HAAA!

Put those faeces in your face and smoke 'em, vianegativa and alfaboy!

Noam Chimpsky is a Brain-Eating Howler Monkey with a Battle Rating of 9.5.
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Food update

I found a complaint in a journal I was browsing that nobody here talks about food. My first thought was, "You've never read me, have you?" Then I realised that if anyone is reading these entries for the food, they've had quite a dry spell lately.

So, back to front: Sushi at Green Tea last night, accompanied by an odd Japanese soda called Komatsu GL. I wish I could find an illustration of the bottle; it's sealed with a little blue plastic ball that you have to punch into the bottle (GENTLY, as I discovered to my cost). I saved it for show 'n' tell at some future date. The taste is mild and citrusy, though after a few sips, Chef Jeff convinced me to let him put in a few drops of some Thai flavouring that looks like iodine and taste like, hmm, that brand of flowery purple gum I picked up with welcomerain present. Only with more aftertaste.

The night before, after his class, Monshu and I ate again at Riques. Mmmm...good cheap mole, tampiqueña, and a tamarind Jarrito.

Monday was master sauce pork and chicken with two dipping sauces (we were both feeling lazy) and vegetable stir-fry. Sunday, I tried my hand at risotto and got impatient; I served it when I thought it was al dente and what it really was was underdone. Mom and bunj were both polite, but neither went back for seconds. The baked chicken was also a little dry despite swimming in Gardini Caesar dressing and, the night before, the broiled pork chops were also drier than I might have liked. sigh Fortunately, lunch every day we were there was some excellent cold cuts from the Italian deli: capicola, soprassata, cacio cavallo napolitano, etc. and dessert every night was ice cream doused in Frangelico.

Thursday before I left, I had a fine meal of enchiladas suizas at Tarrasca's--though the chorizo was surprisingly unchorizy. That week was good: Schnitzel at the Berghoff, deep-fried prawns with bacon at A Taste of Thai, pork chops at Monshu's.

La Guerra Loca, another Talk to Muckefuck™ Story

So, Monday before last. I'm feeling bleary and out-of-it, despite sleeping in all morning. After waiting interminably to get a prescription refill at my local drugstore, I hop aboard a crowded 36 and take a seat near the front. Several stops later, as I see more elderly folks piling in, I remove myself to the back and plop down next to a short, stout, young Mexican in a Guadalajara soccer jersey.

Almost immediately, he begins asking me what I think about the war. I do my best to keep my replies brief and vague. How can I possibility go into all the intricacies of the situation during a short bus trip? Then he asks me, what about North Korea? His accent is heavy; I try intermittently to speak in Spanish, but my head is too cloudy, it's coming out all garbled. I end up saying, "No lo sé" a lot. At one point, he explains--in Spanish--that he finds it too conspicuous to speak it on the bus. After a while, I decide that turnabout is fair play, so I ask him what he thinks of Chávez and the situation in Venezuela. From what I can sort out between his accent and the ambient noise, he thinks it short-sighted of Chávez to throw his lot in with an international pariah like Cuba.

He asks me where I work, I tell him, he tells me he works at a nearby sushi restaurant. Before he gets off, he says that he doesn't normally talk to people on the bus like this and we shake hands. It's only then that I wonder if he may have been hitting on me.

Recent personal midnight movies

Last week's memorable dreams:

• I'm in some sort of dance club. "Kung Fu Fighting" is playing and most of the people are dancing to it, but my friends and I don't know the steps. Suddenly, I realise there are actual martial artists hidden among the dancers and me and my female companion become Hong Kong action stars who pummel the hell out of them when they treacherously attack us.
• I am at the world cricket championships, which are being held in a small town in Arkansas because--in a major upset which shook the cricket world to its wickets--their team was one of two American teams that made it into the playoffs. The other is from someplace like Wyoming. I eventually realise that this an underdog sports film, which means that the AK team will probably take the trophy in another spectacular upset.
• I wake up. Monshu has already left for work. It's raining outside and I wish I could stay here all day, but I have to go to work, too. Wandering around, I wonder why Monshu doesn't spend all his time in this condo, since it's bigger and nicer than his one-bedroom. Then it dawns on me that this place isn't his, it's his ex-boyfriend's. Next thing I know, I hear someone coming. I look for a place to hide, but there is none. The ex comes into the back bedroom and sees me; he looks resigned and downcast as I awkwardly mumble an apology. Perhaps only the fact that he has a female friend with him keeps him from laying into me. I know I should flee, but I'm too greasy and grubby to go to work like this; I must shower. I'm about to step in when I hear a knock at the door; it's the ex's father and he needs to use the bathroom. I decide to say "fuckit", get dressed, and get the hell out of there, but I can't find my socks.

Friendship is...cleaning up the messes

Apropos of something rollick asked me about:

During my second year of college, I had a tight group of friends, most of whom lived in the same dormitory as I did or the female-sex one adjoining it. One evening, my friend Janet and I walked into the main lounge of the dorm and saw that it had been trashed. We began speculating about who would be asshole enough to rip up the newspapers that were paid for from dorm funds and left for public perusal and fling them all over the room.

When we reached the center of the room, we could see around the corner to where one of our mutual friends was sitting on a window seat, seething. Our conversation stopped cold. Without a word, Janet and I cleaned up every last bit of newspaper and left the room. Only later, when he was calmer, did our friend catch up with us and explain what had made him so furious.

I've drifted apart from both of them over the years; they can't really be called "friends" any more. But the incident stands out in my mind as an example of what we do for our friends. Once we knew a friend of ours was involved, our reproaches ceased; without even asking him, we assumed he had a good reason for his behaviour. Without dissent or complaint, we did what we could to make the situation better.