches way, way up!

Mr. Bhawani Shankar says:

"Get it on Netflix!"

I'm a Teacher, Not a ______________ !

2009-05-23T07:00:00.000-07:00

I just saw that new Star Trek movie.

If you've been following my career exploration odyssey, today's headline was inspired by McCoy:

I give up!

I'm a teacher, not an escalator!

Cat Head

2009-05-16T10:20:00.001-07:00

Off the Bruised Produce Wagon Again

2009-05-09T13:28:00.000-07:00

Preface: Maybe it's not so realistic to try to subsist wholly on discounted produce. Not only can it be a challenge to find the stuff consistently, but I am also god-damned sick to death of eating squished squash and beans.

Today's mission was two-fold: force myself out of the apartment before noon and buy something good (and reasonably priced) to eat.

Since I moved into the new pad, my anti-social tendencies have gone through the roof! Really, now that it's just me, the sofa, a pile of books and records and a pile of cat, why should I leave? It's a happy bubble. There's coffee to drink and Campari and Orangina when I'm feeling fancy. I painted the walls a cheerful color and have lots of windows to check out the action on the street. It's pretty self-contained.

Having lolled around for a solid three months in blissful solitude, I finally figured that it's time to venture out into the world again and decided to get my rear in gear and check out the Alemany Farmer's Market this morning.

Sweet!

I got cheap, groovy, organic, run around and massage the chicken eggs for $2.75, some nice strawberries and a tamale for lunch. And the best thing ever: quark. It's a really soft, Central European cheese and really nice. It has a fairly low fat content, and mixed with spices, so-o-o tasty, creamy, fatty tasting good. I got the garlic type from Spring Hill Cheese Company, from Petaluma.

Ok, I gotta go now.

There is some Wasa crisp bread and globs of garlic-y cheese on the counter calling my name!

Yum!

Why? Why?? My Favorite Fatso!

2009-05-05T10:17:00.000-07:00

Dom DeLuise, one of my all-time favorites, died yesterday.

Because he was such a good eater and so funny, I tag this post as both food and comedy.

For more comedy look at his neat trick on Johnny Carson.

Score!

2009-04-29T13:16:00.000-07:00

A Nasubi Food Foraging Project Update:

After several days of no cheap veg, I just scored two bags at $1.39 each from the fancy organic market, an assortment of mushrooms, red peppers, summer squash & zucchini.

Woo hoo! Imma eat good tonight!

But I do have to cop to the fact that I haven't really stuck to the plan... When there was no discount produce (or I was too lazy to hunt for it), I made a big pot of rice and beans & supplemented with chard or asparagus.

Or cupcakes.

And lots of leftover dark chocolate buttercream frosting.

Anyhow, everything's back on track, and I've decided to extend the experiment on into May.

Yours in bruised vegitude,

Patty

P.S. - I don't recommend the beans and rice diet if you have intrusive coworkers. I've often worried about one of the higher ups who tends to barge into my office with only a split second knock before his big entrance, and today he got his!

Cat Bin

2009-04-27T23:53:00.001-07:00

Update: Fallen Off the Produce Wagon

2009-04-23T11:03:00.000-07:00

I'm down, but not out.

During our mini heatwave, I was far too hot and bitchy to deal with the cheap produce project. I bought cold prepared foods and lay prone on the sofa.

Back on the wagon tomorrow.

Oooh-ooh! And with added incentive to eat a lot of bruised zucchini in order to save a lot of clams: PEU may be taking the show on the road with a madcap New York getaway in mid-July!

Whee!

Me Likey

2009-04-18T07:00:00.000-07:00

Food Thrift Odyssey

2009-04-17T08:37:00.000-07:00

RE: Nasubi Food Foraging Project, Day 3

Food foraging project has been rolled out to great success. It is ATM day, and I still have $1.61 in my pocket. Should I buy some dark chocolate M&M's? Or a $1.49 bag of produce that will feed me for a day??

Potato, I see why my people have had such a long, loving relationship with you. I mashed you up on Wednesday night, and I'm still eating you for lunch on Friday. I bet you're still going to be around on Saturday, too. This could be the start of a beautiful friendship.

As I have been supplementing my "found produce" with the regular staples of morning oatmeal and a weekly big pot o' beans, the health results have been, ahem, impressive. Honestly, astounding. I won't go into great detail. Please get creative with the following imagery: pythons, garden hoses, Lincoln logs.

I have since discovered that there is also a competitive element to this food challenge in that the cheap produce at the fancy market is usually gone by late afternoon. The key is to shop early and shop often.

I wonder what will be there today!!

xo,

P

The Nasubi Food Foraging Project

2009-04-15T13:22:00.000-07:00

Dear Readers,

I feel a little funny and forget how to do this a bit... but here goes. After my prolonged absence, I am finally inspired to write again. Woo hoo! The inspiration came partly from a naked Japanese guy and partly from discounted produce.

During my sabbatical, I did a variety of things: think hard about work, paint the new place, and watch a lot of Internet TV. Hulu has a show from Japan called Denpa Shonen in which an aspiring comedian is left naked in a one room apartment with only a table, a telephone, a couple of pens, a stack of postcards, a shitload of magazines, and the goal of winning $10,000 in goods without ever leaving the room.

Everything that he got, he won via sweepstakes. Everything. Food, toothpaste, toilet paper, clothes... which he never really won much of... his nickname before the show began was already Nasubi (eggplant), but the producers reinforced this idea by compensating for his nudity by electronically covering his private gear with an eggplant. Everything he needed in every day life was to be had through a contest in a magazine.

Poor, crazy Nasubi. Sometimes he would win a bag of rice, sometimes a bag of dog food. Whatever he won, he had no choice but to eat it or go hungry. He got really skinny by the end of the year. But he did it. After 11 months, he won the $10,000 worth of stuff and then some.

Beside my developing a weird crush on Nasubi during the course of the show, I was really impressed by his resourcefulness and perseverance. The show is unbelievably cruel (in the best way), the star is hilarious, lovable and oddly hot, and I totally recommend watching at least one episode.

Some of you may or may not remember my big, big resolutions in January, some blah-blah-blah that involved dough saved and pounds shed. Well, all that is about to come to fruition. Things had gotten a little tight in the last week or two with super thrift requiring me to live off of a set amount each week. There had been more budgeting wiggle room in the past, but since I've liked watching TV on the Internet so much, I decided to just go ahead a get a big-ass TV for Chez Patty. That means, if there's only $10 left near the end of the week, I just have to live off that $10 until ATM day rolls around again. No dipping into savings.

Some how, last weekend I blew all of my self-imposed allowance and only left myself $40 for groceries and gas for Monday to Thursday. Frantic? Not so much.

Standing in line at the same grocery store that inspired so many other cooking challenges, I spied a big bag of 99 cent produce. Voila! A big bunch of zucchini and a mildly wilted yellow pepper. If I sprang for an onion, that could make a mighty nice side dish that could last a couple of meals.

And so it was.

Today, a couple of blocks away at the fancier market with precious, organic vegetables planted by nuns, I picked up two bags of slightly used produce for $1.49 each. One only potatoes, the other a wrinkly pepper and some nice-ish mushrooms. Score!

So here's the throwdown: for the rest of the month, I would like to try living off of only "found produce." Whatever is in the little discount bags, that's what's for dinner.

Hopefully, as a byproduct, I will save a tidy sum for the new TV and lose a couple of lbs.

What do you think?

Teaser Post!

2009-04-07T09:27:00.000-07:00

Out of Office AutoReply

2009-03-03T15:22:00.001-08:00

I admit it.

I'm spent at the moment and need to recharge my battery. All extracurricular activities are off until further notice!

Back in a couple of weeks.

xo,

Patty

Big Public Announcement

2009-02-20T11:38:00.000-08:00

The cat formerly known as "Flaca" or "G.G. Flacawitz" shall henceforth be referred to as "Kit Kat."

Cat Kryptonite!

2009-02-15T20:46:00.000-08:00

Sunday night, G.G. Flacawitz and I are playing in my giant closet and listening to music when Al Jolson comes on singing Toot Toot Tootsie. Kitty stops killing her stuffed mouse and walks over to give the radio the stink eye during the super whistling solo and doesn't move until it's over.

I played it again a half hour later whilst kitty was about to pound on a Venetian glass fish and it stopped her cold.

Excellent.

Sing Along Saturday: Rainy Weather Edition

2009-02-14T07:00:00.000-08:00

A few weeks ago on Wait, Wait... Don't Tell Me! when Burt Bacharach was a guest, host Peter Sagal told a nutty story about visiting LBJ's Texas ranch. Somewhere along the tour, this song was piped into the bus he was riding on along with a story about how it was the former President's favorite song during his tumultuous White House years.

Please Send in Your Cat Manicure Tips

2009-02-13T11:50:00.001-08:00

What Have I Done?

2009-02-09T11:15:00.000-08:00

I got a cat.

She's a turd.

I woke up this morning, 36 hours into our relationship, to find her at the foot of my bed. Inside my bed, a little to the left.

Note to self: "Aww... little weirdo, maybe she loves me."

Stepping into the shower, I notice two long, bloody scratches on my left foot.

What You Miss Out on When You Have No TV

2009-02-06T13:50:00.001-08:00

Even though I'd been more or less TV-less in the last year and a half or so, in the new place it's absolute zero. I was jonesing for one a little bit the other day since I don't have a proper Internet connection yet.

What else can I sit and look at?

Then I remembered how TV can be kinda gross. Fox News, Rachel Ray, that octuplet lady getting TV show offers and this:

It looks like an early 90's Saturday Night Live skit.

Where is Phil Hartman?

Blech.

On Toting Many Boxes of Heavy Books from One Apartment to the Next

2009-02-03T10:31:00.000-08:00

Dear Books,

I love you very, very much, but it's time to move on. You'll have your life, and I'll have mine. I can even come to visit you sometimes, but now this is the way it needs to be.

Goodbye.

Love,

Patty

This Video's a Kick

2009-01-29T09:22:00.000-08:00

To: Faithful Readers

From: Neglectful Blogger

RE: This post

Frantically getting it together for M-Day, talking to chatty PG&E people, counting paper cuts from moving boxes (and box cutter cuts?), but still finding time for time wasters like Puppy Cam and YouTube featured videos:

Happy Crappy Weather Music

2009-01-24T07:00:00.000-08:00

And happy music for sitting in your icky office thinking about anxious-making moving.

