Month: January 2003

Oh Yeah

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.

Time on Your Hands

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.

Prince Albert in a Can

L: I used to work for this company called Emerging Growth Management.

Me: What?

L: It was a financial company.

Me: Oh.

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.

L: Yeah.

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?”

elsewhere

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.

Overheard

I seen you on this bus before. What’s your name?

Alicia.

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?

Oh yeah. I don’t get along with no Virgos. I don’t like them Virgos at all.

Really.

Yeah, my ex-husband’s a Virgo, and he cheated on me.

My ex-wife’s a Virgo, and she cheated on me too!

Really?

Sure ‘nough.

Ha! Can’t trust them Virgos. My fiance’s a Aries. He keeps his hands to himself.

Now Isn’t That Nice?

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.”

Better with Bacon

B: Have you heard of this Go-gurt crap?

L: Yeah.

J: What? What are they talking about?

Me: It’s like yogurt in a tube so you can throw it in your backpack and go!

B: Every time I see those ads, I want everyone involved fired.

Me: Worst idea ever.

L: They should make ranch-flavored. With beef bits.

Me: Aaaaaa. Jerky-ranch.

L: Or with baco-bits. They stay crispy! How do they do that?

Observant

L: I’m taking off my shoes now.

Me: OK.

L: I’ve got some good-looking feet.

Me: You do have good feet. They’re little. What size do you wear?

L: Eight.

Me: Really? They look smaller.

L: I was kidding, but at least all my toes are the right length. You know?

Me: No.

L: I can’t stand the girls who have those extra-long second toes and they still wear sandals.

Me: I have monkey toes.

L: I don’t mean long, I mean uneven.

Me: What?

L: You know what I’m talking about. The second toe is way longer than the first toe, and it’s actually sticking out over the edge of their sandal.

Me: I have never noticed that.

L: You haven’t? Oh my god. It freaks me out. Sometimes both of the next two toes are longer than the big toe. It’s like creepy spider toes crawling out over the edge of the sandal. Yeeeeh. Why would you wear sandals knowing that you have this problem?