OWGA or OWILGA?

I wouldn't say I'm hungry, but I just spent a couple minutes looking for the other breakfast burrito after I'd already eaten both and thrown away the container. I'm real clever like that.

So there's this dumpy furball I've sort of had an eye on all year. He's rather short and fortyish, with salt-and-pepper hair, and a full beard. Kinda looks hispanic. In any case, he generally arrives first thing in the morning, plops in front of a PC, and spends the day typing away. I've always assumed he was, like, a visiting professor or something and didn't have a machine at home. Yesterday, as I was leaving the nearby cafe, he said "Good morning" to me in a disarmingly familiar way. Then, during my shift in the afternoon, he passed by and said, "Bye now!" I felt like saying, "Have we been introduced?"

I remarked on this to my coworker and he said, "Ohh...Chat Man."

What? Turns out he spends all his time at the computer chatting away on three IRC channels. Lady Lu finally had to explain to him that, really, the machines are intended for research, not recreation. So he promptly moved to a machine upstairs and pulled a chair in front of it. During lunch, she had someone put a sign on it that said, "This machine is intended for handicapped patrons" (which it is, that being the reason why it's set up so low), so he moved to the next one over and did his chatting standing.

Today, I passed him in the cafe, sitting alone at a table with one free chair. I had my food in hand; it was a perfect opportunity to sit down and strike up a conversation. After all, this is someone I've had a low-level interest in for a long time. But having my illusions about his activities demystified just sapped my enthusiasm. On the one hand, I've got a weakness for shy, vulnerable-seeming, undersocialised older bears who look like they just need a little boost to their confidence. On the other hand, Freaks Need Not Apply.

So I walked on by, thinking that I'll continue to respond to his greetings, but I probably don't want to give him much more encouragement than that. Will I regret that if he never comes back?

Likely superfluous pimping

rollick wrote:

I sampled it. It was like eating liquid confectioner's sugar straight out of the bag, with a vile, generically sweet aftertaste mixed in. It might be artificial pumpkin. It might be artificial caviar. It might be authentic Special Spicy Ass. Who knows? It tasted like the death of all hope, plus Pop Rocks.

What is she talking about? Find out here!

Today is Berlioz' 200th birthday and I wish I had a copy of his Nuits d'été. In fact, I wish I had the specific copy that Nuphy first played for me. It is ravishingly gorgeous music and it sounded as fresh to me then as it must've to the listeners at its premier in 1830. The man was an original genius who the world just wasn't ready for. Some parts of it still aren't: Lyric had originally planned a production of Les Troyens for this season and then, when they started to fear it wouldn't be well-attended, replaced it with--of all things--Pirates of Penzance.

Oh, and my promise to you: I will not post a link to my Friend Test, not now or ever. I don't care if any of you can't tell me from faeriecat as long as you continue to give me stuff.

Kleine Frage bzgl. der Oper

Warum hat der Mephistopheles in der Aufführung von Marguerite letzte Woche nicht ausgesehen wie:?

Auf der Spur nach der Weihnachtsgurke

Der Tag nach dem Erntedankfest war ein Zauberhafter: Der erste richtige Schneefall, der erste Festschmuck an den Löwen vor dem Art Institute, und der erste Besuch auf dem Christkindlmarkt. monshu und ich war auf dem Jagd nach einem netten Geschenkle für seinen Chef--geschmackvoll, apart, nicht zu teuer. Vielleicht eine handgefertigte Christbaumkugel?

