Salty Characters in the Great State, #5-7 in a list

5-7. The husband, wife and child who went to the CC hockey game in Star Trek costumes.

Overhead at the hockey game

Drunk guy sitting behind me: "Man, them guys are fast... like leprechauns!"

Salty Characters I've met in the Great State, #5 in a list

5. The attorney who pronounces corroborrate as "co-wob-o-rate." Repeatedly. Strangely, he pronounces the second "r" correctly, so I know he's capable of it...

New (to me foods), #4 in a list

4. Buttered edamame.

Everyone who has glanced in my freezer knows that I love edamame. I keep it frozen at all times. It is easy, fast and healthy. Except at Utopia. They apparently do not find it easy, because they managed to get it wrong. Way wrong, and take about 15 minutes to do so. And soaked it in butter.

Overheard at Thanksgiving

Senile Grandfather [looking around at our Thanksgiving table, peopled with 30 family members he doesn't remember]: These are some really nice people here.

My counsin Anne: Yeah, they are nice people. And good-looking too.

Grandfather: Good-looking? Well... I guess some of them.

New (to me) foods, #3 in a list

Yeah, I'm dropping the "fried" requirement.

3. Frito pie hamburger. Yes, a burger with a frito pie on top of the patty. The quarter of the burger that I ate surely took several years off my life. And I can't say the frito pie added too much to my enjoyment. I mean, it added a certain crunch...much like lettuce would... except with more chemicals and transfats.

Wikipedia informs me that Dairy Queen also serves a frito pie burger. Hmm. It also informs me that in the Midwest, frito pie is known as a "walking taco," a fact begging several questions: Isn't mobility part of a taco's appeal? How easy is it to walk with a frito pie, which is way messier than a normal taco? What resemblance does frito pie even bear to tacos, which traditionally contain none of the same ingredients? But that is an issue for another day.

Overheard on the Radio this Morning

"Is that chill in the air autumn or do I feel the Cold War returning?" Seriously, the "news" guy on 99.1 uttered this sentence. We'll note that today's predicted LOW is 70. The only chill to be found is the one that ran down my spine when I was subjected to such patent fearmongering before I'd even had my morning coffee.

Fortunately, I was able to warm up again when Walter Furley stoked the fires of my hatred with "The Way I See It," his weekly editorial on the local NPR. (Oh, Walter Furley, how I hate you.) As the CC readers know, WF (or should I say W[t]F [1]) has previously offered such mind-blowingly trite editorials as:

• You Shouldn't Speed Because I Once Saw a Speeder Hit a Poodle and That Was Sad;


• Don't Litter, Because When You Mess With Texas, You Mess With Yourself; and


• Smile. [Yes, truly, a whole editorial about how smiling uses more muscles than frowning and how when you smile you'll feel better. Surely this qualifies as the most insipid message uttered, at least since that guy at that cocktail party tried to seem like a Nice Guy by blathering about how personality is more important than looks if you want to find love. It is as though W[t]F is developing a Chicken Soup for the NPR Listener's Soul, but hasn't gotten around to the cutesy stories yet, just the punchlines that we've all already heard from other Chicken Soup books and inspirational calenders and chats with grandmas.]

But today, Walter reached beyond his standard pablum [or at least claimed to]:
"I have just discovered the answer to all the problems in the world."

Um, delusions of grandeur much? [2]

You're certainly interested in aforementioned panacea. Well, after a brief and stunningly uninformative introduction about chamber music, said answer arrived. LISten. Yes, that's right, LISten. [3] LISten to your spouse and you might prevent a divorce. [This is news?] LISten to your children and they will grow up better adjusted. LISten to the other members of your chamber ensemble and you will perform as a more cohesive unit, bringing joy to the audience. I can't. I can't say much about it. I will merely note that while in many cases this LISten concept is so obvious it goes without saying for anyone except Walter Furley, his catholicon claim overreaches. There is at least one person to whom you can listen and still despise. That person is Walter Furley.

[1] Because, really, what the fuck. Who decided that he should get an editorial? How does he persuade himself that this embarrassment should be aired?

[2] If the hubris of Icarus had a one night stand with the megolomania of Charles Manson, the first words uttered by their love child might just be, "I've found the answer to all the problems of the world."

