Sister’s fiance (let’s call him Carpenter, since that’s what he was for a long time) dry heaves whenever anyone mentions vomit or poop. Just saying the words will send a visible shiver down his spine. It’s pretty priceless. Carpenter can be a pretty tough guy, but then he’s also allergic to a ton of stuff (like tomatoes), and has a ton of old injuries that make him wince whenever he stands up, sits down, jogs, coughs, etc. He’s like an old man at mid-thirty. Sister used to run cross-country, so her knees are shot, and her finger knuckles are all permanently swollen from cracking them all the time and jamming them while playing basket ball. The two of them. Fallin’ apart.
Still, in a pinch, they’re both totally on my zombie apocalypse survival team for their self discipline, intelligence, and short-term physical abilities. Regardless of their rapidly deteriorating bodies, they’re very coordinated and physically capable people. I figure by the time their joints fail us, we’ll have already set up an impenetrable base of operations, been airlifted to safety, or eaten alive. But they’re both pretty bossy. That would be a lot of people trying to pull rank on each other. Hmmm… I’ll have to give that some thought.
Speaking of body parts going bad, I was at kung fu last night and while I was doing a sweep, my left shoulder slipped almost out of its socket. I felt it start to go, heard a click and relaxed my body to take pressure off of it so it would go back in. It’ll hurt for about a week, it isn’t the first time this has happened. I need to start doing some exercises to strengthen both my shoulders. They click when I sleep on my sides. Bleh.
Just made an appointment to test drive a Fiat 500 tomorrow afternoon after Office Job. They apparently have three models: Pop, Sport, and Lounge ($15,500, $17,500, and $19,500 respectively). The Pop is what I’m looking at because it’s cheaper, but they only have one automatic transmission Pop model at the location I’m doing my test drive. I might have to wait around, driving Dad’s old Exploder until more arrive. The guy said they sold three yesterday, “Boom! Gone!” but translated from car salesman speak, I’m guessing that means four test drives and one sale.
WAAAAAANT
If this Fiat doesn’t work out… I’m going to regret selling my Pontiac. It would have been so much more economical to keep it that I’m still panicking about selling it. But when I mentioned that to my friends last night, they all sang out at the same time, “Nope! That car always had problems, you made a good choice!” Maybe they were right.
Cost of Pontiac: $9k
Cost of Pontiac with upkeep: probably around $11k
Sold for $2,200
So I end up $8,800 in the hole. I had it for three years. That’s about three thousand dollars a year. Yikes. Not a very good investment. I should have hung onto it.
BUT NO! I found the front right headlamp had fallen out of it’s place, and was dangling from it’s wires over the front fender once, for no reason! And every time it rained the light would go out and I would have to take it to the shop to get replaced! And Dad had to manually install a switch to turn off the security feature that caused it to stop recognizing my key, and occasionally not start! And the snap-crackle-popping noises coming out of the rear speaker were so bad, I had stopped listening to music at all! And only half of the speakers worked! And every time I looked at the dented fender, it made me feel bad about myself for being a bad driver while sick! And the fuel pump broke within the first year just like my first Pontiac (not cheap), but this time I was on the freeway… in the fast lane… on my way to Medieval Times for a friend’s birthday party, which I ended up missing RAAAAAGH I’m still angry/sad about it! And the doors were really heavy because the coupe was too long, and I was never able to find the the rear center seat belt, and the middle seat was rock hard anyway, and there was a small crack on the windshield from a tiny pebble hitting it on freeway on the way back from Pomona, and it was such a dark green that it was hard to see in the dark and was unsafe and was sweltering hot in the summer, and the AC wasn’t great, and neither was the heater, and the front right blinker hasn’t worked in forever, and Dad had to duct tape part of the door bumper on (before I took it to the shop and they forcibly screwed it back on), and the volume control on the stereo didn’t always work, and when Carmax sold it to me and I had my mechanic have a look at it, he pointed out (among several other problems) one part under the hood that was being held on with twine! The brakes sucked (they made a horrible, deep whining sound when I had jam down on them), the pickup sucked (there was a full 1-2 second delay from when I hit the gas, and the car would speed up). And it was about to hit 100k miles, which means its value would have plummeted if I hadn’t sold it when I did (it was at 99,964).
