Wednesday, March 31, 2004
Another Shangrilogic Moment
Today, for some reason, (perhaps because I was wearing a new raincoat) there seemed to be a burning desire to know exactly how many coats I own. Apparently eight is an absurd number. (Lucky for me, I forgot to mention the two still in storage downstairs...)
Oh No!
"The curse has come upon me, cried
The Lady of Loves-to-sleep-a-lot..."
Daylight Savings Time starts April 4th.
Tuesday, March 30, 2004
Sweet Mother of God...
I don't know what's more frightening, the fact that someone thought this up or the fact that people are going to buy it...
I don't know what's more frightening, the fact that someone thought this up or the fact that people are going to buy it...
Friday, March 26, 2004
When a Young Girl's Fancy Turns Lightly to Thoughts Of...
Today, my friends, today is an iced-no-whip-mocha-frappuccino day. It is a day of swingy skirts and kitten-heeled sandals, a day of pink lip gloss that seeks not to prove itself like the crocus against the basilisk grey of a late winter morning, but wants only to be one with the soft, sweet air and the fragrant trees. In a word, Dear Readers, it is Spring.
I could sing.
(But out of respect to the robin and the lark and DC's noise laws, I won't.)
Thursday, March 25, 2004
Oh Jesus...
Sometimes, just to remind myself how lucky I am not to live in Texas, I check the Houston Chronicle to see what kind of news makes headlines in that swampy, Republican-infested backwater.
Today's Top Story:
'Passion of Christ' moves man to confess killing 'suicide' victim
Wednesday, March 24, 2004
When God Closes a Door, Somewhere He Opens a Window.
Monday morning, my charming officemates and I moved from the derelict, burnt out corner five blocks away from Gallery Place/Chinatown to a bright, sunlit building a stone's throw from Union Station and the Dubliner. (Mmmmm).
My only regret was that Starbucks would no longer be on my breezy way to work for early morning fortification via a Venti Non-Fat Chai. In fact, the nearest Starbucks to me now is that very same establishment just catty-corner (I learned this word a couple of months ago, and it continues to fascinate me...) to the Metro stop I left behind eight (but really it might as well be eighty for all I'm going to walk there) blocks down Massachusetts Ave.
BUT (and here is the part where, like Maria in the Sound of Music, I am shown the goodness and grace of God) there's a new Starbucks opening Friday just in front of the U Street stop that marks the beginning of my daily ingress.
Ah me, and all is right again.
Tuesday, March 23, 2004
John Ashcroft, I've Got My Eye on You
Many thanks to the Department of Justice which has, in a single stroke of big-brotherly intervention, increased my productivity at least one-point-two fold.
Now when I try to go to Wonkette I get the following message:
Access to this web page is restricted by the Department of Justice at this time.
Reason:
The Websense category "Adult Content" is filtered.
Remember guys. Ignorance is Strength.
War out.
Monday, March 22, 2004
My Day Is...
a three-year old in a clothing store, dragging his feet and whining for ice-cream.
Last night, Dante insisted on doing yoga with me. He'd sneak in and lie down behind my back, growl at my feet, and curl up against my side with his toy. All of which is very cute, but as anyone who has ever done yoga will tell you, it's all about alignment. As a result, I have more kinks from neck to knees than I managed to work out.
Sigh.
Sunday, March 21, 2004
For the Slugabeds among Us
Awake! for Morning in the Bowl of Night
Has flung the Stone that puts the Stars to Flight:
And Lo! the Hunter of the East has caught
The Sultan's Turret in a Noose of Light.
From the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam as translated by Edward Fitzgerald
Saturday, March 20, 2004
A Girl and Her Dog: The Fitness Edition
The idea of running with Dante is so appealing to me. As Jonathan is so fond of reminding me, the image of us out on the boulevards of DC borders on the ridiculous. A petite miss (although of average height for an Asian-American female) in a gigantic sun hat with a gamboling loaf of a dog with ears as large as his legs are short. Running together would give us legitimacy like the sleek joggers with their golden retrievers and their labs. It would make us street.
So every once so often, on a morning that dawns bright with promise, a spring morning (like this morning) after the long, grey winter, Dante and I go running together.
It is at times like this that I am reminded why we don't.
Dante is a herding dog. When things are moving, his natural instinct is to nip at their heels and get between their legs until they go where he wants them to go. These moving things include my pant legs, my shoes, and his leash. After several near face to concrete experiences, we beat a hasty retreat back to the apartment, and I went downstairs to use the treadmill.