Wir gingen zuerst ins Käthe-Wohlfahrt-Zelt, aber dort gab es nichts Passendes. (Für den Chef, mein ich. Ich fand eine kuriöse Darstellung vom nackten Weihnachtsmann in einer Wanne samt Renntier, die ich eventuell kaufen muß.) Später gerieten wir in einen Lauschaer Christbaumschmuckladen, wo wir gezwungen worden sind, uns durch den ganzen Kram in einer ganz bestimmten Bahn zu wenden. Bald begneten wir eine Kiste krumme, grüne Glasornamente. Auf dem winzigen Schildchen stand Weihnachtsgurken und die sahen tatsächlich wie falsche Minigurken aus. Da mußte ich gackern. Was für 'nen albernen deutschen Brauch war das? Ich mußte dem monshu gestehen, ich habe wirklich keine Ahnung. Auf der andere Seite gab es noch eine Kiste, diesmals mit dem Etikett auf englisch: Christmaspickel. Es war wirklich kein Irrtum! Wir entschlossen uns, die Sache sofort nachzuschlagen, sobald wir nach Hause kämen.

Unsere erste Google-Suche nach "Weihnachtsgurken" erzeugte nur vier Treffer, keiner davon sehr erläuternd. Mit "Christmas Pickle" aber ging es wohl anderswie. 113,000 Webseiten! Am Ersten wurde uns erklärt:

In Old World Germany, the last decoration placed on the Christmas Tree was always a pickle. It was carefully hidden deep in the boughs of the tree. Legend has it that the observant child who found it on Christmas Day was blessed with a year of good fortune and a special gift.

Meine Ahnen auf beiden Seiten sind deutsch und meine Familie hat mehrere "altweltliche" Bräuche aufbewahrt. Zum Beispiel, wir Kinder waren immer erlaubt, je ein Geschenk am Heiligabend auszuwickeln. Aber Gurken gab es halt nie in unserem Weihnachtsbäumen!

Die nächste Website versuchte eine Anknüpfung an die Legende vom Heiligen Niklaus und die drei Jungen im Pökelfass. (Kennt Ihr sie nicht? Ihr könnt die Geschichte auf dieser Website lesen. Sieht "Nikolaus von Myra" unter "Biographien".) Hier erschien auch die lächerlichste Wende zur Zeit:

In a small Michigan community of two thousand, called Berrien Springs, an annual Christmas Pickle Festival is held during the early part of December. The older generation from Berrien Springs recall from their youth always having pickles on their trees. With this area of Michigan being a pickle-producing region, Berrien Springs is recognized as the Christmas Pickle Capital of the World by the Pickle Packers International. They celebrate with a parade kickoff led by the Grand Dillmeister, who passes out fresh pickles along the parade route. A Christmas Pickle Ornament can be purchased from the Museum Store, or for the more adventurous, even a pair of gurken earrings or Chocolate-Covered Sweet Pickles can be had. For more information regarding the Berrien Country Historical Society, please see their official web site.

Leider funktioniert die Link zur "Official Site" nicht! Vertrauenswiederherstellend, was? Keine Idee so deppert, dass ein Amerikaner daraus Nutzen nicht ziehen kann!

Aber woher stammt die Idee? Ein deutscher Ursprung scheint immer unwahrscheinlicher. Endlich lasen wir etwas Vernünftiges. Und die Spur führt wieder nach Chicago und unserem einzigen Christkindlmarkt:

THEN.... Much to my chagrin I visited the Christmas market in Chicago last year or ... Was it the year before, but anyway, there I saw "THE PICKLE". You can imagine how mortified I was to see this. So I went up to one of the sales girls and asked in English. She gave me the same story we all have been reading. Now, this shop was from Zwiesel!!! They had never had it before. So, being further frustrated, I went up the to the "manager" of the booth and asked him in German. He rather hemmed and hawed, and then added " Well, it sells and makes money."

Hmm...vielleicht unterscheiden sich die Deutschen doch nicht so sehr von den Amerikanern. Die Kaufmannschaft ist überall das Gleiche--besonders zur Weihnachtszeit!

Und die Weihnachtsgurke? Ihr wisst bestimmt, dass es dieses Jahr eine am Weihnachtsbaum meiner Schwester geben wird. Wie kann ich die Gelegenheit ablehnen, eine doofe neue pseudo-deutsche Tradition in den Familiensitz einzuführen?