Things I liked about my dark green Pontiac Grand Am GT:
-red light-up display
-thick steering wheel
-enormous trunk space
-can’t think of anything else.
UPDATE: March 15, 8:56pm
Did the test drive. Loved it. The ride is pretty smooth, there’s plenty of room for two people with some small dogs in the back seat, and groceries in the boot. Look at that. I’m calling it a boot. Because it looks like it was snatched off the very streets of London. It looks so much like one of those black cabs they have, it’s uncanny. Larger on the outside that I thought, which I like (safer). Cramped for head and legroom for anyone taller than me in the back, but fine in the front, so I don’t care. Loads of standard features that are actually attractive. USB hookup, remote lock, etc. Good shit.
Anyone who is at all familiar with me or my blog knows that I love English. As a language, it’s just awesome. It’s also difficult to learn as a foreign speaker (or a native speaker for that matter), however, and I have a few theories on specifically why that is.
1. English has a ton of single-syllable words.
When you’re trying to understand what someone is saying, every syllable is a new opportunity to do so. Each one is a puzzle piece. Some get discarded, others get mushed together until something recognizable starts to show up. I think this might be one reason why the romance languages are so pleasing to listen to: they use so many syllables to get to where they need to go. Then again, so does German, and that language sounds like a train being dropped onto a crowded freeway.
Back me up, Wikipedia! “English words of more than two syllables are likely to come from French, often with modified terminations.” English gives the audience so few chances to hear and understand each word, pattern recognition (understanding groups of sounds [phrases] rather than words, and anticipating meaning) and years of experience become necessary to become an accomplished speaker.
a google search for "sombrero fashion" does not disappoint
2. English has no single point of origin
English seems to be the mutt of languages. Heavily drawn from French and German, English must be a bitch to learn if you weren’t a native speaker. English vocabulary and rules of grammar don’t always have the same source. That’s crazy! That’s like speaking Spanish with Japanese rules of grammar (verb at the end, etc.). Or using your fashion sense to solve a math problem. Irrationally fabulous!
3. English class is never over
English has the largest vocabulary in the world, which is one reason why I love it so much. We have a word for just about everything! But as a direct result, even native speakers occasionally encounter words whose definitions escape them. If you didn’t go to college, you will not understand at least four words in an hour-long conversation with an intelligent college graduate (unless the topic is Jersey Shore or some such nonsense). And this doesn’t include the subtle differences between words like clock and watch (a watch is worn, a clock is mounted), shade and shadow (a shadow creates shade). Compare to Spanish sombrero. Sombra is shade, so sombrero literally means “shader.” SO SIMPLE.
4. English is a fucking quagmire
The rules only apply some of the time. Spelling is really really important, because three different words pronounced the same way can mean three different things when spelled differently (there, their, they’re). Use the phrase “in so far as much” in a sentence. Properly. Yikes.
he's pretty pissed
I wonder sometimes if I love English because it’s my native tongue, or because it’s such a challenging language and it gives me pride to know that I have, by and large, mastered it. Even native speakers acknowledge that English is a bitch to learn and consistently speak without butchering repeatedly. One of my favorite games, Kingdom of Loathing, won’t allow its players to chat without passing a basic English test… proctored by the ghost of the English language. When you pass, he tells you to “avenge his death.” Classic!
A 8.9 earthquake is really, really huge. The scale America uses is scary because the intensity of a quake is measured with exponential values. Meaning a 4.0 quake isn’t twice as intense as a 2.0 quake, it’s eight times more intense. Now look at the number again: 8.9. On a scale of 0-10. Scary. Plus, you’re a coastal country, so the tsunami that inevitably follows a quake of this magnitude only exacerbates the problem.
Japan is going to make it through this because the world needs their economy to get back on their feet, but also because the Japanese are an amazing group of people. Period. Who blogs about the amazing ideas Russia comes out with on a daily basis? No one, because Russia sucks. The Japanese have a repressed culture that somehow allows its people to think outside the box in ways the rest of the world marvels at. And for that, we love them.