Yikes!

For this Sing Along Saturday, I respectfully submit to you the following fresh cut from the Tams, "Be Young, Be Foolish, Be Happy":

Not so much dancey pants as toe-tappin', swivel chair swingin'...

High Anxiety and Scientific Inquiry

2009-01-23T08:49:00.000-08:00

Blech.

I hate moving.

All this week, I've felt like I'm getting the flu, but I'm pretty sure it's just a by-product of my high anxi-i-iety. Really nauseated. First, I thought it was last Saturday's greasy Chinese take-out which I ate up to Monday. Then the weird instant ramen that I bought for a novelty dinner party theme. Yeah, I ate that all week, too.

No, I think it's the moving.

I realized last night that it was the only block of free time that I'd have before the 31st, so I started taking pictures down and doing superficial shuffling and puttering. The puttering was the study control. Easy puttering like taking magnets off the fridge? Urge to barf waned. Difficult puttering like deciding which books didn't really need to come to the tiny new apartment? Nausea rising... rising... rising...

**ABRUPT TOPIC CHANGE**

On another topic, can being around babies alter your sense of smell?

I babysat little PJ Funnybunny, age almost 1, on Wednesday night and the next morning everything smelled different. I did take a shower and put on clean clothes and gave myself a liberal douse of my signature scent, but sitting at my desk yesterday morning, all I could smell was peanut butter, baby wipes and vitamins.

Nausea rising... rising... rising!

Ok, community of scientific readers, please respond. Is it a weird hormonal thing? Can being all cuddly all over a baby do a funky hormone release and alter your sense of smell?

Music to Watch Girls By

2009-01-17T12:17:00.000-08:00

This girl's gotta get her rear in gear to go out and walk by, but it's Sing Along Saturday, and so I hastily submit to you another desert island disc from one of my absolute all-time favorites, Andy Williams!

Practical English Usage HQ Is Moving!

2009-01-16T08:56:00.000-08:00

Bright and sunny, hardwood floors, eat-in kitchen, large walk-in closet. Great location, close to MUNI, walking distance to restaurant and shops in Cole Valley. Pet friendly.

I move in February 1st.

Mine, all mine.

Alone!

It may be trite to post this video given the pundit dorks that have been abusing it lately, but I feel just like George Jefferson today! The first thing that I plan to do when I move in is dance all over the bed. If I can convince any lanky neighbor to come over, I'll tap dance on his back. I studied all of the names on the buzzer beside the entrance to the building, and there may be a couple of interracial couples that could drop in from time to time for Norman Lear hijinks.

If you come over, it's not the deluxe apartment in the sky, but the modest unit on the ground floor above the garage.

Whee-e-e-e-e-e!

Writing Class, Day 1

2009-01-12T21:47:00.000-08:00

Tonight was the first meeting of the fancy writing seminar that I signed up for and had been looking forward to for weeks, and today I was kinda losing my cool:

Why the hell did I sign up for this thing anyway?

What the hell are we gonna write about?

Couldn't it be like the first day of nearly every college course I'd ever taken (or taught), where the instructor hands out the syllabus and then we go home?

I had a little... performance anxiety.

Did I have lead in my pencil?

It turned out to be not so painful and fairly fun. We talked a little bit about creative blocks and then responded to goofy prompts in five minute bursts followed by a short round of appreciative comments.

Here is an excerpt from my brand new fluffy puppy notebook in response to, "I should ______, but...":

I should floss with a back and forth sort of sawing motion, but usually, if I remember to floss at all, I just yank the floss down between my teeth. The hygienist scolds me for this habit, the habit that I just learned that I had. She has me in a headlock between her large, pillowy bosoms that are the size of her large, curly head and her horrible hands jabbing at my gums. It's as if she's never handled a human subject before.

Ouch! And that's not a piece of fiction.

I'm off to floss with a back and forth motion, and then to dreamland.

Night!

Sing Along Saturday with Cyndi Lauper...

2009-01-10T09:07:00.000-08:00

... and the Goonies, and Captain Lou Albano, and Classy Freddie Blassie and the Iron Sheik, and Rowdy Roddy Piper!!

Last night I didn't feel so hot, so after dinner I made a cup of coffee, got into my PJ's and took some telemedicine, a big dose of 30 Rock, Season 2. I lo-o-ove that sho-o-ow. Mostly because it's so funny, but also being from the same generation as the writers, I actually get all the jokes and references. In "Ludichristmas," the viewers are introduced to Liz Lemon's brother Mitch (Andy Richter!) who is mentally stuck in 1985. He reveals to Liz that he went with their parents to see The Goonies without her which incited a huge family feud. Of course, there were other (more important?) details involved, but I think that I would have had a shit fit, too, if someone had excluded me from seeing one of the best movies ever so good that I still remember the day that I saw it with Giuia, Michelle and Angelica.

OK...

2009 Goal #2: a PSA from Charley & Humphrey

2009-01-09T09:18:00.000-08:00

More later!

Creature Features' Bob Wilkins (1932-2009)

2009-01-09T09:06:00.000-08:00

God, I wish TV could be like that more often... buckets of Kentucky Fried Chicken, giant Tootsie Rolls... and gorillas.

See the Chronicle's obit for Bob Wilkins here.

"Watch horror films, keep America strong."

Return to Work Post-Holiday Trauma: a Happy/Sad Post

2009-01-05T16:34:00.000-08:00

I'm so sad to be back in my yucky chair at my yucky desk in my yucky office (actually, the chair's not that bad... over time it has perfectly molded to my butt). I've been in a fog all day, first from having eaten leftover bourbon-soaked chocolate cake for breakfast (not intoxicating in that way, just rich) and then from being back at work after nearly 2 weeks away. I nearly cried when I had to come back from lunch. Then I got an email from a friend saying that her company announced a big round of layoffs today, and I remembered that it's not so bad to be here.

I never thought I would get used to the office life. I had rarely understood office humor when friends would try to push it on me... Office Space, the Office... yawn... and had absolutely no taste for it. But I'm warming up to it a little bit now. My favorites are scenes from Murray's office on Flight of the Conchords:

And that is the very, very happy part of this post (that and that I have 2 jobs when some people have zero): season 2 of Flight of the Conchords starts on January 18th!

Wheeee!

Sing Along Saturday: Now with MORE Dancey Pants

2009-01-03T07:00:00.000-08:00

"Chicken Payback" by the Bees has been percolating in my iPod for at least a year or so and has lately become a favorite for solo dance party breaks. After a short but vigorous prancey routine yesterday, I thought to look up who the Bees were. I had always figured that it was an old song that someone had messed with, but I was fooled! It was released in 2005! This washed up record nerd was had... but now I have a new favorite new band and might have to pick up the whole album tomorrow (ahem... used, in observance of keeping the New Year's resolutions).

Dig the video, too.

Goals for 2009

2009-01-01T11:11:00.000-08:00

I've already goofed on my very first goal for 2009, which was to get out of bed and out of the apartment by mid-morning for a few laps around the track at Kezar. Here I lie at 11:20 a.m., back under the covers in my PJ's after breakfast, pecking at my laptop and entertaining vague notions of still getting it together for a run.

This one small failure was not for naught, however, since I was sidetracked during coffee time by articles on New Year's resolutions and it got me to thinking. The first one was a little disheartening. On the homepage of the New York Times online was a picture of huge Oprah in a big red dress, with boobs that matched the size of her head. Not her metaphorical head. The size of her actual head. They are colossal. If you keep track of these things in line at the grocery store, Oprah has packed on the pounds again, going from a low of 160 back up to 200 lbs. She says that she didn't just fall off the wagon, but that she let the wagon fall on her. (Was it a wagon filled with doughnuts?)

Anyhoo, the article, "New Year, New You? Nice Try," reported on findings from a few experts in the fields of psychology and medicine that seem to indicate the futility of our January vows. In general, the majority of us do not change. Change, while not impossible, is difficult. In our social hierarchies, we are not hardwired for rapid change; it would throw things into chaos. If change is to occur, it happens slowly, and people often get sidetracked. For successful resolutions, one of the cited experts outlined this four step process:

Think big. Big changes will produce more immediate, noticeable results. Instant gratification.

Fake it until you make it. Act like the person you want to become.

"Reframe" the situation. Accept any regrets you may have over this thing you want to change and move forward.

Don't do it alone. This is the step that most often prods along success.

After this instructive, somewhat downer article, I moved on to my other favorite morning reading, personal finance blogs. The first is always Get Rich Slowly. It's written by a guy in Portland, Oregon who found himself $35,000 dollars in the red four years ago and has managed to not only get out of credit card debt, but also to start investing wisely and to move from a crummy 9-5 job to his dream job of full-time writer. I love it. Being a credit card junkie myself, I found the blog when I started my own get-out-of-debt resolution, and since then I check it most every day. With regard to the aforementioned 4 step program for change, reading it everyday has been totally effective in that I'm not doing it (getting control over finances) alone.

And maybe I have job change fantasies, too. (Wink.)

Today, the Get Rich Slowly writer reviewed his progress toward the resolutions that he set for himself on New Year's Day 2008. Rather than resolutions, he set goals for himself. Being a teacher, this makes perfect sense in trying to make a change that sticks. When writing a course syllabus, you don't come up with a vague list of things that students will do in your class (e.g., speak and write English). Instead, you outline measurable skills that students will walk away with (e.g., give basic personal information in English, recognize the letters of the alphabet, etc.). Something that can, in theory, be scientifically measured over time. Progress to be measured and hopefully, a finish line to cross.

So here goes, my own list of goals for 2009. Respectfully submitted to the public so that I am not "doing it alone." Feel free to share your own stories and/or to cheer/badger me toward meeting these goals in the new year:

To repay $10,000 in consumer debt.

To lose 10 pounds.

To get a promotion.

To edge a little closer to my dream job.

Ugh. There. I said them all. Now in order to meet the #2 goal, I've got to get out of here and lace up the ol' orthopedic running shoes! I'll follow up on these in the coming weeks.