[3] Yes, he did pronounce it that way, every time, with the strangely intense emphasis on the first syllable. Walter Furley may be the originator of the theory that "Frito" needs a strangely intense emphasis on the second syllable, as in, "Wouldn't it be a great idea to put some fri-TOE pie on this hamburger?" I reject this pronunciation regardless of provenance, but will do so with more glee and vigor if it comes from W[t]F.

Editor's Note: Still hating my inability to do proper footnotes. I heart footnotes.

Awesomest E-Card Ever

I got a sonnet for my birthday, written especially for me. It a little bit makes me feel like one of those girls in old-timey photos in a lacey white dress and pantaloons sitting in a tree reading a miniature book waiting to go to the ice cream social. I think those women would get sonnets for their birthdays. But probably not as good as mine.

Shall I compare thee to a N'vember Day?
How could that cel'brate you at twenty-nine?
The year retires awash in dreary gray,
while you, soul lively, radiantly shine!

That light, alas, away from I was led,
but distance cannot lessen friendship's bond.
You're sharp of mind, witty, and well-read,
such gifts not often found in tall and blonde.

Flaxen locks are not a saintly habit.
Rest this night from your pro bono labor;
venture out, find golden ring, and grab it.
Drink and dance with men who find your favor!

Assured you age with beauty and finesse,
I wish you, on your birthday, happiness!

Entries I was going to write:

1. There was going to be a query about the number of restaurant supply provisioners in Corpus. A recollection about when I noted many in New York and thought, "Ok, that seems like alot, but there are many many restaurants opening and closing all the time..." as contrasted with my comical assesment of CC's dining options. It was going to offer unexpected economic insights, the likes of Freakonomics, and the general triviality of this blog would make an amusing retrospective when said entry formed the basis of my Economics Ph.D. work and subsequent best-seller.

I heart Go Fug Yourself.

First with the Emily Valentine post, which succintly and effectively summarizes everything great about Emily Valentine. [Impressive since there is so truly much great about her that one tends toward the prolix.]

I wasn't going to mention that, because maybe I'm the only one who cares.

But now with the SMG (aka Buffy) post, I can't let it go unsaid. Mostly because it's also about culottes, which were also an important part of my life for the formative 3rd and 4th grade years. [My tour of various Catholic schools allowed me to experience the full range of uniforms, from the culottes with sailor shirt and tie (seriously) to the plaid jumper to the ridiculously short navy pleated skirt.] A review suggests that maybe I'm still the only one who cares. But that's what blogs are for, I suppose.

Overheard on the Airplane

So I'm sitting on a flight, when the old-ish man sitting next to me gestures to my ipod, and goes "What's that?" It was in an iPod sock/cozy, so I thought that was the mystery, so I pulled it out and said, "my iPod."

His response, "Oh, I thought maybe you had a gun."

So flabbergasted was I, my mind absolutely overflowing with questions--Um, WHAT? What are you talking about sir? Do you know something I don't know or do you know NOTHING AT ALL? When did they start making small, rectangular guns with white wires sticking out? Would said gun be made of plastic or wood, such that it would remain undetected? If I had gone to such lengths to obtain such a novel weapon, would I really just admit it, "Oh, this? It's my small, rectangular, plastic gun." Is this meant to be funny? Cuz last I checked jokes on airplanes about guns aren't really the order of the day...--so flabbergasted that I was wholly incapable of summoning my average level of sarcasm and could merely muster a "yeah... guns... they should really get someone to check for those..."

Salty Characters I've met in the Great State, #4 in a list

4. Richard Richie, or as I prefer to think of him, "Richie, Rich." I don't think "awesome name, dude" is an appropriate compliment, though I can't say I tried it out. I'd say the high point of our diaglogue was, "Istanbul? That's in... Turkey?" But I can't hold it too much against him, as he was a nice guy and absolutely insisted on buying me airplane drinks.

Salty Characters I've met in the Great State, #3 in a list

3. Hardcore old Texan oil guy who unknowingly dresses like a gay cowboy. The "unknowingly" is assumed. I did not inquire, "Sir, are you aware that your ensemble would be more appropriate to a stage in La Bare than this Luby's Cafeteria?" So, you know, maybe he does know. But seriously, he's old and has the thick accent and everything. And he was talking to my boss. But anyway, he was wearing a pink floral cowboy shirt. With pearl snaps. And a tan kerchief tied jauntily about the neck! What more can you ask?