In honor of how awesome Japan is, here’s a list of ten reasons why I love Japan, in the order they occurred to me:
1. Anime
Paprika made my brain melt
Who the fuck would think that there could be billions of tiny, diverse ghosties floating around that effect us (Mushi-Shi), or that dreams could be your next form of therapy (Paprika), or that a young girl could work in a bath house run for (and by) spirits (Spirited Away)? And who else would write a fully-realized, philosophically-driven, action packed science fiction series on the future of human-cyborg robotics (Ghost in the Shell) that actually makes sense? The Japanese direct my imagination in directions I would otherwise never explore. Thank you.
delicious
2. Sushi
I realize that raw fish has been a celebrated dish for (tens of?) thousands of years, but it was the Japanese who spread it across the globe for my pretentious Los Angeles palate to enjoy. It’s a simple pleasure that always makes me think, “Wow, the Japanese are geniuses. And bears. Bears who eat salmon all day and sleep all winter. Fucking genius.”
3. Cars
I’ve had two Pontiacs, and I’ve had trouble with them both. My roommate has had her Honda for over a decade, and she bought it used, and it’s still running just fine. Am I buying American again? No way. The Japanese know how to make a damn car.
adorable
4. Maru
The cutest, and most famous cat in the world lives in Japan. He has his own website, loads of YouTube videos, and millions of fans. His owner keeps us up to speed on his newest toys, favorite napping spots, and intense fear of crows. He’s the only life form (other than his owner) who I feel like I’ve kinda gotten to know over the past year, so his well-being was one of the first things that occurred to me when I heard about the earthquake and tsunami (sorry humans!). Turns out he’s safe, yay!
epic
5. Samurai, Ninjas, Martial Arts
Where do I begin? The samurai bushido “way of the warrior” will never be replicated en masse the way it was in feudal Japan. The intense philosophy that ran throughout every aspect of the samurai’s life from the way they fought to the way they ate and slept is just incredible.
Raise your hand if you never wanted to be a ninja. You, you, and you; you’re all liars. EVERYONE wants to be a ninja at some point. I just learned recently that ninjutsu is not a martial art, but an art of war. Yikes. Awesome.
I’ve been practicing martial arts since I was 14. I earned two black belts, and now I work at a dojo where I get to teach kids how to be polite, work hard, and beat the shit out of their siblings who are too stupid or unlucky enough not to be included in class. With all my experience, I can safely say that everyone on the planet would benefit from learning a martial art (especially a soft style like hapkido or aikido).
6. Nintendo
It’s not just some 8-pixel side-scroller. It’s a virtual world. My generation grew up with the gray-box Nintento, and Mario was as real a character as any idiot on reality TV today. Nintendo set the bar for video gaming. It started an entire sub-culture. With a video game. Cultural references to the original Mario Bros. will never end. There will always be a “Sorry, Princess is in another castle” joke for unforeseen failure. Coins will always be shiny, floaty thing we all yearn for. Stars will always look like a chance at temporary invincibility.
ruuuunnnn!!
7. Godzilla
Haha, oh my god. I can’t believe Godzilla is #7. Where was my brain. The Japanese took fear of giant monsters to the ultimate extreme. So classic. I still haven’t seen this movie, btw. Must remedy soon!
.
.
woah
8. Noh
If you don’t know anything about the theater of Edo era Japan, wake the fuck up. The makeup, the masks, the nuances, the costumes, the stories… amazing. Google it. It’s the oldest form of theater (even older than the famous Greek tragedies). Kabuki centered around drama, love and all that mushy crap. Kyogen was mostly comedies. The actors were huge celebrities. Some even had trading cards. It’s true! And one of my favorite comics is based on the masks worn during these iconic plays.
.
.
.
i will never understand it
9. Sumo
I wonder if this should go under martial arts… haha just kidding! Can you picture one of these guys rounding a corner in full battle gear? Hilarious! But seriously, there’s a ton of ceremony that goes into every match, which are fun to watch. Giant dudes pushing brutishly each other out of a small ring? While the referee holds a fan and wears traditional robes? And the attendees get crushed whenever one of the sumo guys tumbles off the platform? What a sport!