I realize the conclusion to this entry is abrupt, but I had to take the band aid off fast. It feels a little weenie to put all those things out there, and there you have it.

Bye!!

PEU Updates and Well Wishes for 2009

2008-12-30T13:04:00.000-08:00

Hello Readers,

I write to you from my secret underground bunker, wearing my new uniform of sweats and orthopedic running shoes. It's Day 6 of my holiday leave, and I've gone completely feral. What is day? What is night? Why use a plate? Why change clothes if clothes not dirty? Me use noun, verb only. Uhn.

OK, I have changed my clothes occasionally when I have had to be seen in public. And apparently, I'm not doing so bad with the sweats, afro, and lack of rouge because I just came back from the friendly neighborhood vitamin store where the guys replacing the broken window were still checking it out. Woo hoo! Score: P = one; Sweats & spotty skin = zero (?).

Whittling away at my random time off to-do list which has been totally derailed by Mad Men. In fact, as soon as I finish writing this, I plan to treat myself to another episode. That show has a great deal to do with my lack of recognition for appropriate bedtime hours. A few days ago, EB lent me the first season of the show in a feverish frenzy, so that I, too, could see how good it is and then we could talk about it. I figured I'd watch one episode before sleep o'clock and ended up watching three in a row and turning out the lights at 3 a.m.

When I woke up much, much later the following morning, I wondered what was happening with my new friends, Don Draper and Peggy Olson. What were they doing today? What's going to happen to them next? Boy, that Don Draper sure is attractive.

Holy crap - I need to take it easy with the non-stop DVD TV.

Back on track, I fooled myself back into a respectable routine by parking my car on an early morning street cleaning street so that I'd have to be awake and alert by 8 a.m. and thus have a fighting chance at a productive day. So far, so good.

As for some of the things that are being checked off the list of checks... this blog should get a whole lot snazzier in 2009 since I signed up for a fancy writing seminar and hopefully, a blogging/podcasting class so that you may get a little more than videos when I'm too busy and/or lazy to do a more thoughtful post.

Thank you for those of you who participated in last week's polls. By a landslide, the majority of you know what someone is saying when they make crude references to a chilly workman's behind and laugh when you read things purposely misspelled.

A big Happy New Year to everyone!

Here are some helpful tips for the single male readers from my new friend, Don:

Sing Along Saturday with Tom Jones and Dancey Pants

2008-12-27T07:00:00.000-08:00

If I absolutely, positively had to name my top 10 desert island discs ever, "It's Not Unusual" would for sure need to make the cut. Tom Jones and this song in particular make me go bananas. Ants in the pants, crazy, pepped up bonkers. I could listen to it 10 times in a row and still be excited for it the 57th go round. The horn section, the Tom section... what's not to love?

It's not unusual to see me having a one woman dance party all by myself, even in my pissy post-holiday snit from having spent Christmas day with a person who could very well be the product of an illicit affair between Sean Hannity and his baby daddy, Bill O'Reilly.

Yuck. Ptooey!

Seriously. This song must be musical medicine because Dr. Jones made it all better with his instant happiness and smooth moves.

Here is the Rx to give you dancey pants:

Christmas Comedy with Cocktails

2008-12-23T10:00:00.000-08:00

Oof, it was really hard to type in that title without using the letter "K" in place of the "C's." To the low of humor--myself included, nay, leading the pack--"K" makes everything funnier. Would you have like this post better if it had been titled, Kristmas Komedy Kut-Ups? Please respond to the poll to the right.

Sitting at my desk this morning, just as my supervisor walked in, I was guffawing over this piece in the NYT's Proof blog (all about booze), "Really, It's the Booze Talking." For real, there was no good save for that one. No email from Accounts Payable could be that hilarious. It's one man's true list of things that he has overheard at holiday parties, all from people holding a drink in their hands.

A small sampling:

“I don’t believe we’ve met. Oh, really? Right next door? Ten years?”
“I’m lucky in that my business is recession-proof. People will always need stool softeners.”
“So I told human resources flat out, it’s not sexual harassment if I can prove I’m impotent.”

By the way, I have no shame: it was the stool softener one that made me lose my cool.

Give yourself a treat today and check it out. The author writes for The Colbert Report.

And speaking of Christmas and trouble with the drink, here's the Pogues' "Fairytale of New York," (sadly?) one of my favorite Christmas songs. It's a very small portrait in detail, only 4 minutes long:

Sing Along Saturday

2008-12-20T07:00:00.000-08:00

New feature for the PEU inspired by... Jimmy Gilmer's Sugar Shack! It's a long story, but for now just enjoy George McCrae, and Rock Your Baby (while you're at it).

Thanks, Santa!

2008-12-19T10:16:00.000-08:00

Dear Santa,

Wow, you sure know what to get a girl for Christmas!

I sure hope that Sarah likes her present, too.

xo,

P

*******************************************************

Votin' time again! Does Levi Johnston's mom really run a meth lab?

Vocab Corner

2008-12-16T22:48:00.000-08:00

Fuh-reezing tonight. 40 degrees is fairly cold for S.F.

So, when I sat madly plowing through painful paragraphs in the teacher's resource room earlier this evening and a coworker came in complaining about the chill, I said:

"Christ! It's colder than a well-digger's ass!"

"Huh?"

"Cold! Cold as a witch's teat!"

She had never heard these things before--savvy, sassy, educated, late 30's, originally from Boston--and looked at me as if I were speaking in tongues or Olde English. I usually chalk up the fossilized lingo to my having ancient parents, but seriously... do you never hear these things? I'd be sad for language like this to die out and also very glad for people to know what the hell I'm talking about.

Please respond to the new reader poll to the right so that we can shed some light on this matter.

Now I have to go watch more 30 Rock until my eyes fall out.

And don't let the door hit you where the good Lord split you!

*Ok, that I stole from the Tony Bennett sketch.

Guest Post: Alec Baldwin?

2008-12-14T22:20:00.000-08:00

So, I've been pretty lazy for the last couple of months... well, excu-u-u-use me! I've been kinda busy: working, moonlighting, and general goofing off.

Now I'm grading paragraphs that I shan't describe so as to preserve the anonymity of the authors. They make my eyes cry. My red pen is losing its will to make sharp commentary and picky, persnickety grammar corrections on these word salads. To keep myself plowing through the pile, I've been taking 30 Rock (my new love and deserving of a separate post) breaks and listening to Mal Sharpe on KCSM who mentions that Alec Baldwin (aka Jack Donaghy) does a mean Tony Bennett.

Hilarious. Listen to the description of the lady in need of a nail fungus Rx:

Comedy from Our Chief Political Consultant

2008-12-08T22:13:00.000-08:00

Thanks, Jorge!

Drinking Manners

2008-12-05T10:00:00.000-08:00

This is one of the myriad reasons why I'll always be madly in love with Japan:

I found this public service announcement from the Tokyo metro system on my new favorite blog, Tokyo Times. It's written by a guy from England who has been living in Tokyo for the past 10 years and who hasn't lost his sense of wonder at some of the absurdities you'll find while living abroad. Not that the PSA above is absurd. I think it's absolutely practical. Why dance around it people? It's really not nice to get shit-faced and carry on in public.

Please.

Do it at home.

Tokyo Times also has a great series on haikyo (modern ruins) that have sprouted up in great numbers since the burst of the Japanese economic bubble. There are tons of photos posted of places built in better times--a love hotel, a fitness resort, and a mid-century mining town--that have been abruptly abandoned. I really don't understand how very abruptly these things happened, but in all of the photos, it looks as though everyone just got up and left one day. Furniture, paper records, and the stuff of daily life all lay strewn about and in decay. All a bit spooky and sad, but some quite pretty.

Really, though, I only meant to write about our public example, the gentleman drinker. It being Friday night and the end of a very long week, I'll be meeting Madame N and Steve for drinks after work. We'll have to remember to bring our briefcases full of papers to fashion into pillows for the ride home on Muni.

Kanpai!

Lazy Man Post!

2008-12-03T17:37:00.000-08:00

But seriously, folks... it's hilarious: "Prop 8 - The Musical."

See more Jack Black videos at Funny or Die

It's Turkey Lurkey Time

2008-11-27T07:00:00.000-08:00

What Faces For an Unveiling

2008-11-24T12:27:00.000-08:00

C'mon, guys on the right and left... put on a nice face for the press conference... nothing to fear but fear itself... don't make me do another glut of inspirational golden oldies... well, ok... just this one since it immediately popped into my head when I saw those sourpusses:

Quel Dommage!

2008-11-23T22:06:00.000-08:00

I talked to two different people tonight about the world's current economic woes, and in both conversations we agreed that there is nothing to worry about. Things are tough, we survive, and the situation rights itself again. Not the end of the world.

However, this article has convinced me the end is nigh.

What is France without cafes?

Oh, la la... this does it. I do need to go over there in order to single-handedly keep these people in the black.

Pennies from Shirley Bassey & the Muppets

2008-11-21T17:00:00.000-08:00

Pennies from Dino

2008-11-20T17:00:00.000-08:00

Pennies from Heaven

2008-11-19T17:46:00.000-08:00

Don't worry; listen to der Bingle.

And not this one.

My Cousin, Barry Dunham

2008-11-11T12:10:00.000-08:00

Yes, it's corny, but I told my mother that he's granny's cousin, and here's some more evidence.

Wow!

2008-11-05T07:46:00.000-08:00

Sumisu, you're the best:

Happy Birthday, Patty!

For your birthday, a couple of friends and I got together and got you a new president. (Sorry we won't be able to deliver him until January.)

Election Day 2008

2008-11-04T13:00:00.000-08:00

Courtesy of Sumisu:

Day of the Dead and Day of the Birth(day)

2008-11-03T21:48:00.000-08:00

Readers, I have arrived.

I have just made my first cream sauce.

Last night, I went with my friend Nancy to the Mission Cultural Center to see their annual Day of the Dead altar exhibit. What a scene! It felt more like Night of the Living Hipsters than a traditional cultural event, but I digress...

Walking around with Nancy, we looked at the cool and artsy altars, decorated with things to commemorate a loved one that has passed away: flowers, food, figurines and pictures. Things the dearly departed loved in life. Nancy told me about the time that she lived in Guanajuato, Mexico, when she made a little altar in her house for her dad, good old Eddie Mackowsky, who was crazy for coffee, neckties, and the musical South Pacific.

