1. 13 June 2007

    Huh?

    541 days ago

    • I don’t get how waiters can get away with putting so much ice in the water they give you. I’m anti-ice in my beverages. All it does is dilute the flavor of whatever you’re drinking (water excepted) and make your teeth hurt (water included). But fricking restaurants, they fill their cups half beverage, half ice, and as soon as you finish up the water, they pour out the sides of their pitchers until you have a cup full of ice with a few sips of water between them. I was at dinner tonight and the first pour was from a water jug up by the cash register, it’s a pretty laid back café sort of place, and the waitress who came by did a good job the first few refills. (I drink gobs of water, like 7 glasses if I’m sitting at the kind of meal where you actually sit, and don’t just chow then leave.) But then the ice came in, and dammit. I’d feel like an asshole asking for water without ice. A week or so ago I seriously thought about it. The biggest problem is once I finish the water, whenever my cup is empty and I don’t have food to eat, I go to town on the cubes themselves, crunching and eating them. I’m sure these aren’t exactly what you might call table manners. Also probably not what you would call comfortable on the mouth/teeth/throat. Freezing actually, but I’m thirsty and because you’ve wasted such a large percentage of the volume of my cup on ice, an expanded solid form of a liquid that really would help to dispatch my thirst, dammed that I have to waste my jaw muscles and internal body heat returning it to its more digestible fluid form.
    • The cardigans, Love me Love me Lovefool I believe. Jim sang it in the office a few episodes back from where I’m at now (season three, a few episodes before the merger, to annoy Karen who was squeaking her chair), and just 15 minutes ago a kid I talked to once or twice last year at school who’s now the new DJ at the current who works the 11pm-5am shift weeknights just played the song giving me the energy to first sing along in a faux falsetto that I didn’t know I had and then come down here to write about it. I looked for the song in my iTunes, no luck, but darn that’s a good song.
    • Toga/sarong/whatever you want to call draping yourself in cloth and calling it clothing. I sleep up a ladder in a loft. I have huge street facing windows in my second floor room. I sleep naked for the most part. I hate closing the shades on my windows, I’m very much against closed shades. This causes problems when I want to get up and down the ladder, in and out of bed. Laying in bed I’m not at all worried, I’m pretty sure the line of view is oblique enough if it exists at all that nobody will ever see me, but parading up and down the ladder bothers me a bit. The other day I discovered that up in bed I’m already draped in a sheet: as opposed to finding my underwear, figuring out how to get it ready to put on, putting it on, turning over and making my way down the ladder; I can just roll myself up in the sheet somehow and pop on down totally covered. It’s awesome. I wish I lived somewhere like India or Africa where people actually dressed like this. Simple and elegant, just turn the cloth around you a time or two and tuck it into itself and the friction will keep it there. I’m not quite to going around the house like that yet, but for rolling out of bed saturday morning and lounging for a while, it’s great.
    • Freakin’ a it’s hot out. I bike to and from work most days, 10 miles each way. It’s overall enjoyable, though it does take a lot out of me energy wise. The worse part is the sweat that builds up on my face as I go, it’s never bad, doesn’t drip too much, just a thin film. But as soon as I get off the bike the aerodynamic forces that kept the sweat out of my eyes for the duration of the riding vanish, leaving a not insignificant amount of runny salt no place to go but into my eyes. Ouch.
    • In reference to my second point here, I hate people who claim guilty pleasures. The average uptight music head (think hipster radio DJ) wouldn’t be caught anywhere near certain songs, but the absolute worst thing is when the same fellow plays one of the same songs with some mocking words beforehand, admitting the tastelessness of the song and yet claiming it can somehow bypass his impeccable musical taste. Just admit you think it’s a good song and like it, fuck what all your dolled up friends with nothing better to do than judge one another based on their musical tastes think and will think of you.

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