Hey, Amit. This is what you wrote that I thought was funny:
I think that if you post a story on your blog, you should no longer be allowed to tell it at parties where people who read your site might be present.
Someone didn’t clean up after their dog. Someone else took a very small piece of paper, glued it to a toothpick, and inserted it into the mess. The mini picket sign reads, Step in me!
Everyone has their hobbies.
L: I used to work for this company called Emerging Growth Management.
L: It was a financial company.
L: All my friends would call and say, “Hi, I have an emerging growth. Can you manage it?”
Me: That’s hilarious.
L: It is pretty funny.
Me: Less so after the 134th time.
B: All my friends used to work in theater, and whenever one of them got a booking gig, we’d call up to harass them. (thick New York accent) “Hi. This is Javier Abramowitz. I got an act with two cockatiels and some twine. You book that kinda thing?”
Just wrote a film review for Gerry, an independent flick that you’ll either love or hate. I’m in the former camp.
Also, I’ll be interviewed tomorrow morning on KFOG (97.7 FM if you’re in the Bay Area). I’m showing up at the station at 7 a.m., who knows when you’ll actually be able to hear me. I promise to sound more like Mickey Mouse than anyone expected.
I seen you on this bus before. What’s your name?
What sign are you, Alicia?
I’m a Capricorn. I don’t know much about it, but Capricorn is supposed to be compatible with Aries. My fiance’s a Aries.
Oh yeah. I don’t get along with no Virgos. I don’t like them Virgos at all.
Yeah, my ex-husband’s a Virgo, and he cheated on me.
My ex-wife’s a Virgo, and she cheated on me too!
Ha! Can’t trust them Virgos. My fiance’s a Aries. He keeps his hands to himself.
E: Is Hedwig and the Angry Inch” still in town?
B: Is it? I think so.
E: Are you guys gonna go see it?
Me: I have no desire to see it at all.
B: I really want to.
E: We should go.
Me: Yeah, please go.
B: But then we’re two guys going to see a musical about a cross-dressing transvestite.
B: We’ll take Jeff.
This week’s New Yorker is a good’un. “Truth in Architecture” by Larissa MacFarquhar contains a description of Moshe Safdie–who is apparently a world-famous architect–that reminds me of how I’d like to be more mindful:
“He wears beautiful, finely woven shirts that he designs himself and has sewn up by a shirtmaker. He takes great pleasure in eating: he is the sort of person who always squeezes his orange juice by hand, or drives far out of his way to procure strongly flavored olive oil. To him, appreciation of such sensual delights–wine, clothing, food–is not an indulgence of whim, but rather an enobling of ordinary need…”
And from the same article, a spot-on similie:
“The fog was thick and white, and the car drove blindly through it. Tree branches flashed in and out of view like scratches on blank film.”