We had hot chocolate and pan de muerto for $1 and walked down 24th Street to try and get away from the faux Day of the Dead parade, which seemed to be comprised mainly of scroungy refugees from Burning Man. As we dodged the crowds of young nuts with painted skeleton faces, Nancy asked me what I might put on an altar for my own dad, who passed away three years ago. Of course, I said, there would be a little bottle of bourbon and a little Buick grandpa car. For sure a loop of all of the judge shows (e.g. Judge Judy, Judge Mills Lane, Judge Joe Brown), some nice pens and all pilfered office supplies, and the traditional Saturday night barbecued hamburger. Those were some of the things that came immediately to mind. It was a nice exercise and made me a little sentimental for the old fart.

Tonight, I had planned well in advance to make this dish with the cream sauce, having gotten all of the ingredients together yesterday on my trip to the market. I had read it in my new Jacqu es Pépin cookbook months ago and thought about making it as soon as the fall weather really got going, which it officially did this weekend with all of the rain we had. It had ham and peas and corn and cheese and browns under the broiler with Parmesan cheese on top. Bubbly and hot. Yum-my.

It also called for a white sauce, which I never in my life had ever made. Not that I had anything against the taste, it was just that the thought of it smacked of geriatrics. Dear old dad was born in the year of 1923 and would wax poetic about all of the things that his own mother would make, it seemed, invariably, in a cream sauce. To me, it made me think of shit on a shingle, or Turkey a la King. Bad things, left over, in disguise. And olden times. Nothing to get all excited about.

Whisking together the butter and flour and pouring in the milk, I thought about Nancy's altar exercise. For sure, my dad's altar needed some gravy. He loved to make gravy and was absolutely meticulous about how it was made. It was some kind of sacrament and maybe, just maybe, you had to murmur in Latin as you leaned over the steaming pot. Not just anyone was allowed to make the gravy in our house, and I never even ventured to think that I might make it. Not like I thought I lacked the skills to do so, I would just liked to have lacked the headache and frenzy that goes along with all of the instructions and hovering and panic, as if someone might die if they were to have a lump in their god damned gravy (last sentence typed with all loving amusement and eye rolling).

And so, being in my own kitchen and successfully, to my own forgiving palate, making a cream sauce after last night's talk felt like a fitting tribute to dear old dad. And moreover, a recognition for my own self on the (almost) eve of my birthday. The torch has been passed. The kid is now the adult. On Wednesday, I will officially be another year older. It's a good thing that I'm getting comfortable with the cream sauce.

Pasta, Ham, and Vegetable Gratin

The goods:

About 1 3/4 cups of pasta shells or penne
1 1/2 cups diced (1/2 inch) cooked ham
3/4 cup corn kernels
1/2 cup peas
1 1/2 cups cubed (1/2 inch) zucchini
3/4 tsp. salt
3/4 tsp. fresh black pepper
3/4 cup grated Swiss (Gruyère or Emmenthaler) cheese

For the white sauce:

2 tbsp. unsalted butter
2 tbsp. all-purpose four
2 cups milk
1/2 cup heavy cream
2 tbsp. freshly grated Parmesan cheese

Cook the pasta until still slightly firm. Drain, cool under cold running water, and drain again.

Put the cooked pasta in a big bowl and stir together with the ham, corn, peas, zucchini, salt, pepper, and Swiss cheese.

For the sauce, melt the better in a saucepan (and by the way, just saying the word "saucepan" also makes me feel like an official adult), add the flour, and mix it in with a whisk. Add the milk and bring it to a boil, stirring occasionally with the whisk, especially at sides, where it tends to stick. The sauce should thicken at this point. Take the pan from the heat, and mix in the cream. Let it stand until lukewarm.

Heat the broiler. Combine the sauce in the big bowl with the pasta mixture and transfer it to a gratin dish or shallow baking dish. Sprinkle with the Parmesan cheese.

Broil about 4 inches from the heating source for 6 to 8 minutes, or until lightly browned and bubbly. Eat it immediately.

The crisp brown top and the hot creamy underneath were heaven together. I was sad to put it away for leftovers, but hopefully it will ferment in the fridge and be good in a different way tomorrow.

I would say "bon appetite" or "happy cooking," but in honor of my dad, I'll say:

Eat it, like it, and smile!

Super Fun (and Fascinating) Website

2008-10-29T22:40:00.000-07:00

The Living Room Candidate has presidential campaign commercials from 1952 to the present, and you can spend way too long (like I did) watching ads from both parties (and Ross Perot). For sure I was moved by Obama's 30 minute spot tonight, but both of the jingles posted here were just as potent. Mmm, maybe worked even better... they're cheerful and a great brainwashing technique. Hopefully McCain won't catch on to one of these:

Like the Weather

2008-10-29T07:00:00.000-07:00

Monte Rio, Vacation Wonderland

2008-10-27T20:41:00.000-07:00

I'm supposed to be doing some grading right now, so of course, I started farting around on the Internet and looking at what movies I can rent on iTunes. But I'm way too cheap to use my credit card to rent movies when I've got Netflix, so I just keep dawdling around to see what they've got. La-dee-da, la-dee-da...

Then I see they've got soundtracks bunched in with classic movies. Gotta fart around and look at those, too. Doot-doo-doo...

Then I found the 100 Greatest Movie Themes Ever, which included Dueling Banjos from Deliverance, and I couldn't help myself but write about my weekend getaway up at the Russian River last weekend. Overall, it was great. My coworker has a nice little cabin in Monte Rio not far from the Bohemian Grove, and he offered to let me stay there whenever I had the inclination. Picture this: a tiny, rustic doll hut owned by two foxy middle-aged gay men, one of them some kind of kitchen designer. Tiny kitchen with an electric range, tiny bathroom, tiny dining room with a tiny table and two chairs, a loft with a cozy bed to sleep in, a deck, and a tiny living room with a comfy chair, reading lamp, radio, and a wood stove to keep you warm. No frills, totally minimalist, all perfectly laid out with just the essentials and pleasing to the eye.

Just me and the cabin. And a good book to read. And an iPod to listen to. And some papers to grade if I felt up to it.

Sigh.

Heavenly.

I was so excited that I told anyone who would listen where I was going and what I was doing that weekend. A lot of people said, "You're going by yourself? Really??" Yeah - that's the whole point. You know, like Thoreau and Walden or Annie Dillard and Tinker Creek. Simplify, simplify.

When Peder gave me the key and all the necessary instructions, he was a little worried, too. "Are you sure? Maybe you should take someone with you..." I didn't think anything of it. Maybe he's worried because I'd never built a fire before. "Hmm? What? The crackheads next door broke your porch light sensor? What a shame." La-dee-da, la-dee-da... I'm going on vacation. "What? You stay outside on the deck until late because you're two men and you have a big dog? Oh, that's nice. Since it's chilly at night, I probably won't sit outside at night."

Even the Friday traffic out of the city couldn't break my giddy reverie. La-dee-da, la-dee-da... off the exit to the beautiful River Road. Rolling fields studded with grape vines showing their autumn colors, a produce stand, open space, tall shady redwoods and green. Grand.

The doll hut, perfect as I've already described. When I got in the door, I called my coworker to let him know that I had arrived and that I wouldn't be at work on Monday and that I was going to move in it was so cute. I set down my suitcase and drank it all in. A little cabin in the woods, with a dry creek in the back and trees as far as the eyes can see. One neighbor on each side a little down the road. One closer than the other. Judging by the dilapidated vehicles strewn about their lot, the crackheads. Off I went on foot down the Bohemian Highway to the little market for supplies. Hmm... what did they have... a lot of canned food, some icky iceberg lettuce, some overly waxy Red Delicious apples. Hmm... I guess I'll buy some milk and baked beans for dinner, and I have the nice pear I brought from home, too. Oh, that's fine. I'm roughing it.

Then it got dark. And I had to walk past the crackhead compound. And one man and his three teeth were just standing there by one of the rusting cars.

Eeeeeeeee...

Well, I'll make a fire and eat my damn beans, and everything will be great. Only, I didn't really know how to make a fire. It kept dying on me. And it was cold, really, really cold, in the doll hut. And dark outside. And two little windows with no covering on them. And black, black, black outside in the woods. And my big-eyed, innocent, and worried reflection staring back at me in the cold, black, naked little windows of the darling doll hut.

The phone rings!

It's Steve, who didn't come with me because he had so many papers to grade. He called to tell me not to look outside and to not get killed by an axe murderer in the middle of nowhere. All alone. Mwah-haha-haha-haha!!

Great. I'll look outside again to see my own face in the glass. No, I'll pretend everything is fine and read my book, and if someone comes to kill me, I'll see them bursting through the window in time to scream bloody murder to no one in particular.

Then the sawing started. Really. Like a god damned buzz saw. Granted, it was only about 8:30, but it was dark, in the f-ing woods. Who does that?

The crackheads!! Who maybe saw a purdy girl all by her lonesome go in that thar cabin over there. The one made outta plywood.

I looked in the window off in the direction of their creepy compound, but I only see my own uneasy reflection.

She got a real purdy mouth.

I went to bed.

At least I would die warm, or have some happy, warm moments before I'm dragged off to the crackhead encampment.

The next day, I thawed out some and recovered from my night time terrors, but I still didn't feel quite as rhapsodic about my time in nature. People that live in vacation wonderland when the crowds and sunshine have gone away are a different type. I drove to town to walk around for a bit and get some lunch and wondered at the people on the street. I felt like a regular Obama-style elitist. My teeth (twenty-eight) outnumbered my tattoos (zero), while quite a few people I passed on the street could likely claim the inverse.

All the while, I couldn't stop thinking about Deliverance:

I had a very nice time mostly, but next time, I'd like to bring along a friend. A very big friend who's good at building fires, although I did get good at it, but so good that I burned up all the firewood a little too far before bedtime on my second night in the lonely little doll hut away in the sinister woods.

If Andy Griffith and the Fonze Say So...