10. Takeshi’s Castle
This is a little-known series that aired in 1989 that started the wave of shows that put normal people through ridiculous obstacle courses for the world to laugh at. America has a show called Wipeout that does the same thing. Genius.
I want to write more about each of these but I’m at work, and no one wants to read that much about this stuff (including me). Suffice to say, the Japanese people have my adoration and respect. Now if they could just give a serious apology about invading Korea, and the whole “comfort women” thing, that’d be great.
UPDATE: March 15, 5:32pm
Wait! I thought of another reason to love Japan: the Polysics!
I mean people do fun, silly stuff people do in music videos. The Japanese are clearly no exception, and for that, I love them.
Note to self: wear a Guy Fawkes mask this November 5th. As much as I dislike his severely Catholic motivations, V for Vendetta was just… amazing. V was right: Symbols are important.
(ignore the comic. for the first time ever, the movie is better. yikes)
I’ve never actually given up on being a superhero (superheroine).
I’ve been reading comics since age… 8? I started with Archie, but soon blossomed into comics with fully violent characters who pranced around in sexually inappropriate S&M outfits in broad daylight, and saved the world from equally bizarrely-motivated and strangly dressed evil-doers in the process (I’m lookin’ at you, X-Men).
i would strike terror in the hearts of criminals with my adorable otter face
I was brainwashed by said sexy/violent comics from a very young age to believe that with the right timing, martial arts training and clever one-liners, I too could beat the shit out of criminals on a semi-nightly basis. Is it childish to believe I could still do this?
Here’s the biggest problem with fighting crime: you have to be there as it happens. How long does Batman spend crouched on rooftops night after night, watching nothing of note unfold on the streets below? I’m guessing hours and fucking hours. But with supervillains running around, there’s plenty of lawless extra-curricular activity to shut down.
So here’s my problem: I don’t live in Gotham. There aren’t a bunch of crazies scheduling heists and telling everyone and their mom about it so I can show up to save the day. Crime in the real world happens fast and usually without much planning, and definitely without uniformed goons carrying out the plans of some lunatic. I do not have my ear to the ground for news within the cocaine racket. I am incapable of learning about significant illegal activities (to a point where I could be a useful masked crusader) without joining the police, or a gang. Neither of which is sounding too appealing right now.
But that hasn’t stopped me from considering going through with it.
I look at masks online, considering the pros and cons of displaying the lower-half of my face. I think of what my outfit would look like (no cape), what my equipment might consist of (short, blunt weapons, stun gun). Then I think practically: when would I get the chance to change into this getup? While the crime is going on? So I would just leave while people get robbed or shot at or beaten? Would I wear my costume beneath my clothes all the time so I wouldn’t have to change into it? The whole situation is totally impossible.
but that chick in the wheelchair is toast
But then I think, I don’t need to be on the prowl for criminals. I would just have to react if I ever got the chance. No time to change into costume, or even reveal a costume.
But there would be time to don a mask.
Masks… are really, really cool. I want one. I want to wear one. I want to need one so I can justify spending too much money on one. But then I think, The paper trail! Don’t leave one! In case this whole thing gets out of hand. In case I end up on Youtube as some local heroine, and the police search for someone who purchased a mask like mine in the last year, and they’ll find me! And then bring me in for questioning! That’d be pretty gnarly.
There’s a part of me that will always think of this a totally doable because I want to protect those around me. It’s in my nature to be a guardian. I can’t imagine that ever changing.
So… I dunno if you’ve ever heard of this stuff. It’s called wine. It’s this thing where people take grapes, and do stuff to them, then they squish ’em, then more shit happens to them, then BOOM, fuckin’ wine. It’s delicious by the way.