I think Winston Churchill has more street cred than we do.
Friday, March 19, 2004
I just adore my new little sport MP3 player. It's like I have a soundtrack for my life!
(Which is the way it should be.)
(Which is the way it should be.)
More Aqua Teen Hunger Force!!
For those of you who don't know, I'm an ATHF addict. Shake, Frylock, Meatwad, and their assorted associaties and arch-enemies are the archetypal patterns of our brave new world. Watch it. You'll see what I mean. Seriously, I do command it.
Also, the careening absurdity so reminiscent of a P.G. Wodehouse novel (but much seedier and set on the South Jersey Shore) whispers sweet nothings to my sense of humor.
Some of my favorites:
Shake: You'll find the back of my hand very displeasing.
Ignignot: Using a key to gouge expletives on another's vehicle is a sign of trust and friendship.
Shake: Why don't you go check the gutters.
Frylock: Why would it be up in the gutters, Shake?
Shake: That's where your DVD burner ended up, when it decided not to work.
Frylock: Oh, I damn sure better not find that up there.
Shake: Well that's the last place I remember chucking it.
Frylock: Why are these jeans all covered in hair?
Shake: Why is anything ANYTHING? THAT is the style from L.A., and that is where my manager lives, and my agent, okay? The case is solved.
For those of you who don't know, I'm an ATHF addict. Shake, Frylock, Meatwad, and their assorted associaties and arch-enemies are the archetypal patterns of our brave new world. Watch it. You'll see what I mean. Seriously, I do command it.
Also, the careening absurdity so reminiscent of a P.G. Wodehouse novel (but much seedier and set on the South Jersey Shore) whispers sweet nothings to my sense of humor.
Some of my favorites:
Shake: You'll find the back of my hand very displeasing.
Ignignot: Using a key to gouge expletives on another's vehicle is a sign of trust and friendship.
Shake: Why don't you go check the gutters.
Frylock: Why would it be up in the gutters, Shake?
Shake: That's where your DVD burner ended up, when it decided not to work.
Frylock: Oh, I damn sure better not find that up there.
Shake: Well that's the last place I remember chucking it.
Frylock: Why are these jeans all covered in hair?
Shake: Why is anything ANYTHING? THAT is the style from L.A., and that is where my manager lives, and my agent, okay? The case is solved.
Wednesday, March 17, 2004
Hearing Dick Cheney's voice always makes me want to donate to the Kerry campaign. I'm a textbook case for Pavlov.
Ooooo cherry blossoms!
For this, my one brief, shining slice of a year between final exams, I shall finally have time to go down to the Mall to enjoy them.
I just hope the weather doesn't rain on my parade...
For this, my one brief, shining slice of a year between final exams, I shall finally have time to go down to the Mall to enjoy them.
I just hope the weather doesn't rain on my parade...
I'm trying to decide whether to donate my hair to Locks of Love. It's just about ten inches now, but that would entail shearing it off at the nape. I (and my cheeks) are just not ready for that kind of bobbing or pixie cutting or whatnot. I think I'll wait and see if I can push out another inch or two by May.
Tuesday, March 16, 2004
If Marlon Brando were a Corgi…
(For those of you who actually believed that my penultimate entry on dogs was indeed my last, shame on you for your gullibility. I expected better from my Readership.)
I can laugh about this now, but when I arrived at the Houston Intercontinental Airport late one Thursday night in early March I didn't recognize Dante. I saw my father, then my mother, then a corpulent, waddling mass of fur and fat suspended delicately, impossibly on four short white legs. His fine features remained visible beneath the rolls of extraneous skin like some faint palimpsest of a master work, but his once loaf-like physique that bespoke warmth and comfort had expanded like an experiment with yeast gone horribly, horribly wrong. My poor puppy!
Happily, two weeks later, with the aid of some Weight Management formula from Beneful (and removal from the environment facilitating his obesity), he’s back to a healthy weight, but I must confess to some trepidation regarding the fate of the puppy named Puppy (once Daschka, now Magellan). Maybe I can get some sympathetic judge to award me custody…
Tuesday, March 09, 2004
Today's entry about Dante and my trip to Texas has been cancelled for an important self-congratulatory moment of gloat.
:-D
I GOT IN!
:-D