2008-10-24T17:49:00.000-07:00

It must be right:

See more Ron Howard videos at Funny or Die

The Gospel According to Funny Face

2008-10-21T22:40:00.000-07:00

Lesson 1: Empathy

If you're going to be a proper Empathicalist, the first thing you've got to understand is empathy:

In a Subjunctive Mood

2008-10-14T09:35:00.000-07:00

After Deadline is a weekly grammar critique in the NY Times by the deputy news editor in charge of the Time's style manual. Today's topic is "subjunctivitis," as in "if I were a better grammar nerd, I would already be hip to this feature."

Mmm... nerdy...

Jury Duty, Food Hang-ups, and an Autumn Recipe

2008-10-10T19:55:00.000-07:00

Phew. What a week! What a month...

So the thing that I had been so cagey about in my September posts? I got picked to serve on a jury for a trial that lasted nearly the entire month. Who ever actually gets picked? My whole schema for the deal was that you get the notice, you piss and moan about it until the day that you're supposed to show up at court, then you go to court and get dismissed. All in all, not a big deal. A minor inconvenience in your regular routine. I was actually looking forward to the day because I had a huge stack of papers to grade that I had neglected over the Labor Day weekend as I was busy chasing peacocks (for sure, a whole other post).

So I go to 850 Bryant, which is a thousand times better than any episode of Law & Order or COPS or Flavor of Love or whatever it is the kids are watching these days. Really, I don't have the words to describe it. At first, it made me feel all Heart of Darkness, but in retrospect, I think it's an incredible place and wonder every now and then what's going on there now. Who is waiting line at security? What colorful folks are congregating on the front steps? Who's sitting in my regular spot in the juror lounge now? Do I miss the coffee at Caffe Roma enough to want to go there without a summons? I'll just use this quote from a guy on Yelp:

Jury duty at 850 Bryant kicks ass over the one at 425 McAllister.

1st off, it's criminal court. The cases you sit in on are much more interesting than the ones at 425 McAllister. The characters milling in and around "The HoJ" (Short for the "Hall of Justice") are pretty colorful. The inside area is what I like to describe as something of a petting zoo, but with gangsters and felons instead of chickens and mule deer. You can get right up close to social miscreants that you'd never dare approach in public, and do so with little or no chance of physical harm. Take your lunch breaks out on the front steps....the freak show continues. It's fun to watch the pimps pulling up in their rides to get their ladies.

It does kick ass. For a super duper people watcher, there is nothing quite like it. My first day there was chaos. After the long weekend, a sizeable chunk of the city's population had to show up for arraignment and this jury selection. The line to get through security spilled out the front doors, down the stairs, down the block, to the street and on to the next corner. I stood stone faced behind a gigantic, smelly, older gentleman, shifting uncomfortably with a briefcase full of ESL texts and and 10 lbs of students' writing. My comrade in line-waiting was getting ripe in the rare early morning heat and hoping for small talk.

He says, "you da judge?"

"No, sir. I'm just here for jury duty."

"Oh, you gonna be da foeman. You gonna send him up the river."

"The only thing I'm going to do today is drink coffee."

"You gonna give it to him."

"No, no. I'm only gonna make an egg salad sandwich when I get home."

"You know the food in there's no good? I been in there three days, and it ain't no good. No, sir."

Thankfully, my friend gets distracted by negotiating stairs as the line starts to move.

Long story short (because I would have to start a whole other blog devoted entirely to this unique episode), I ended up serving on a criminal case involving a man who we finally found guilty of second degree murder for stabbing his ex-girlfriend in front of her children. I feel odd writing about it--it feels gossipy or somehow disrespectful--but really, it was an unimaginable experience. Watching all of these people at work, the lawyers, the bailiffs, the police, the witnesses. Watching the people watching the case. The family members, the law students, the newspaper reporters, the interpreters. Watching the other jurors watching the people we're supposed to watch. Spending day after day after day after day with the same sixteen strangers (five alternates) that I sometimes wanted to be far, far away from and now miss. Making a grave decision with 11 of these strangers. It may sound trite, but it often reminded me of the story of the blind men and the e lephant. How more cases don't end in hung juries is amazing to me. We all saw things in our own way and felt very strongly about the things that we saw.

Then back to work to adjust into my old routine, and the routine got weird (see "Business Is My Trouble"). At my new, temporary desk, I still have plenty of opportunity for people watching, only it's hardly ever as interesting as criminal court. Today it was a coworker complaining loudly all day about her new Weight Watchers lifestyle. Why was she 30 pounds heavier than she thought she was? Why did her calories add up to so much when all she had was a microwaved frozen dinner and some crackers with non-fat cheese. She gave a detailed "point" analysis of every meal that she had eaten the day before and everything she had eaten that morning. Then she and another lady talked about nutrition bars and spraying bread with olive oil, because you should have a little bit of oil every day. It all sounded gross. Being a captive audience and having to listen to it all made me want to commit some crimes, or at least go back to my old unsavory office.

These ladies just went on and on and on about this and that funky processed food. The chief culprit looked at the lunchtime salad on my desk like it was a big pile of something all together different. She made me sad. Not because she looked at my mixed greens with broccoli, beets and kidney beans like it was a huge turd, but because she's missing out on big love. Big love for food. Maybe if she wasn't so freaked out about what she eats, she could enjoy it more. Picking out nice produce and putting it together is fun. It makes me happy after a crazy day, and thus I give you the recipe for my dinner tonight:

Thai Red Curry with Sweet Potato, Tofu & Spinach

Since it's now officially autumn, this has become a favorite. I always love sweet potatoes, but never more so than in the fall, baked plain or mashed, all warm and mushy and sweet. This one is snazzy with the red curry and super healthy with the tofu and veg.

The goods:

1 tbsp. vegetable oil
1 diced onion
I cup low-salt vegetable broth
1 13.5 oz. can light coconut milk
2 tbsp. fish sauce
1 (heaping!) tbsp. Thai red curry paste
1 sweet potato, peeled and diced
14 oz. firm tofu cut into 1 in. cubes
1 bag of pre-washed spinach (yeah, yeah, I don't like processed foods, but I like my bagged spinach)

Start a pot of rice before you start your prep work.

Heat the oil in a big saute pan over medium heat and cook the onion until tender. Add the broth, coconut milk and fish sauce and bring to a simmer. Add the curry paste and stir until it dissolves. Add the sweet potato and simmer for about 10 minutes or until almost tender. Add the tofu and heat through, about 3-4 minutes. Add spinach by the handful, cooking until it's just wilted.

Serve over rice.

Happy eating!

Business Is My Trouble

2008-10-07T11:58:00.000-07:00

Ugh.

Now it's just plain creepy, the two mystery notes from May and September.

The first one, charming; the second one, weird; the latest, just plain creepy.

This morning, a friend was on her way to the ladies room when she noticed a photo taped to the outside of my office door. A cut out, overexposed photo of me at the office Xmas party last December. Taped to my door sometime after I got in this morning, with me sitting at my desk.

All joking aside, that's f-ing weird.

I had to make a report to campus police. They were very nice about it all but said that really, there was no crime committed. I asked them, "can't you charge someone with being a weirdo?"

Luckily, it may at least get me a different office.

Away from the freaky lady in the adjoining office that has cut out photos pasted around her desk!!

I finally started to suspect her after this last note, with its... ahem... "elderly" sentiment. I mean, really, who would do such a thing? While the first note was fun, there really is nobody here that is eligible for secret admirer status. This neighbor of mine? Very socially awkward, very peculiar, never talks to me, but sits behind me staring at the back of my head all day. Stares at her shoes when she sees me coming down the hall. But, gets very excited when she sees me on public television!

This morning when I had to run down the hall to the office safety coordinator, another woman, A., sitting nearby, pointed out that this office mate of mine had a cut out photo of her pasted on her filing cabinet. And A. never talks to this oddball.

I figured that when I showed this lady all of these things and told her that I filed a report with security that she'd come clean. Nothing.

Hopefully the jig is up, and this case will be closed.

I Lurv Sarah Silverman

2008-09-29T22:04:00.000-07:00

The Great Schlep from The Great Schlep on Vimeo.

Trouble Is My Business

2008-09-24T08:47:00.000-07:00

RE: The Case of the Furtive Fancier

I've done some street work and some records investigation, but still have no answer to my workplace mystery. Calling on my network of informants in the Chairman's Suite, I was able to somewhat narrow the list of possible suspects.

Forensic evidence:

Much like the first note, yesterday's note smelled like paper. Handwriting experts were split on the nature of the script on the envelope. While Detective Parada felt it was a feminine hand, Detectives Chu, Gardiner and Sumisu all thought the writing was distinctly male. Sumisu also noted that the writing looked carefully disguised by peculiar strokes and slants.

The flower appeared to be cut from card stock (a greeting card?) and affixed to the standard, white, 8 1/2 x 11, printer paper with opaque Scotch tape. The paper seems to have been hastily rolled with 3 horizontal creases total. Detective Chu also pointed out that one corner of the paper was crushed in the first fold from the bottom. A rush job?

The person handling mail on the first floor was unable to identify the envelope's handwriting, but noted, "ooh, creepy" upon seeing the 2 anonymous pieces of mail.

Psychological profile:

Detective Sumisu and I agreed that the sentiment in yesterday's note felt particularly "grampy," leading us to believe that the perpetrator is an older gentleman. Given the concurring opinions of the other detectives on the case, this is our best lead.

The only thing to do now is sit back and wait.

I'm on a stakeout.

Feel free to send coffee, doughnuts and any leads you may have.

Office Intrigue, Part Deux!

2008-09-23T08:49:00.000-07:00

Day one back in my office and what to my wondering eyes should appear?

Another mystery note!!

You may recall that on Friday, May 2, 2008 that I, P., received a mystery note via the inter-department mail system. No message, no name, my name and mailbox typewritten on the envelope. A single unclaimed act.

Well, ladies and gentleman of the jury, the case remained cold for all of those months. An entire summer went by without a peep.

Until now.

I type here before you today with a brand... new... anonymous note!

In this instance we have now a typewritten message, "A Rose for a Rose!" centered above a cut out picture of a rose which has been scotch taped to the 8 1/2 by 11 paper and my name and mailbox handwritten in block capital letters on the envelope. Can we assume that this is the sender's handwriting? Circumstantial evidence at best. Male or female? Indeterminate to my eyes:

I interviewed my only witness, my office mate Margarite, who recalled that the envelope arrived in my box "gee... some time last week."

