Wednesday, September 08, 2004
Miscellany
The new Real World debuted last night. I like the Real World, sometimes, because I'm basically a 12-year-old girl. I always lose interest about five or six episodes in, but that's pretty much true of everything, including my own life. This Real World is in Philiadelphia, so I'm sure it's going to have a whole "birth of our nation" feel to it, in addition to the fourgies. Anyway, there's two of everything in this Real World: two black people, two girls who claim to be "bad" but merely seem to be trying too hard, two gay people, two insanely muscular guys with identical David Hasselhof haircuts. They were actually thinking about having this Real World on an ark, but they couldn't get the right permits. Write your Congressman!
I've decided that my favorite food is any food smothered in something else. Think about it. French fries are okay -- sort of tasty, apparently less supportive of the war effort than tuber products ought to be, nothing too special -- until you smother them in cheese and, wow, they're amazing! Or ice cream -- it's fine, kind of fun to purchase from a truck, perhaps not worth the cold headache -- until you smother it in chocolate, and damn, that's some good eatin'! And I don't believe there's any food that can't be improved by smothering it in gravy.
I'm told the effects of smothering are somewhat less favorable with people.
The biggest news in my corner of the world is that I brought my viola back to my apartment with me. Yup, just when you thought I couldn't get any sexier, I'm a viola player. Plus I speak German. Isn't that cuddly? But anyway, I'm very excited to think that I can retaliate against our downstairs neighbors for their constant loud sex noises by playing me some out-of-tune Handel at high volume. If they're really annoying, I'll bring out some atonal shit that makes Bjork look like Cole Porter (I'm not talking physical resemblance -- clearly, that is already there). Short of actually burning down the building, I'm not sure they can top that.
The new Real World debuted last night. I like the Real World, sometimes, because I'm basically a 12-year-old girl. I always lose interest about five or six episodes in, but that's pretty much true of everything, including my own life. This Real World is in Philiadelphia, so I'm sure it's going to have a whole "birth of our nation" feel to it, in addition to the fourgies. Anyway, there's two of everything in this Real World: two black people, two girls who claim to be "bad" but merely seem to be trying too hard, two gay people, two insanely muscular guys with identical David Hasselhof haircuts. They were actually thinking about having this Real World on an ark, but they couldn't get the right permits. Write your Congressman!
I've decided that my favorite food is any food smothered in something else. Think about it. French fries are okay -- sort of tasty, apparently less supportive of the war effort than tuber products ought to be, nothing too special -- until you smother them in cheese and, wow, they're amazing! Or ice cream -- it's fine, kind of fun to purchase from a truck, perhaps not worth the cold headache -- until you smother it in chocolate, and damn, that's some good eatin'! And I don't believe there's any food that can't be improved by smothering it in gravy.
I'm told the effects of smothering are somewhat less favorable with people.
The biggest news in my corner of the world is that I brought my viola back to my apartment with me. Yup, just when you thought I couldn't get any sexier, I'm a viola player. Plus I speak German. Isn't that cuddly? But anyway, I'm very excited to think that I can retaliate against our downstairs neighbors for their constant loud sex noises by playing me some out-of-tune Handel at high volume. If they're really annoying, I'll bring out some atonal shit that makes Bjork look like Cole Porter (I'm not talking physical resemblance -- clearly, that is already there). Short of actually burning down the building, I'm not sure they can top that.