The meth addict, hands down.

Today, the commonplace mockery of my single status combined with the commonplace mockery of my liberalism when my co-clerk queried: "Of the two criminals sentenced today, which would you prefer to date?"

I'm not THAT tall, ok?

You know what lines inevitably don't work? Discussion of my height.

Is "Do you play volleyball?" actually calculated to inspired dialogue? No, I don't. In fact, I hate volleyball because despite my slightly-above-average height, I suck at it. Indeed, my slightly-above-average height actually makes this suckage more embarrassing. So thanks for bringing up a sore subject, buddy. Should we talk about basketball too? I love that one.

Even better: "So, ya like tall guys?" Um, really? REALLY? Am I even meant to dignify that with a response? The subtlely pointed, "I don't care about height as long as they've got something interesting to say" is apparently too subtle. Next time, "Generally, yes, you, no."

Granted, club dialogue isn't meaningful dialogue. I know that, believe me, I know. But if you're gonna go lame, at least go with the more generically insipid choices, like Where are you from, What do you do, etc.

Else, go balls-out weird, like "Do my palms smell weird?", "What's your favorite Phil Collins song?" or "Do you know how many insects are in every hot dog?"

That's all I'm saying, is all.

Damn.

It's not clear to me why the employees of nail salons love to ruin my day. But they do.

I truly thought the worst question I would ever get would be the time I walked in and the manager of Rafael's asked if I was there to have my lip waxed. Um, no, I was not. But of course I will now always wonder if I should...

But apparently there is a worse question to ask. "Are you pregnant?" Yes, got that one last night at the Flour Bluffs Nailtime. So while my hands and feet look lovely for my trip to Vegas this weekend, I'm not sure I'll be able to enjoy it that much.

Can't they get the memo that I go to them to feel better about myself? Do I have to go somewhere expensive just to avoid humiliation and self-loathing? And why do I keep paying them? I mean seriously, given the amount of abuse I took from the women at Big Apple Salon, they should have been dressed as domenatrices.

And yet... I keep coming back for more.

Hot or Not?

So I really hesitated to admit this the first time. In fact, I think maybe Christina is the only one I told. But now, I no longer have to be embarrassed about the fact that I a little bit think Ahmadinejad is hot.

I'm sorry, I know. He denies the Holocaust and the existence of gays. And dammit, he's short! Nonetheless, it's true.

But now, the internet has done what it does best: make freaky freaks with freaky interests feel normal. There is apparently a whole community of people with just my strange affection:

Then again, if it's on Daily Kos, it's fine, right? Witness:
"I'm a Jewish lesbian and he'd probably have me killed. But still, the guy speaks some blunt truths about the Bush Administration that make me swoon..."

And USA Today! The Washington Post! It's practically mainstream.

See also, some random blog:
Jezebel, So Is Ahmadinejad Kindof Hot?
Not as reliable as the Washington Post, but I'll take it.

Let me go ahead and offer a small caviat. I think he's only hot in world leader circles. Not in the real world. Like how Noah Feldman is hot in law professor world.

Though to be honest, looking at the photos, they might both be normal-world-pretty-good.

[Please under no circumstances should anyone take this as any other sort of statement of parallelism. As far as I can tell Feldman is actually a lovely person.]

Salty Characters I've met in the Great State, #1-2 in a list

1. #4 Kite surfer in the world. I really thought this was some bullshit some guy was telling me in a bar, but I googled him and apparently it's true. Who knew? (No, it wasn't a kite surfing card. Apparently he moonlights as the general manager of the Omni. Again, who knew?)

2. Kazanovasex@hotmail.com. Um, who could have even begun to suggest that this was a good idea? He seemed like a nice enough person at the time (no, I did not sleep with him, for the record), but then found he was still logged onto his hotmail account on my computer. Kazanova. Sex. What more can I say.

I WON.

Don't get excited--it's just a dialogue with a hipster that I won, not anything worth having.

He, looking disdainfully through my iPod trying to find something he could tolerate, finally happened upon a single Andrew Bird song, a song I got free with my Austin City Limits ticket and have not yet listened to at all. And then sadly noticed, "You only have the one song."