I've sealed the envelope and note for evidence and shall continue the investigation with the rest of the staff.

More later.

Rx for Judicial Woe?

2008-09-22T23:37:00.000-07:00

So the saga continues.

And today, it gave me such a headache.

Much more than that, or at the root of that, I felt that anomie was the word of the day:

Anomie, in contemporary English language is a sociological term that signifies in individuals, an erosion, diminution or absence of personal norms, standards or values, and increased states of psychological normlessness. When applied to a government or society, anomie implies a social unrest.

Emile Durkheim described anomie as a state of relative normlessness or a state in which norms have been eroded. A norm is an expectation of how people will behave, and it takes the form of a rule that is socially rather than formally enforced. Thus, in structural functionalist theory, the effect of normlessness whether at a personal or societal level, is to introduce alienation, isolation, and desocialisation, i.e. as norms become less binding for individuals. Individuals thus lose the sense of what is right and wrong.

Instead of feeling these very hollow feelings, maybe next time I should just show up for jury selection wearing lipstick all over my face or a trash bag dress and tissue boxes for shoes.

But I'm stuck with it for now and haven't been able to shake the resulting funk today. So I worked out extra hard at the gym and read Internet news until I felt like my eyeballs would fall out when I got home. Not so much better. I'd just go to bed early. Ok, good idea. I'll fold my wash first and listen to my trusty iPod on shuffle.

Then everything got better.

You know why?

Whodini that's why!!

Who could listen to "I'm a Ho" with a straight face? It's one of the world's most ridiculous songs, and it worked just like a tonic:

Sigh

2008-09-20T08:03:00.000-07:00

This thing that I've been doing all month that is taking over my life and that I cannot discuss and that I may or may not have alluded to in another post? It's just like this, only there are no windows:

Do I feel like Henry Fonda? Or Lee J. Cobb?

P.S. Henry Fonda could never get that knife past the security at the Hall of Justice. I had to surrender my tiny, baby, Swiss Army keychain! I might poke someone with the plastic toothpick! Or pluck their eyebrows with the tiny tweezers! Or file their nails! Or cut all the tags off their clothes with the teeny, tiny, baby scissors!

Tokyo Monkey Fugitive Update

2008-09-09T07:00:00.000-07:00

ROGUE MONKEY IS LEADING TOKYO POLICE OFFICERS ON A NOT-SO-MERRY CHASE

Japan's most-wanted fugitive has been eluding police for nearly a month. He slips urban dragnets. He runs through crowded train stations, shocking commuters. He even urinates in public.

That may not be too surprising — since the culprit is a wild monkey. The cheeky, red-faced primate has been giving Tokyo authorities a headache since it showed up on city streets a few weeks ago. "This monkey is driving us crazy," said Tadayoshi Toyama, a police official in the Kanda district, where the monkey was seen about a week ago. "It's so agile, and we only have nets."

The Japanese macaque first leapt to the national stage in August. It showed up in Shibuya Station and gazed down at the crowd from atop a train schedule board before deftly escaping dozens of police and dashing to a park.

Since then, the monkey — which some authorities suspect hitched a train ride from nearby mountains into the city — has been sighted repeatedly. But the animal always manages to slip away before police can catch it.

The monkey has not hurt anyone so far, and Tokyoites have been delighted rather than alarmed by its appearances. But for the police, chasing the monkey has been time-consuming work.

Each sighting forces police to rush to the scene. Officers had to mobilize 10 times during the past week alone, but without success.

Last Monday, the monkey was seen sitting in front of a fruit shop staring at the bananas but was apparently shooed away before snatching its breakfast, Toyama said.

It was later spotted outside a nearby restaurant, then on a power line, looking down at the police officers who arrived at the scene after someone called in.

"Then the monkey urinated to the ground," Toyama said. "What a troublemaker. We have to catch him as soon as possible."

The monkey has not injured anyone or taken store merchandise.

More Sneak Previews

2008-09-08T07:00:00.000-07:00

This one, not a political comedy but... a rural thriller?

This is what happens when you have insomnia and nothing fun to read -- I'm still trying to get through What is the What? which is not exactly light entertainment -- so I trolled Youtube until the wee hours. You know, doing important things, like looking for the episode of the Andy Griffith Show when Aunt Bee serves on a jury and saves Jack Nicholson.

Exhausted but not sleepy at 1am, this trailer was great:

Burglar Wakes Men with Spice Rub

2008-09-07T18:20:00.000-07:00

Sunday, September 7, 2008

(09-07) 16:36 PDT Fresno, Calif. (AP) --

Authorities say they've arrested a man who broke into the home of two California farmworkers, stole money, rubbed one with spices and whacked the other with a sausage before fleeing.

Fresno County sheriff's Lt. Ian Burrimond says 22-year-old Antonio Vasquez was found hiding in a field wearing only a T-shirt, boxers and socks after the Saturday morning attack.

He says deputies arrested Vasquez after finding a wallet containing his ID in the ransacked house.

The farmworkers told deputies the suspect woke them Saturday morning by rubbing spices on one of them and smacking the other with an 8-inch sausage.

Burrimond says money allegedly stolen was recovered. The sausage was tossed away by the fleeing suspect and eaten by a dog.

Coming Soon to a Theater near You?

2008-09-05T07:00:00.000-07:00

The posts may fall off for a while as I am otherwise engaged -- I'm sure there will be plenty afterward -- but in the meantime, check out this hilarious movie plot line from Maureen Dowd. Since McCain announced his VP choice, I keep thinking I'll wake up from this goofy, goofy dream... Is this what Dr. Brown felt like in Back to the Future when Marty McFly tells him that Ronald Reagan is president in 1985?

xo,

P

P.S. While I was searching for a picture that I had seen of Sarah Palin and her bear rug, I found this very interesting website from some constituents in her home state.

Like Manna From Heaven...

2008-09-01T21:13:00.000-07:00

And I'm not even talking about It's-Its this time.

I go away for a few days, and just look at what's happened:

And not only the hilarious pics in the link above, or the hilarious commentary from McCain's own team, but now this.

Yippee!

Can we just have the election right now?!

A San Francisco Experience, Since 1928

2008-08-28T13:01:00.000-07:00

I just came back from the market.

Standing in line, starving for lunch. Social skills, nil.

A couple and their small children in summer gear troop into the little store. The man calls back to the woman, "I wanna get an It's-It!" The woman, standing very close to me, yells back, "What's an It's-It?"

I stare blankly at the woman and offer my unsolicited, deadpan observation:

"You're not from here."

I walk away and pay for my things.

"What, honey? The lady says I'm not from here!"

Now fully sated, I still have nothing to say.

That poor lady. I hope that man got his It's-It.

I like the cappuccino flavor. And the mint. And have fantasized for many years about working in the factory. You can see it from 101 in Burlingame. Driving by it as a kid in the backseat of the trusty blue Mercury Monarch, I would daydream about what went on in there. In a giant ice cream treat factory.

Allegedly, my friend Maz had a cousin that worked there.

My god, the possibilities...

I love you, It's-It!

On Being Busy and the End of My Beloved Summer

2008-08-28T07:00:00.000-07:00

Z-z-z-z-z-z...

Dear Readers,

I am pooped. Done.

But I haven't forgotten. I talked to one of you yesterday--yes, one of you five--and was scolded for holding out on the posts.

It was a long, not-hot summer.

I wore my pea coat in the middle of July. I read lots of boring statutes and cases, and wrote legal memos. At night. For fun. I ran* a half marathon. I crushed the competition in the big cookie contest. I shopped for shoes a lot. I returned shoes a lot. I put band-aids on all of my new blisters from all of my would-be new shoes. I killed my blender during a month long smoothie making rampage, which was over before I could find time to write about it due to the death of the indispensable blender. I started teaching again. I remembered why I love teaching. I remembered why I occasionally don't love teaching. I was on TV. Twice!

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times; it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness; it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity; it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness; it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair; we had everything before us, we had nothing before us; we were all going directly to Heaven, we were all going the other way." -- Charles Dickens

And now it's OVER! Summer is so god damned over!

* Ok, I walked a lot, too.

** Thanks to Jorge for the Calvin & Hobbes!

I Wish My Morning Commute Were So Fun...

2008-08-20T07:00:00.000-07:00

... I only get wild construction workers.

MONKEY ELUDES DRAGNET AT TOKYO TRAIN STATION

By JAY ALABASTER, Associated Press Writer

Wednesday, August 20, 2008

(08-20) 06:18 PDT TOKYO, Japan (AP) --

Morning train commuters in Tokyo were joined on their way to work by an unusual companion Wednesday: a wild monkey.

A security guard spotted the monkey near ticket gates in Shibuya Station, said Norihiru Masui, a spokesman for train operator Tokyu Corp.

The monkey climbed to a perch high atop a departure board, and around 30 policemen surrounded the area and attempted to snare it with a variety of nets, as commuters crowded around and snapped pictures with their cell phones.

The standoff ended when the monkey climbed down and dashed out of the station, with several policeman and local TV crews in tow. News reports said the monkey was last seen heading in the direction of nearby Yoyogi Park.

The animal appeared to be a Japanese monkey, which are native to the country, and was about 27 inches (70 centimeters) long from head to the tip of the tail. No one was injured and no trains were delayed in the incident.

Japanese media have reported several monkey sightings in Tokyo recently, but it was unclear if they involved the same animal.

Monkeys have long made appearances in rural parts of Japan, where they have been known to damage crops, swipe food from grocery stalls and even bite humans. In recent years, growth in the monkey population has meant more frequent forays out of the forests and into farms and towns.

BBC: "Great Tits Cope Well With Warming"

2008-08-17T22:40:00.000-07:00

Hmm... good to know that some things are safe from global warming.

This BBC News article caught my attention for obvious reasons.

Non-voter Tip Sheet

2008-08-13T12:41:00.000-07:00

During the primary season, I wrote a disdainful post about voting apathy. While I was originally reaching out for a remedy for uninspired citizens, Sumisu sent me this video with advice for covering up a complete and utter indifference for politics and the way it shapes your life:

Houston, We Have Liftoff!

