Not sure if it's because i adored Charlotte's Web as a child or what, but i have a teensy spider living in my kitchen, on the counter near the sink, next to the knife block*. i noticed him there one day and thought, Hm. What should i do with him? Since i'm not a bug-squasher or a girly screamer, the only option left seemed to be capturing him and relocating him to the out-of-doors. . . But then i leaned in for a closer look, curious as to why a spider would build a web in such a high-traffic, potentially splashy area. Slowly it dawned on me. Of course! The clever little bastard had settled there because of one thing, and one thing only: the nearby proximity of fruit.
Now i know what you're thinking: spiders don't eat fruit, you ignoramus. And you'd be correct. But they DO eat fruit flies, and it just so happens that i always keep lots of fruit on the counter. Don't have a fruit bowl, don't even have the room for one. But i line up my bananas, mangoes, oranges and pears like nobody's business. And from time to time, the abundance gets away from me. Or the garbage doesn't get taken out as much as it should (heh heh). And then, the fruit flies come.
They are probably my least favorite bug. Give me the heebie-jeebies, big time. i'm pretty sure it all stems from a horrifying experience i had as a young teenager, involving a dark cupboard drawer where we kept our potatoes, and lots of time passing before anyone was inspired to actually eat one of those potatoes. . . needless to say, the person who finally decided to look in that foreboding drawer was me, and instead of finding shriveled up, benign husks i was affronted with an awful sour smell and a swarm of fruit flies straight into my face. Eyes, nose, mouth, hell–even my ears. i went bonkers for a minute there, pretty sure. Not good.
So this is where Spidery comes in (no, i haven't given him a name (yet)). i let him stay, and he keeps the fruit fly population in check. Works out great, really. Plus, i really feel as though i have a companion when i'm in the kitchen, bored out of my mind washing dishes or whatnot. And when i see an evil red fruit fly wrapped up nice and tight in a silk cocoon, my heart just swells with pride. Wish we could tiny hi-five.
*Funny thing about that knife block: none of those fuckers even work any more. Nat had them when i met him, ten years ago almost, and they were crappy then. Big, cheap, serrated things, only one of which i ever use: the small one, for when i need to open packing tape on cardboard boxes. So why do we keep the knife block? Just 'cause. (read: extreme dysfunction).
Saturday, January 2
Thursday, December 31
Things i did on vacation.
Discovered a new love for Louis Armstrong (beyond "What a Wonderful World" and "Mack the Knife").
Drove up the California coast and visited elephant seals, including brand new babies and two (huge!) fighting, braying bulls. Fantastic.
Glimpsed Hearts Castle from afar, realized that we should probably go sometime.
Finally saw Big Sur.
Ate way too much chocolate.
Decided that the cheap ticket price on Virgin America ($49!) from SFO to San Diego was not worth it when multiple advertisements were blared at me during takeoff. Not okay. Need to re-think future travel plans. (Hey, remember when movies cost less AND had no ads? Yeah. Those were the days.)
Realized how lucky lucky lucky i am, in more ways than i can count.
Realized how utterly cheeseball i am, a prime example of which is illustrated by the previous sentence.
Now, even though i've always maintained that "time", as we know it, is an arbitrary measure, happy new year to you all. Hope the days ahead are full and mostly devoid of:
-ads
-assholes
-overconsumption
-sickness
-debt
-sadness
-and so on and so forth.
Here's to simpler, happy times.
Drove up the California coast and visited elephant seals, including brand new babies and two (huge!) fighting, braying bulls. Fantastic.
Glimpsed Hearts Castle from afar, realized that we should probably go sometime.
Finally saw Big Sur.
Ate way too much chocolate.
Decided that the cheap ticket price on Virgin America ($49!) from SFO to San Diego was not worth it when multiple advertisements were blared at me during takeoff. Not okay. Need to re-think future travel plans. (Hey, remember when movies cost less AND had no ads? Yeah. Those were the days.)
Realized how lucky lucky lucky i am, in more ways than i can count.
Realized how utterly cheeseball i am, a prime example of which is illustrated by the previous sentence.
Now, even though i've always maintained that "time", as we know it, is an arbitrary measure, happy new year to you all. Hope the days ahead are full and mostly devoid of:
-ads
-assholes
-overconsumption
-sickness
-debt
-sadness
-and so on and so forth.
Here's to simpler, happy times.
