More Good News

August 31, 2007 at 1:12 pm (The Albatross)

Now that my social life is progressing in strange and wonderful ways, it seems that my professional career is falling into place, too.   I just got a call for a part-time teaching job.  And not a moment too soon, because I’ve depleted my savings on dating site subscriptions and sexy shoes.

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Riding the Social Science Train

August 27, 2007 at 4:17 pm (The Albatross)

Guess which brilliant young (ahem) anthropologist will be presenting a paper about social and geographic exclusion in the Parisian public transportation system at the AAA annual meeting.  (Hint: she is too full of social science.)   Washington, DC, here I come!

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Menu

August 26, 2007 at 6:40 pm (Uncategorized)

Handwritten on a white board at the Jamaican restaurant where I bought an unsatisfactory beef patty and a microwaved coco bread:

Today’s Soup of the? Day (sic)

Goat Head or Chicken Noodle

delicious soup

Also advertized was a meal featuring cow skin and tripe.  The man on line ahead of me ordered it, and was charged double for his dish, because, as the woman behind the counter explained, cow skin and tripe are two meats, not one.

This is a bad restaurant.  I’ll do my Caribbean foraging on Burke Ave. from now on.  (Yes, I know Faroza’s is awesome, but I was in the mood for Jamaican, not Trinidadian food.  Yes, I know I’m a traitor.)

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Detritus

August 23, 2007 at 12:03 pm (Uncategorized)

It is official, my mother is selling the house next door.  This is a good thing, because the house had become a financial burden, and was also uninhabitable for a long time.  But now I have to clear out all my stuff, which I am not looking forward to doing.  Most of the stuff I don’t need, and she’d paid for a service to take out most of the unwanted things.  But there are some boxes and bins that I just don’t know what to do with.  I cannot fit anything else into the wee adult apartment.  But I don’t want to throw out everything wholesale without going through it all.  And yet, I have not the energy nor the motivation to deal with it.

So, I am trying to reframe this unpleasant chore in terms of the new adult life I am trying to enjoy.  Come on, Quiconque, don’t you want to enjoy your 38th year on the planet unencumbered by clutter and nonsense?  Yes, you do.   You’ve got a sleek little streamlined apartment, a reliable nondescript car, a good job, and a burgeoning sex life.  You do not need old toys, mildewed books, and broken costume jewelry.  Throw that stuff out. 

Besides, you’ll need the space for the new shoe fetish you’ve decided to adopt.  Meet my latest acquisition.  It just screams “sexy librarian.”

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Hot Date Tonight

August 21, 2007 at 3:07 pm (Dating)

Perhaps the third time is the charm.

My only hesitation: my suitor looks very, very young in his pictures.  I hope this isn’t a Dateline sting.

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It’s No Fun Unless Someone Gets a Black Eye

August 21, 2007 at 1:04 pm (Entertainment)

Caught the Bishop Allen show on Saturday with the ConTessa.  Bishop Allen played last after a long lineup.  My favorite of the intro acts was Mobius Band, of course.  Bishop Allen were clearly the stars of the show, and it was worth waiting 3 hours for their set. 

Long haired hipsters and women in unflattering ’80s-themed knits abounded.  The catch phrase for the evening was “mutton dressed as lamb.”  There was also a skeevy old man who kept “accidentally” bumping into young women throughout the night.  Ugh.

On our way out, after the performance, some drunken tart clocked the ConTessa in the eye with her elbow.   The tart offered no apology, and we hightailed it out of there before there was another “Quiconque punched a stranger in the neck” episode.

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Well, We Achieved the “Drunken” Part….

August 17, 2007 at 11:41 am (Uncategorized)

First of all, I want to thank everyone who came out to celebrate my birthday last night: La Belle Helene, SuperFudge, Count Basie, Tenfeet, the ConTessa, La Gentille, the Thin Man, my assistant (who has yet to get a moniker on this page), and her partner, Top Chef.  I had a wonderful time.  You all were so very nice and indulgent, buying me food and drink and listening to my silly stories, most of which many of you had heard several times before.  I also want to thank CandiPearl for being my first-ever drunk dial.  I know I was losing coherence toward the end of that conversation, and your gentle suggestion that I get some sleep was appreciated.

First stop, soul food on 140th Street.  Chicken and waffles and a mojito to start the night off.  Really tasty.  I had to teach the ConTessa how to pronounce “collard greens.”   Our waiter was a little slow (CPT?) but the food was worth it.  When the time came to pay, La Belle Helene insisted on taking care of the bill.  ConTessa now calls her the Tiny Tyrant. 

My goal of singing karaoke was thwarted, because the place messed up our reservations and told some of my guests that we had already left, which was a LIE.   When we got there, the staff scrambled around to accommodate our party, but I quickly discovered that the place had misrepresented itself in its website.  Online, it appears to be a hip and shiny place where pretty girls and boys bop along to Culture Club and Duran Duran.  In fact, the place is a glorified sports bar where middle-aged men do body shots off much younger women and sing John Cougar Mellencamp.  There was very little karaoke and much talking, bingo, and trivia contests.  The prizes were retarded, acc. to the Thin Man.  So, we left and headed downtown to our favorite local….

…Where we were treated like royalty.  The whisky and gin were flowing, the chocolate truffle cake was decadently rich, and my companions were the best in the world.  By the way, I looked fantastic, and was rocking the sex shoes (which I learned are a little difficult to walk in.  So, I was also rocking the dowdy flats as the evening wore on).

I was even chatted up in the street by an adorable queen!  La Gentille and I were in front of the bar enjoying a nicotine moment when a cute little boy walked by and shouted out to us, “Today is my birthday!  I’m 30 today!”  To which I replied, “Today is my birthday.  I am 37 today!”  We embraced, he showed me his birthday candle (dirty!), and we exchanged numbers.  He also handed me his phone so I could talk to his boyfriend.  And then, bless his heart, he said to me, “You look fabulous!  Your skin is lovely!”

So, despite our early disappointment, the night was amazing.  Now, I have to admit that I may have behaved inappropriately.  I don’t know if I should have circulated the picture of how awesome my ass looks when I wear the magic sex shoes.  My assistant has probably lost all respect for me.  But as the Outkast song says, “I don’t care.  It was my birthday, anyway!”

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Turn Around, Bright Eyes

August 16, 2007 at 4:32 pm (Uncategorized)

Drunken ’80s karaoke tonight!!!  I am so looking forward to it.   I have no idea what to sing (and some of our party are adamant about not singing).  Madonna?  It’s her birthday, too, after all.  But that’s too obvious, don’t you think?  The Smiths?  A little melancholy for a birthday celebration.  Duran Duran?  Absolutely singable in terms of my range, impossible to remember the words because the lyrics are nonsensical.

I think I need to bring back some obscurely Old School shit, like DeBarge or Stacy Lattisaw.   Or Bonnie Tyler.  Duet, anyone?

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Go Shawty, It’s My Birthday!

August 16, 2007 at 9:34 am (Uncategorized)

Married To The Sea
marriedtothesea.com

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Look before You Leap

August 15, 2007 at 1:51 pm (Uncategorized)

I thought my first date was bad, what with the missing tooth and the roast chicken bits flying into the gigantic girl-drink, but this guy had it much, much worse.

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/20244273/?GT1=10252

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