2008-08-08T07:00:00.000-07:00

Phew! The old PEU is back in action after getting a brand new hard drive...

And I don't want to talk about it.

Although victorious, I'm pooped. And frantic! Many, many projects due at once. Many, many social engagements scheduled at once. Many, many naps to be taken once it's all done.

For now, a lazy man video post will have to suffice.

I'm still on the King Missile kick, and was listening to "My Heart Is a Flower" today, and now I'm going to make you listen to it, too.

While the Computer Gets Fixed, Watch This

2008-07-30T07:00:00.000-07:00

Viva American International Pictures! Woe for Ray Milland!

The Thing With Two Heads (1972): Unbelievable. Really, I'm stunned. Fascinated. Though I doubt I could ever have the bad movie stamina to sit through the whole thing, I've watched this video quite a few times. If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I would never have thought this movie could actually have been made.

We Are Currently Experiencing Technical Difficulties - Please Stand By

2008-07-27T20:32:00.000-07:00

My brand spanking new MacBook fell into a coma this weekend.

Cranky writer + broken computer = no new posts for a while.

Kvetching Choir -- Who Knew?

2008-07-25T07:50:00.000-07:00

Madame N* sent me today's video, the Complaints Choir of Chicago. Apparently, they've sprung up all over the world: Singapore, Germany, Finland, and England, to name a few. I'd love to join one today, get all of my kvetching out in one concentrated burst, have a release, and move on. Much more appropriate than reproducing the scene from "Network" in Wednesday's video.

* Madame N: can I trade in my trademark Catholic guilt for the kvetching birthright of the chosen people? Oy vey!

By the way, I can hear my roommate chewing...

That's Exactly It

2008-07-23T09:49:00.000-07:00

The Love Biz, with Ben Stein

2008-07-18T07:00:00.000-07:00

I really liked this article by Ben Stein from last Sunday's NY Times. In it, Stein compares affairs of the heart to the commonly held principles of economics. To put it another way, and to quote the Beatles and Abbey Road, "And in the end, the love you take / Is equal to the love you make."

Not that you should run around making it all over town, the author warns. You've got to steer clear of junk bonds, because they don't produce much in the way of returns. Some stocks may be very attractive on the surface but are really not a wise choice. Once you find you've made a poor investment, sell immediately. You want to look for quality investments. Good investments are not always immediately available, but be patient. Once you find a good investment, stick with it.

Get it?

I had to make a copy of this for the lovelorn financial person in my office, STAT!

* The photo above is a potato mutation posted on Wikipedia by someone in Germany. Mmm... potatoes...

Book Review / Apartment Angst

2008-07-16T07:00:00.000-07:00

Last weekend, I finished reading Doris Kearns Goodwin's memoir, "Wait Till Next Year" and liked it so much, I thought I'd write a post about it. Then, once I actually took a moment to think about what I'd say, I changed my mind again. What would I say, except for "mmm... me likey?"

On second thought, I'd keep it to myself.

Later that same Sunday, I had work to do at home--laundry and long-winded legal readings--absolutely nothing fun. Also lurking around the apartment was my roommate.

Big sigh.

This apartment ain't big enough for the two of us.

Whenever the two of us have too many of the same days off at home, I get itchy. Itchy for apartment listings. Itchy to live alone. Dreaming of being able to have the run of the place - mine, mine, all mine. For the record, I can do the wacky song and dance (minus Bob Seeger, I really don't care for Bob Seeger) at home as is, I would just prefer a more appreciative audience, or preferably a dance partner/muse. While I bide my time until I meet a fancy dancer, I'd rather live solo.

More than one married friend* has told me that their time in a studio or one bedroom was the happiest time in their lives, and I wouldn't want to miss out on this happiness.

* I haven't named names in case one of their kids grows up and reads this, given it's still somewhere on the Internets.

I spent an hour or so looking at craigslist, starting as I always do, in my own neighborhood, which I am truly, madly, deeply in love with. It's central, on a major streetcar line, by all fun things, with nice neighbors and good markets. As you can see from previous posts, my regular market plays a big part in my every day life. It's kind of my own version of Cheers. Unfortunately, I think you'd need to be independently wealthy in order to live roommate-less here.

And so I inch further and further away in the listings, all the way out to the ocean, where I have a decent chance at an affordable place all to myself in the damp and fog and maybe, sand fleas. I started feeling pretty cocky about it, imagining new jogging routes and what cafes are nearby, where would be my new hang out, et cetera, et cetera.

Then I remembered the book and how much I loved the descriptions of her hometown, Rockville Centre, NY, and the cast of characters there: all of the neighbors, and Joe and Max the butchers, Doc Schimmenti the druggist, the husband and wife that ran the delicatessen, Old Mary the creepy lady on the corner, and on and on. Her stories were so vivid and charming that I wanted badly to live there myself.

But maybe I already do a little bit. The people at the coffee shop already know what I want when I get there, my hairdresser blows kisses when I pass by, the cashier at the market looks after my produce and the owner unknowingly creates 99 cent culinary challenges for me.

I have friends that live down the street just like in the book. Neighbors that yell out the window to me. A team that never wins.

Yes, the book is mostly a personal memoir, but also a history of baseball and the author's love affair with the Brooklyn Dodgers of the '40s and '50s. If I can't do more to describe to you why it was so enjoyable, at least I can give you a seasonal sell. Like eating tomatoes and peaches in summer, I like to read stories in season. Maybe it would be even better for you to wait until closer to the playoffs, which was always heartbreak time for the young Doris Kearns.

I'll ruin the ending for you though:

The Dodgers move to L.A.

Joyeux Jour de la Bastille!

2008-07-14T07:00:00.000-07:00

Hooray! I'm going out to celebrate, for la belle France and for my recent reader poll. It's scientific evidence: 72% of you think a lady in glasses is hot stuff. Hopefully my specs won't be steamed up only by tarte tatin tonight!

Staycation Fantasy Island

2008-07-11T07:00:00.001-07:00

I wonder how the airfares are?

A National Treasure, My Fantasy Boyfriend, and Hot Dog Eating Champion of the World: Joey Chestnut

2008-07-09T07:00:00.001-07:00

People often ask me how it is that I'm single. I rarely tell them the real answer. Until now.

It's because I have yet to meet Joey Chestnut.

You might have heard of Mr. Chestnut, since he's a national treasure and all and being the king of competitive eaters. He is now also the two time champion of the Nathan's Hot Dog Eating Contest held yearly in Coney Island on the Fourth of July.

Yes, he is all of these things and my dreamboat, too. Isn't he cute?? By the way, for the hardened cynics among my readership, I'm not kidding! I think he's adorable. I like his dimples, and he even has cute teeth. It all makes for a very nice smile.

Think of it... He's local, I'm local. I'm fiercely competitive about cooking, he's fiercely competitive about eating. What more could you ask for? Readers, do me a favor if you've got any connections, and make me the happiest woman in the world. I think I love him more than hot dogs, and I really like hot dogs. I had this conversation at several barbecues over this past holiday weekend, that I often think to go vegetarian and would really like to, but I can't resist hot dogs. And I can't resist Joey either!

Reader Poll: Four Eyes = Sexy?

2008-07-07T07:00:00.000-07:00

For the great majority of my life, I've needed to wear glasses for nearsightedness. Way back in the fourth grade I had to get a pair, and while I was a little disappointed, part of me took a secret pride in my new mature and intellectual air, enough so to request a rosy tint to fancy up my new specs.

(dramatic pause)

When I got home with them though, my father delighted in telling me that men don't make passes at girls who wear glasses while my siblings chimed in in snarky agreement. What did he know? He was an old fart from the stone age. Well, it seemed he knew something, because when I walked into class the next day, Hetzel Carrera dubbed me "professor lady." Professor lady? Ugh. That's no good. That's Miss Jane Hathawa y.

Cue a montage of every ridiculous sitcom and movie set-up in which a homely wallflower blossoms before our very eyes, by the single act of removing her thick, dowdy frames. Gasp... now she's beautiful!

And so it was that I went for the next 5 years or so, squinting and/or not taking notes at school and inadvertently snubbing friends on the street, shunning my ever thickening glasses until I could score a pair of contacts. When I did get them, it was lovely - I could see and maintain my cool at the same time.

All this was fine until the rare occassion during the cleaning and storage of my beloved rigid gas permeable lenses that one of my contacts would fly out of my eye and down the drain or the heating vent or the nearby toilet. For a couple of days, or even a week or so, I would have to walk around with whatever outdated coke bottles I had to wear for reading in bed until my new lens arrived. Ashamed. Tail between legs. Bookish, a date remarked.

During one of the last of these episodes, I vowed to quash my shame and find a decent pair of frames that I could wear in public with my head held high. It took some searching, but I finally saw a pair that I fancied and decided that during my next trip to the optometrist I'd go for them. Around this same time, I'd changed jobs and was fine-tuning my professional image. While it was warm and welcoming to be cute and cuddly in the classroom, in the office I strove to cultivate a more serious persona.

Yep.

Glasses.

The fourth grade me wanted nothing to do with Professor Lady, but the current me is reaping the rewards. I swear: it's the glasses! In professional situations, I feel much more gravity. In flirty situations, I have a whole new audience, perhaps a heretofore untapped audience. I wondered about these things to myself until last week when I learned about this story that my sister-in-law had overheard between two men in her office talking about a coworker and lamenting her recent lasik surgery:

"Damn! She was all hot when she had glasses."

"Yeah. Sexy secretary. Now she's just regular."

"Not hot anymore."

?!?!?!?!

Glasses can be hot?

Sexy librarian?!

Where have these stereotypes been hiding all my life?

In my research, I found this article, but little else. Can glasses actually enhance a person's sex appeal? Let's get scientific! Please paticipate in the reader poll in the upper right corner of this page so that we can get to the bottom of this.

Pootie Tang's Hit Single

2008-07-04T07:00:00.000-07:00

Blogging Malaise and a Recipe to Boot

2008-07-02T13:00:00.000-07:00

Listening to the Al Green rendition of "How Can You Mend a Broken Heart" and wondering how you can mend a broken blog...