Monday, December 14
twirling, whirling.
i truly do not recommend washing your face while you are sobbing quietly. Not only does the bowliness of the sink magnify your pathetically held-back sobs, but you will be rubbing snot all over your face. Trust me on this. On a related note, one day i may begin categorizing the colors of human malady. i have been coughing up some soul-shuddering shades of green lately, and the interest with which i scrutinize these things is beyond me. Why do we study them so? It reminded me of having a bad bruise: what could be more arresting than waking up each day to see what new hue has appeared on your thigh? Magenta, grey, blue-green? And in the seventh grade i used to tie rubber bands around my finger tips to experience the plethora of sensations: cold. numb, colorful. Pointer fingers always turned an angry red, like a schoolmarm. Ring fingers were always meekly pale and jaundiced, while pinkies turned alarming shades of purple, like children holding their breath. There probably wouldn't be much of a market for this type of collection, though. Maybe i'll stick to collage.
In other news: mistletoe has been hung, greens festoon the apartment, the tape and wrapping paper and scissors are lying about. It may be frantic, but it's the happy kind. We even had–wait for it– rain.
Next year we are sending out a photo card with us in christmas sweaters! It will be grand. i'll have to try and give it some sort of seventies photo-finishing effect, plus i need to practice my poses.
Also: i'm thinking of having a buy-nothing holiday next year? Might be nice, you know: only friends, family, games, baked goods, (hopefully) snow, candles, and so on and so forth? No Amazon.com, cardboard boxes, packing slips, removing (or neglecting to remove) price tags. Hmmm. Sounds like a win.
Catch you on the flipside.
Monday, November 30
Bad things come in threes.
It's true!*
The visiting fam and i rented 4 movies from Blockbuster to fill the void left by the fact that i don't have television (apologies to anyone who ever stays with us in the future!) to help entertain. Here's how it went down:
Year One: Jack Black literally eats a piece of shit in this movie. Is there anything else that needs to be said? (Although, one small concession offered here, because the first shot of Michael Cera shows him gathering strawberries while talking to them lovingly. So delightful and tender.) To be fair, i was in the kitchen for about 85% of this film, and only listening, but the review stands. Also: David Cross plays Cain, and is tragically not funny, something i'd heretofore thought impossible. Sort of an ADD version of Mel Brooks' History of the World.
Echelon Conspiracy: So, the half-nerdish half-suave techie "hero" looks and sounds exactly like Doogie Howser here, and that's the only thing this movie's really got goin' for it. Which is sad, considering that Ving Rhames and Martin Sheen are also present. What a terrible waste. Think Bourne Supremacy as a student film. Also, texting plays a major role in this film. Ouch.
Sunshine Cleaning: Can i have this hour and a half of my life back? Please? This was one of the worst films i've ever seen, in almost every way: Terrible script, annoying acting, hollow premise and character development, wasted talent (Steve Zahn and Alan Arkin both), just– everything. The best part was the one-armed man, although when is that ever not the case? i learned from this movie that i want to kill Amy Adams, even adorable children cannot save a waste of celluloid, and that maybe i don't want to be involved with crime scenes in any way, after all. (used to watch C.S.I. and dream, who didn't?) The only memorable or moving scene was Emily Blunt hanging from an elevated train track at night, train flying by overhead and sparks being thrown about. But still, i do not forgive.
Worst. Movie. Ever.
Our fourth and final selection, a wildcard movie about used-car sales called The Goods, ended up being the surprise favorite. Jeremy Piven, Ving Rhames (again!), Ed Helms, and Craig Robinson (as a highly unstable, yet dedicated DJ) wound up making our night. A team of crack used-car salespeople converge on Temecula to save a friend's car lot. The comedy is a little hard to pin down–base? raunchy? something like that, only better–but the wit is sharp and you are definitely rooting for these people, although you will never, ever, understand why. i read a review somewhere stating that only people with mental problems would find this film funny. Guilty as charged.
*NOTE: i found this Thanksgiving-era post in my 'drafts' folder. oops! Bet you're wishing i'd left it there, aren't you? AREN'T YOU?! Well, too bad. And since you made it this far, i will reward you with this, via flaunted's photostream on Flickr.
Just look at all that turtley goodness.
::crunch::
The visiting fam and i rented 4 movies from Blockbuster to fill the void left by the fact that i don't have television (apologies to anyone who ever stays with us in the future!) to help entertain. Here's how it went down:
Year One: Jack Black literally eats a piece of shit in this movie. Is there anything else that needs to be said? (Although, one small concession offered here, because the first shot of Michael Cera shows him gathering strawberries while talking to them lovingly. So delightful and tender.) To be fair, i was in the kitchen for about 85% of this film, and only listening, but the review stands. Also: David Cross plays Cain, and is tragically not funny, something i'd heretofore thought impossible. Sort of an ADD version of Mel Brooks' History of the World.
Echelon Conspiracy: So, the half-nerdish half-suave techie "hero" looks and sounds exactly like Doogie Howser here, and that's the only thing this movie's really got goin' for it. Which is sad, considering that Ving Rhames and Martin Sheen are also present. What a terrible waste. Think Bourne Supremacy as a student film. Also, texting plays a major role in this film. Ouch.