Waaaaay back when, I traveled alone to Romania to meet up with a group of random students to do volunteer work and explore the country. We spent the first two weeks in a city called Arad. Lots of dirt roads, gypsies, wandering dogs, and other shit to make young Americans feel unsafe. Plus we were there to spend time with “derelict youth” or something. Most of us were around 19 or so, so naturally, we got drunk as often as possible.
nectar
Everything was über cheap, so we threw our U.S. dollars around like that shit was weighing us down. I found this little liquor shop in town. The owner flirted with me and the other girl I was with (he said something like, “you ladies are so tan, I wonder if your skin is light under your clothes” or some shit with his best broken English and child molester smiley-wink. What an asshat). Anyway, he sold really fuckin’ cheap wine that turned out to taste like sugar-infused liquid gold. I shared my bottle the first night. The second night, everyone showed up to hang out with their own bottles. What a bunch of lushes. It’s a fond memory. There was a guy there, he was… 17 I think, named Adi. What a cutie. He was my first adult white boy crush. He was so sweet. I should hit him up.
Right, so it took me forever to figure out what the fuck that stuff was (I was clever enough to NOT bring the label home with me). But I found it (or something just like it), dammit, and it is delicious. In fact, time for a refill. No I’m not fucking kidding.
So anyway, I finally found this stuff. It’s called an Ausbrüch, which is usually apparently white, but this one is red red red. The only real drawback is that it’s salty or something, so if I drink a bunch of it, I have to wake up twice in the middle of the night to chug a whole cup of water. Huh.
UPDATE: February 25th, 9:46pm (my timestamp is screwed up, it’s not the 26th yet)
Holy shit! I just found Adi on facebook! Sent a request with a message like, hey you probably don’t remember me, we held hands and drank wine and I told you to stop smoking and stuff. kthxbai! For the record, I am not optimistic about this reunion. He probably remembers me as the boorish American chick who harassed him for two weeks straight. Ugh. My first drunken facebook contact might turn out to crush me entirely.
UPDATE: February 26th, 4:09pm
Adi’s my facebook friend! So random! No contact, it’s just weird to see his face again. Craaaaaazy.
Sunday, February 6th
Home made fried chicken with BBQ’d carrots, garlic bread, lemonade, at the Treehouse (my friend’s apartment; the place a group of my friends is most likely to congregate to hang out, meet before an excursion, etc.).
Friday, February 11th
Bday dinner at Animal with Boyfriend. Bone marrow, flatiron steak, ox tail, foi gras.
Saturday, February 12th (birthday!)
Bluberry pancakes for breakfast at BLD, mac and cheese for dinner at Barney’s Beanery, followed by ice skating.
my stomach is so happy, it's gone anime
Monday, February 14th (Valentine’s day)
Bday lunch with coworkers at MortonFig. Dinner with Boyfriend: home made penne asparagus with garlic.
Tuesday, February 15th
Buffalo burger with sweet potato fries for work lunch at LA Athletic Club. Ritzy!
Friday, February 18th (Treehouse Friend’s bday)
Medieval Times! Soup, chicken, garlic bread, potatoes, apple dessert.
Saturday, February 19th
Bday dinner with family at Tagine. Hummus, bell pepper salad, bastillab (sweet meat in phyllo), scallops, sea bass, lamb, vanilla ice cream in chocolate soup.
Monday, February 21st
I make ramen dinner at the Treehouse for Boyfriend, Treehouse Friend, and Artist Friend, with green onions, hot oil, and salmon and scallop sashimi.
Out of all this food, I only paid for two meals (Medieval Times and ramen). So far soooo goooood. I love food so much. I need to go to Daikokuya with Boyfriend soon. It’s my favorite ramen place so far. I wish it wasn’t downtown, but its Little Tokyo location is part of its charm.
UPDATE February 25th, 9:58pm
Friday, February 25th
That wine I love arrived a few days ago, and I finally had some. It’s perfect. See my first drunken post, ‘El vino.’
I’ve been spending my free time sketching lately, which is good because I get this weird feeling whenever I’m doing only one thing that I have to do two things. For example: watching Buffy while sketching is an acceptable combination of activities. Cooking is also fun because it demands I do many things somewhat simultaneously. Dishes suck for this reason: they’re only one thing. Driving doesn’t count because I’m almost always either talking to myself when there’s no music, or thinking up music video ideas to the music when there is (and sometimes talking to myself about said music video ideas). One thing is not enough.