I joked, "Yeah, I just have that one because I found the rest derivative."

He accepted this as valid!

New (to me) fried foods, #1-2 in a list

1. Oysters, having been marinated in pickle juice.

2. Avocado. Yes, seriously.

You say, "Wow, deep frying this already oil-laden substance really removes any possible health value."

I retort: "You say that like it's a bad thing."

My trip, in brief:

OK, I'm here now. And that is a fact about which I will be sure to write more later. First, however, a few bits and pieces on the interim.

--*Quitting my job was amazing. Pretty much the most fun I've had in a while. Or, I should say, I had had until I went on a monthlong trip to Italy.

The highlights:
It should surprise no one at all that mostly they related to food. I'll won't go on at too much length, as I'm now in the land of we-don't-even-have-a-french-restaurant.


It's well established that Barcelona is amazing. I did find shocking, however, the fact that there is actually an establishment that created a cheese plate so intense that Dacia and I actually failed to finish it. We were defeated intensely.



Fig gelato. Even thinking about it makes me speechless.


I can now affirm that I'm capable of ordering a $70 plate of ravioli. I am not, however, capable of fully enjoying it $70 worth. (See Cracco Peck, apparently the 42nd best restaurant in the world: http://www.theworlds50best.com/restaurants/restaurant_42.html.) In other overly considered food news, they also served me a Caprese Salad flavored jello. Seriously, tomato/basil gelatin with pieces of mozerella floating within. Fascinating.



I can now personally confirm that when you check "Yes" on the customs form in response to "Have you handled livestock?" Your bags will be searched. Thoroughly.

It is, apparently, possible for four people to spend so much time together that they can reduce every thought or sentiment they wish to convey to a "your mom" joke. The human spirit never ceases to amaze. (This has nothing to do with a baby lamb. But I can't format this otherwise.)




To quote some extra once on General Hospital,** "I just don't get that modern art."





*We'll note that while blogger has a shortcut command for Hindi translation, I have not discovered any capacity for bullet points. Or footnotes, for that matter. Or hyperlinks. I'm kindof starting to hate Blogger.
**When these sorts of phrases form in my mind, I begin to question my own validity as a person. Really.

My boss, on magistrates

"If you ain't the cowboy, you can't ride the horse."

Seriously.

Not there yet.

Underwhelming opener: I don't expect to update Corpus Juris much until I'm actually in Corpus (a.k.a. CC, aka BC). However, knowing that people are truly hungry for my prose, I wanted to put something here, lest people grow discouraged by the blank template and never come back.

I mostly write for those old school fans of the Friendster blog, which I can't continue because Friendster is, you know, not cool anymore.

I'll just take this moment to state how much I've loved quitting my job. It is truly one of the great pleasures of my employ. I will not be stating this in my departure memorandum, however, because--as was pointed out in my recent evaluation--"some people don't get [my] droll sense of humor."

No really, that was my evaluation: no problems with the work I do, slight dissatisfaction with the person that I am.

Things I expect to miss about New York:

• Cheese. Yes, we do have that technology in Texas, but I doubt I'll be faced with the wealth of establishments purveying my beloved piave, Humboldt Fog, Montrachet and Blue de Basque. New York is where I became a turophile and it will always be a city of cheese for me.
• Bocce. I feel embarrassingly sentimental about my bocce team. I think it's one of my great accomplishments. Because we're so skilled? No, not really (with one or two notable exceptions). Just because we are.
• Walking. Don't get me wrong, I love my new car. I like its jaunty blue color, its stick shift, its ability to transform into a huge robot (oh, wait...). I like that I have named it DJ Jazzy Jeff. But any time I'm driving a feel the vague guilt that I'm helping warm the earth, etc., and there's really no way to walk anywhere in Texas. Walking from your home to your car is considered a burden.
• The array of bizarre fashion on display. It's like no matter what I do, there's someone on the subway looking way more ridiculous than me. This I find reassuring. This I love.

I will not, however, miss winter. Average lowest temperature in Corpus is 46. In January. That I can handle. People always claim they couldn't move because they'd "miss the seasons." I think what they actually mean is that they'll miss the one week each in spring and fall when the weather is actually pleasant. Fine, I'll miss those, but I will never miss winter.