Back in May, in what I now consider PEU's charming salad days, I didn't think a thing to stay up past midnight writing about the day's adventures. Now, after 2 plus months of sleep deprivation, I'm wondering how people do this thoughtfully while still working, socializing and bathing regularly. It really is difficult to balance the blog fodder with the actual writing of it (see photo below).

After having sat in front of a computer all day in my Fortress of Solitude, it's a hard sell to want to come home and sit down to write in earnest. For the last few weeks even, I've come to shudder when I see any type of glowing screen. And this from an Internet junkie.

Clearly, I need to refocus: do more socializing and general goofing off away from my desk from 8-5 and do a condensed outpouring into the blog for a set amount of time in the off hours in order to keep the work/life/computer balance in proper check. Sound good, readers?

Readers?

Are you still there?

Are you paying attention?

No, this is not another YouTube video post.

Sheesh!

Ok, to rope you back in, I'll do a recipe. How's that?

In observance of the July fourth holiday weekend, I submit to you the following:

Orzo Salad with Roasted Vegetables

This recipe is originally adapted from The Open House Cookbook, by Sarah Leah Chase, via Ina Garten. I've brought it to two parties so far, and each time, it's been well loved. But you may not want it to be too, too loved, because the leftovers are so, so good! The flavors get to sit together in the fridge and are very nice served cold for lunch.

For the salad:

1 small eggplant, peeled and diced, 3/4 inch
1 red bell pepper, 1 inch diced
1 yellow bell pepper, 1 inch diced
1 red onion, peeled and diced, 1 inch
2 cloves garlic, minced
1/3 cup olive oil
1 1/2 tsp. kosher salt
1/2 tsp. fresh ground black pepper
1/2 lb. orzo pasta

For the dressing:

1/3 cup lemon juice
1/3 cup olive oil
1 tsp. kosher salt
1/2 tsp. fresh ground black pepper

The piece de resistance:

4 scallions, white and green bits minced
1/4 cup toasted pine nuts
1/2 - 3/4 lb. feta, 1/2 inch diced (don't crumble it!)
15 fresh basil leaves, cut into julienne

Preheat oven to 425 degrees. Toss eggplant, peppers, onion, and garlic with the olive oil, salt, and pepper on a large baking sheet. Roast for 40 minutes, turning once halfway through with a spatula, until browned.

While the veg cook, boil the orzo in salted water according to the box. Drain and put into a large serving bowl along with the roasted veg, scraping all of the liquid and seasonings from the roasting pan into the pasta.

Combine the dressing ingredients and add to the pasta and vegetables. Let it cool to room temperature, and before serving, add the scallions, pine nuts, feta, and basil.

Serve at room temperature.

Bon appetit!

Sketch for Summer

2008-06-30T07:00:00.000-07:00

Hey, summer? Where did you go?

I thought you were here just a while ago...

Iron Baker CHALLENGE!!

2008-06-27T12:35:00.000-07:00

Dear readers:

As one of eight siblings, I believe that competition comes very naturally to me, as survival of the fittest is naturally instilled in such an environment. You've got to outperform, outlast, and outmaneuver to get any sort of individual recognition, let alone limelight. Though I'm getting on in years, this trait has not dimmed in the least. Nay, I think it has intensified. Clearly.

Yesterday, I participated in an intra-department cookie baking challenge. While other participants casually tossed around ideas from their mamas and the back of chocolate chip packages in the weeks leading up to the competition, I went into high gear. For the last month, I have been testing recipes on office mates and grabbing strangers walking out of the big bosses suite to grill them on the cookie that they had just put in their mouths:

"Hey! Ooooh! How do you like that cookie?"

"Mmnph?"

"That cookie. I made it! How do you like it?"

"Mmmnam?"

"I mean... say you were going to eat that cookie... in a cookie contest... would you like it?"

"Would it stand out?"

"Take another bite. Tell me what you think."

"Really. I'm serious."

And so on.

I caught one woman walking down the stairwell with a cookie in each hand and beautiful, savory, sweet, crispy, light, flaky crumbs flying from her lips when I accosted and grilled her.

Well, she agreed and damn it, I won!

Woot woot!

I am the champion!!

The secret ingredient?

Love.

And bloodlust!

Instant Happiness: Press Play

2008-06-25T07:00:00.000-07:00

At the Movies: The Taste of Tea

2008-06-23T22:20:00.000-07:00

I had originally added this movie to my Netflix queue for mostly prurient reasons: it's got Tadanobu Asano, one of my cinematic honey buns. For more than the eye candy though, it turned out to be a real treat, so sweet and nutty that I don't want to send it back yet. I seriously found myself wondering if I should up my deal to 2 discs at a time just to keep it for a while in case I need to watch it again because it made me so happy. There are certain movies that I can have on in the background at home that make me cheery, and I think this is one of them.

The story is a slice of life from a Japanese family in the countryside north of Tokyo, and the scenery is beautiful (seeing it, I got su-u-per natsukashii--nostalgic feeling--for late spring and summer in Japan). If anything about this movie, it's got the pretty working for it. Then, the lovable characters: mom, dad, a teenage boy in the middle of puberty and love, the little girl with the unusual sidekick, 2 uncles (one hot, one with bowl haircut), and kooky, multi-talented grandpa. Mostly they go about their everyday lives, but totally absurd things happen to them that I won't go into and spoil for you if you're of a mind to see it. Just take a gander at the trailer I've posted below:

It may not be for all of you, dear readers, as it is Quirky (purposefully capitalized) and slowly paced. But if you're a fan of Japan or the surreal, I very much recommend it: a very funny, very pretty and poignant movie. (^-^)

Today's Furniture in the News

2008-06-20T13:01:00.000-07:00

Police say a New York man cut a hole in a woman's couch and hid in the carved-out space until she came home. Newburgh police said the woman sat on the couch Wednesday evening and felt a bump in the cushions move.

She jumped up and David Joe Limones emerged from his hiding place, knocking a cell phone out of her hand.

The woman was on the phone with a friend when she entered her apartment because she had filed an earlier complaint against Limones and was worried he might be there. Police said she had asked the friend to stay on the line and call police if something went wrong.

When officers arrived, they found Limones and the 22-year-old woman arguing on the apartment's balcony.

Limones, 27, faces burglary and other charges. He is being held on $20,000 bail.

County officials, including those at the public defenders office and the sheriff's department, were unable to provide the name of Limones' lawyer.

Mission Accomplished

2008-06-19T23:07:00.000-07:00

The Return of the 99 Cent Produce

2008-06-18T22:01:00.000-07:00

It's happened again.

You'd think I'd know better than to go to the corner market before closing, but again I found myself in the checkout line zeroing in on the must-go produce.

This time, my own version of crack cocaine, summer fruit. Big bags of ripe apricots. 99 cents. Mine, all mine.
My precious.

I reach over and plop a bag down next to the wedge of Parmesan I'd run out to get.

The owner says, "Oh, no dear. Those aren't good for eating."

"Oh, I think I'm going to make tarts."

Lie. I have no f-ing idea what I'm going to do with a huge bag of overripe fruit, except eat it all. For 99 cents.

"Here, you take the two for price of one."

Ooh! Ooh! Smelling salts! Have I died and gone to heaven?

"Make jam. Take them home, cut them up, boil them with sugar."

I need to go to bed in half an hour.

I have plans tomorrow night.

Sometime between my lunch hour and whatever time I get in and bedtime tomorrow, all of these apricots have got to become jam, or they'll go bad.

It's a race against time. Man against nature.

I don't even have jars for canning.

What have I done?

The Illicit Midweek Dinner Party

2008-06-16T22:46:00.000-07:00

If you have been reading regularly, you may have gathered that I'm a bit of a square about some things. I like to vote, listen to the radio, shop sensibly, fantasize about office dance parties, get excited for mail with no return address, and have the hots for early 70's Tony Orlando. I even floss.

What else floats my boat?

Midweek dinner parties!

Having just made the great leap from working odd hours nearly every night of the week to a regular 8-5, I now have the luxury of free evenings during the week and am crazy for it. I want to jam everything possible into those precious hours between quittin' time and dreamland, and I often do, just because I can. The #1 novelty right now is a get together during the work week. That's right, Monday to Thursday. A school night. The first one happened a few months ago: a 6 o'clock cocktail party with wine and hors d'oeurves, followed by a trip to a neighborhood restaurant for dinner, and I'm still reeling with the feeling.

Now I've upped the ante to actual meals.

The best thing for this? Pasta e fagioli, pasta and beans, the easiest recipe in the world and a total party pleaser. My current version comes from this book, a great thing to have around for a post-work quickie.

Meal.

I told you I'm a square.

The goods:

8 ounces medium pasta shells or cup shape (I like penne)
1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
3 cloves of garlic, minced
1 large sprig of fresh rosemary, chopped well
Pinch of red pepper flakes
1/2 cup chopped tomatoes, fresh or canned
2 15-ounce cans of cannellini beans (about 1/2 cup of liquid reserved)
Salt and fresh ground black pepper

Boil your pasta, drain, and reserve about 2 cups of the water.

While the pasta is going, put the oil in a big saute pan over low heat. Add the garlic, rosemary and red pepper flakes, and cook for about a minute, until the garlic is golden. Add the tomatoes and simmer for about 5 minutes.

Add the beans and a little of the liquid and simmer for 5-8 minutes, stirring and mushing about half of the beans with the back of a wooden spoon. Add salt and pepper to taste.

Add the pasta to the pan and enough of the pasta water to the dish to make it as soupy as you like. Bring it all to a simmer, then remove from the heat and cover. After it sits for 5 minutes, serve it in bowls with some parmesan or a little drizzle of olive oil and more pepper flakes.

Ooh, while the pasta and beans sit covered, make a green salad and open a bottle of wine.

And for dessert, cut up some fruit and, if you're extra fancy, make some whipped cream.

Maybe if you're lucky, a friend will come over with homemade ice cream, like mine did.

Tutti a tavola a mangiare!

Viva King Missile

2008-06-15T07:00:00.000-07:00

Because 18 years later, the album Mystic Shit still cracks me up. I was noodling around with my iPod yesterday and found "My Heart is a Flower," then needed to hear all the rest, including "I am a Sensitive Artist" below: