Tag: observations

My Buddy

The March/April edition of Mental Floss has an awesome article on parasites. One kind attaches itself to the tongue of a fish, feeding off the blood supply until the fish’s tongue drops off. Then the parasite serves as a surrogate tongue..

Just as good is the female Sacculina, which starts out as a sluglike thing floating around in the water. It finds a crab, and then stabs one of the crab’s joints with a dagger-like appendage. The Sacculina ooooozes into the crab through the hollow dagger, leaving an empty shell outside. Once inside the crab, the gooey parasite takes root, wrapping around the crab’s eyestalks and legs, growing until a little bit of it pops out of the crab’s shell. Then it begins to steer the crab wherever it wants to go. (“Sacculina! You’ve just successfully overtaken over the body of a crab, thereby ensuring propagation of your larvae! What are you doing next?”)

Sort of makes intestinal worms seem cuddly.

You’re Disgusting

I was reading an article recently about the recent surge in the market for pre-sliced apples (in the New Yorker, maybe?). They’re preserved in some kind of healthy goo that keeps them from turning brown, and the kids love them. The article asked a “Disgust Expert” why people found an empty bag so much more appealing than an apple core. His response was that the bag didn’t have any of you on it.

Pretty

The counter girl is lovely, striking even. She looks serene waiting behind the counter, but as we begin talking, I realize that something isn’t right. She seems a bit like a computer animation too uniform, too shiny. At first I think she’s just wearing too much makeup, but then she laughs and I think it’s something deeper.

Is she upset about something and trying to mask it? Is she slightly nutty and having trouble interacting normally?

As she shows me to what I’m looking for and laughs again, I realize that nothing on her face is moving but the corners of her mouth. The girl’s entire range of emotional expression has been Botoxed into submission. Which, you know, is pretty hot.

This Morning

It’s 7:30 a.m. This young man is wearing a black jean jacket and walking along with his hands in his pockets. When he spots us, he bends at the waist and runs across our path with his head lowered. His hair bounces across his eyes as he jogs. Bryan and I exchange a glance just as the man begins making startled-crow sounds, “CAW! CAW! CAW!”

Once he’s passed, he straightens again and resumes his natural gait.

Rub Some Dirt in it

We hear a radio story about how injuries are way up among kids because the push to excel at competitive team sports is growing.

Me: Screw that. Whatever happened to just going out in the yard and playing? I guess if they really, really want to be on a soccer team or something, but it would suck to shuttle them from event to event so you can feel like they “excel.” They should just be kids; play however they want to play.

Bryan: As long as they win.

Me: Exactly.

San Francisco

-Open containers aren’t a big deal, smoking pot isn’t really a problem, no one gets upset about prostituion. Is anything actually illegal here?

-Violence.

-Parking.

Donuts Aren’t the Same Here

Lessons learned on Impromptu Los Angeles Roadtrip, 2006:

– You’re not as cute in L.A.

– Some people buy matching white sweat suits, with their names in bedazzled scroll script down the sleeves, and wear them to brunch.

– Once seated at a restaurant, everyone should overtly check surrounding tables for possible celebrities.

– Possible celebrities include people like Mickey Rooney’s son.

– Once you see Mickey Rooney’s son, you are required to mention having seen him in approximately 50 percent of your conversations from that moment forward.

I also learned that you should not eat the questionably cooked eggs before a seven-hour road trip in a two-seater, 1974 Volkswagon. Seriously, that’s one to grow on.

Don’t

To the woman in the locker room who is standing in front of the mirror, completely nude, slowly rubbing gym-supplied hand cream on her breasts:

Weird. Would you stop that? It couldn’t be more disturbing if you were taking fistfuls of the hand cream and shoving them in your mouth. The rest of us are unsure of your objective. Is this sexual? Ritualistic? An excessive devotion to silky-soft skin?

Even the women who are into other women are freaked out. We think it’s the way your eyes look a little dead, though we can’t be sure, because none of us can bring ourselves to look directly at you. All of us are looking near you, above you, next to you, trying to ascertain if you are, in fact, doing what we think you’re doing.

Yes. It seems that you are.

Hm… Well… Are you still doing it?

Yep.

Kay. That’s weird… What about now…?

Yes. Even now, you are still doing it.

We are all pretty sure that this if it’s something you enjoy is something that you should enjoy in the comfort of your own home. Please go there so the rest of us can blow dry our hair. Thank you.