Why do I have to do more than one thing at a time? Is it some compulsion–HEY! I’m blogging! And doing nothing else! No, wait, I’m also drinking tea. False alarm.
So is it some compulsion my generation has developed due to our constant access to any and all things various via the interwebz? The need to multitask all the time? I’ve heard that multitaskers aren’t very good at doing many things at a time well, and are even worse at doing just one thing at a time well. Fuuuuuck!
Reductio ad absurdum: My generation sucks at sex. No, that can’t be right. *wink* HAHAHA!
Why do I want to punch every handsome man in his handsome face?
I’m not a huge fan of good-looking people in general, but when a certain kind of handsome man enters the room, I want to throw coffee all over his tailored sweater, and break his perfect nose. But why? Do all handsome men look like douche bags by default? Why do I hate them so fast? I have a few theories, and they all include broad, sweeping generalities, so be ready to sprinkle asterisks (with “most of the time” attached) all over the following:
1. Good looking people are more likely to be jerks.
christian bale can run his mouth like a pro
Handsome people are treated slightly better during simple interactions with strangers than average-looking or ugly people. As a result, they become used to this treatment, and come to expect it. For this reason, their sense of entitlement makes pretty people automatically intolerable (even though they’ve been trained to feel this way by others, and it’s not their fault). People who expect attention seek it out when they don’t get it. They’re not content to be wall flowers; they must be heard and watched, and do what they must to achieve the attention they crave. Their tolerance for not being the center of attention at some point during every interaction is laughably low, and for this, I hate them.
2. Good looking people are better looking than me, and always will be.
I can’t stress enough how annoying it is when I’m feeling unusually pretty, and a beautiful woman walks in and suddenly I feel totally inadequate. It just sucks out loud. But what’s even worse than not feeling pretty anymore is that the whole time, I’m fully aware of how dumb it is that I feel this way. Have I gotten uglier since she came around? Of course not, but I’m less attractive by comparison, so I might as well have. It doesn’t make sense, but my brain can’t get around it; this woman’s face has conquered my brain and she doesn’t even know it. Fuck. And cosmetic surgery is for morons with issues, so this effect is guaranteed to happen again in the future. It’s a depressing, shallow thought from which I should be able to logically free myself. No dice.
3. Good looking people are vapid.
don't encourage her, cow
Clearly this isn’t true for every handsome person on the planet, but I’m making sweeping generalizations, so who cares. Pretty people are like pretty paintings: fun to look at, but lacking in depth and long-term return. With no need to do anything other than smile and laugh to get a positive reaction, deep interactions are unnecessary for pretty people. They don’t have to try hard to seem interesting, so they don’t. Think: If you wanted to have a fascinating conversation with someone, who do you think would be more likely to be able to provide one; a handsome person, or an average-looking person? Perhaps more importantly: which is less likely to complain about how fat they feel after eating half their meal?
4. Good looking people get credit for being good looking.
This is by far the most ridiculous issue I have with handsome people. I recognize that no one approaches a pretty face and says, “Wow, you’re so pretty, good job!” But some small function of my brain recognizes being handsome as a benefit on the same level as other accomplishments (the kind people work at). So who should get credit for a person’s good looks? I want to say the parents for passing on their genes, but they’re not responsible for having said genes either. So we’re left with natural selection, and chance. The handsome people didn’t have anything to do with it, so when they’re paid to be models or shitty actors, or whatever, it makes me pop my best “are you shitting me?” face. Stop rewarding people for shit they didn’t do.
So let’s review: Pretty people are jerks, they make me feel like shit, they bore me to tears, and they get rewarded for doing nothing. This all seems like solid evidence for my previously unnamed, knee-jerk hatred for the handsome.
Now that we’ve established that I’m a shallow person who hates pretty people, I have a confession to make: All my friends are handsome and beautiful. All of them. I don’t have a single ugly or average-looking friend. They’re also intelligent, funny, thoughtful, selfless people who work hard, and are not rewarded for their looks with modeling contracts or acting gigs.
I would like to take this opportunity to apologize to my friends, and especially Boyfriend, the handsomest guy I know.
Be Random, Be Clear 