Sunshine Cleaning: Can i have this hour and a half of my life back? Please? This was one of the worst films i've ever seen, in almost every way: Terrible script, annoying acting, hollow premise and character development, wasted talent (Steve Zahn and Alan Arkin both), just– everything. The best part was the one-armed man, although when is that ever not the case? i learned from this movie that i want to kill Amy Adams, even adorable children cannot save a waste of celluloid, and that maybe i don't want to be involved with crime scenes in any way, after all. (used to watch C.S.I. and dream, who didn't?) The only memorable or moving scene was Emily Blunt hanging from an elevated train track at night, train flying by overhead and sparks being thrown about. But still, i do not forgive.
Worst. Movie. Ever.
Our fourth and final selection, a wildcard movie about used-car sales called The Goods, ended up being the surprise favorite. Jeremy Piven, Ving Rhames (again!), Ed Helms, and Craig Robinson (as a highly unstable, yet dedicated DJ) wound up making our night. A team of crack used-car salespeople converge on Temecula to save a friend's car lot. The comedy is a little hard to pin down–base? raunchy? something like that, only better–but the wit is sharp and you are definitely rooting for these people, although you will never, ever, understand why. i read a review somewhere stating that only people with mental problems would find this film funny. Guilty as charged.
*NOTE: i found this Thanksgiving-era post in my 'drafts' folder. oops! Bet you're wishing i'd left it there, aren't you? AREN'T YOU?! Well, too bad. And since you made it this far, i will reward you with this, via flaunted's photostream on Flickr.
Just look at all that turtley goodness.
::crunch::
Sunday, November 22
Sing a song of sixpence.
"Four and twenty blackbirds, bakin' up a pie."
(this is how Nat and i always sing it– so much more wonderful to imagine a throng of them in the kitchen; sifting flour, measuring spices, and rolling out dough.)
Anyway, here is an interesting little piece about crows (and how rather rad they are). Our avian friends never cease to amaze me. Make sure to scroll down and take the identification test, too. It's a touch one! Nat and i guessed the first one correctly, but it became more and more difficult after that. i'm convinced that it's in the eyes, and the beak feathers.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In other news:
i received a gift of (flowering) narcissus bulbs from a friend recently, and couldn't be happier.
Last night, after dinner with friends, we listened to An Elvis Christmas–loudly–on the drive home. Now we're dreaming of snow... hopefully this winter we will make it up North again. Unfortunately, during dinner, one of our servers decided it would be really great to brush his arm against our dining companion's breasts– three separate times. The table was crowded, and the space limited, so she told us not worry, that he was just trying to find a place to set down the rice, aloo gobi, dal... It was difficult not to storm out; i suppose, though, that if she was not upset about it then i should not have been. But how awful! As someone with very, er, minor amplitude, i have never had to worry about this particular offense. But seeing it happen in person was rather disgusting. Thank goodness i was able to quell my rage with my appletini.
And will someone please watch the movie Kontroll, so that we can talk about it here? What the deuce is happening at the end? There are too many possible scenarios for us to be happy with any one choice... definitely an enjoyable film to watch, though. Thank you, Netflix, for that "Dark/Psychological/Foreign" category you came up with, there. Bravo. Keep 'em comin'.
(this is how Nat and i always sing it– so much more wonderful to imagine a throng of them in the kitchen; sifting flour, measuring spices, and rolling out dough.)
Anyway, here is an interesting little piece about crows (and how rather rad they are). Our avian friends never cease to amaze me. Make sure to scroll down and take the identification test, too. It's a touch one! Nat and i guessed the first one correctly, but it became more and more difficult after that. i'm convinced that it's in the eyes, and the beak feathers.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In other news:
i received a gift of (flowering) narcissus bulbs from a friend recently, and couldn't be happier.
Last night, after dinner with friends, we listened to An Elvis Christmas–loudly–on the drive home. Now we're dreaming of snow... hopefully this winter we will make it up North again. Unfortunately, during dinner, one of our servers decided it would be really great to brush his arm against our dining companion's breasts– three separate times. The table was crowded, and the space limited, so she told us not worry, that he was just trying to find a place to set down the rice, aloo gobi, dal... It was difficult not to storm out; i suppose, though, that if she was not upset about it then i should not have been. But how awful! As someone with very, er, minor amplitude, i have never had to worry about this particular offense. But seeing it happen in person was rather disgusting. Thank goodness i was able to quell my rage with my appletini.
And will someone please watch the movie Kontroll, so that we can talk about it here? What the deuce is happening at the end? There are too many possible scenarios for us to be happy with any one choice... definitely an enjoyable film to watch, though. Thank you, Netflix, for that "Dark/Psychological/Foreign" category you came up with, there. Bravo. Keep 'em comin'.
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