Oh So Satisfying

October 30, 2007 at 3:30 pm (Work)

Yesterday, during my lesson on exchange and consumption, I was discussing potlatch with my class.  One young woman piped up, “Oh, that’s just like when Oprah gives away cars and diamonds on her show.”

It’s lovely when the students actually get it.


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Imaginary Boyfriend or The Worst Birthday Party Ever

October 28, 2007 at 6:33 pm (Dating)

Not only was the man I’ve been seeing too sick to attend his birthday party last night, a birthday party that took three weeks, the labor of three households, and the equivalent of two week’s teaching pay to plan, but he gave his friends the wrong address.   I was expecting about 15-20 guests.  Only eight people showed up.  Lucky for me those eight people are the BEST people in the world.  His friends went to Jorje’s party on the first floor.  Apparently they had a nice time (and no one wondered that neither the hostess nor the guest of honor at the party they were supposed to have attended was named Jorje!).  But they could not have had THAT good a time, because they did not get to meet me and my fabulous friends.  Alas for them.

So, yes, this was the worst birthday party ever.  And I’m glad I only woke up at 4:30 a.m. to make lasagne, and didn’t extend myself even further to make two batches of cream-filled cupcakes in addition to the pork roast with chimichurri sauce (thanks, Mommy), roasted sweet potatoes, salad, and hot appetizers I served.  Good thing The Assistant suggested two weeks ago that I turn the party into a Halloween party.  That way my guests had something else to focus on besides the missing birthday boy (who did not get to wear the crown and faux ermine robe I bought him).

This was a great Halloween party.  Top Chef and The Assistant dressed as Head Chef and Sous Chef.  Irmaturd from work came as Charlie Chaplin.  SuperFudge was a Latina Pirate.  La Belle Helene was The Undead, a look we all encouraged her to repeat for her wedding photos.  Ten Feet and her friend, First Man, came as the ultimate nerd concept costume–Sodium and Chlorine, and kept passing an electron back and forth throughout the night.  Yours truly was Athena, goddess of war and wisdom, and was rocking an awesome plumed helmet.

So, thank you, guests who did show up.   Thank you also for showing up in costume.  It’s good to know that my friends also appreciate the holiday spirit.  Thank you for making me almost pass out from laughter watching your wayward fake teeth shoot across the room.  Thank you for humorous conversations about ionic vs. covalent bonds.  Thank you for random almost-pratfalls, for skeletons in the bathtub, stroopwaffels, and the sight of Ten Feet in my plumed helmet.

I just have to figure out what to do with all the leftovers.

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Disturbing Dreams

October 26, 2007 at 11:25 am (Entertainment, The Albatross)

My subconsious is sending me some pointed messages this week.  Some are obvious.  Some are incredibly cryptic.

Dream 1.  I’m in a room full of intellectual types.  We’re at a conference.  I comment on the presentation that just took place and someone in the audience asks about my own research.  I reply, and she scoffs at me, “Oh, that?  Everyone’s writing about that.  Even people who know nothing about it have books out on the subject now.  So-and-so has written a book, and Blah-de-blah has written some articles.  Everyone and their mother has jumped on this bandwagon.” 

Dream 2.  I’m in a large warehouse store, like Costco or Price Club.  Or maybe it’s a giant Sears.  I’m killing time, waiting for the person I came with to finish whatever it is they’re doing there–either shopping or working, I don’t remember.  What I DO remember is running into Shaquille O’Neal and kissing him by the riding mowers.  I also remember thinking, “This is awful.  I can just hear TragicCrusade saying ‘I told you so!'”  Shaquille O’Neal had very soft lips. [FYI, I have never, ever in my life, had ANY thoughts, romantic or otherwise, about Shaquille O’Neal. ]

Dream 3.  A gangster, a la the Sopranos, in a business suit comes up to me in a public park and starts strangling me in front of scores of onlookers.  I can’t break his grip, and no one responds when I ask them to call 911.

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Rise Up, Philly People!

October 23, 2007 at 9:43 am (Uncategorized)

Apparently, you and your city are considered to be the least attractive in the country.

Read about it here: http://news.yahoo.com/s/nm/20071022/od_nm/philadelphia_unattractive1_dc

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From the Horse’s Mouth

October 20, 2007 at 6:12 pm (Entertainment)

Dumbledore is gay.

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Scary Children’s Programming*

October 18, 2007 at 5:10 pm (Entertainment)

I grew up in the ’70s; so I’m used to children’s television shows looking a little bit like a fun drug trip, but this clip is just too surreal for me.

More disturbing still is this video from the same show featuring Elijah Wood teaching the creatures how to dance. Pay special attention to his face as he sings, “Do the Puppetmaster.” Chilling.

*Thanks to TragicCrusade for bringing this to my attention. I know whom to blame when I have nightmares tonight.

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Online Dating Experiment: Preliminary Results

October 17, 2007 at 4:04 pm (Dating)

The summer is over. 

With fall semester finally in full swing, it’s time for the summer dating experiment to come to a close, or at least take a back seat to more important things like work, writing, my diet and exercise regimen, origami, laundry, whiskey, and sleep.  I canceled all my dating site subscriptions and de-activated my profile on the free sites.  I’m done.  

So, what have I learned?

People don’t read profiles.   I specified strict geographic limits in my profile, but it did not prevent me from getting winks and emails from men in Virginia, Georgia, and Texas.

A good profile is hard to find.  So many profiles are poorly written.  So many profiles are non-existent.  “I’ll tell you later.  Send me a message,” really does not inspire me to contact someone.  Hot pictures are NOT enough.  And then, when you do see a profile that consists of more than three words, chances are it reads like this gem TenFeet encountered.

The line between niche and fetish is very faint and narrow.  I subscribed to a few black sites, and read a lot of profiles from men looking for their “African Queen.”  I kept picturing the sister from “Last Momma on the Couch” in George C. Wolfe’s The Colored Museum.  That is a bit much for me, and I don’t own a headdress.  I also subscribed to a few plus-size sites, figuring that way I’d avoid awkward conversations about my size.  Not true!  Many of the men on those sites had size requirements, and a few of them began conversations with me asking me how big I was.  In many cases I was too small.

Men who really want to date you will make definite plans to meet you, and soon.  I learned this the hard way, after dicking around with the Cad for a few months.  Some people are more comfortable having a cyber-relationship of emails and IMs.  Those people are looking for penpals, even if they don’t come out and say it on their profiles.  Real world love calls for real world dates.

Pay subscription sites are just as good (or crappy, depending on your point of view) as free sites.  And at least free sites like OkCupid.com give you some fun tests to take while you’re browsing through profiles.

If you suspect that you are different from most people in significant ways, stay away from the big clearinghouses like Match.com and Yahoo personals.  There was so much sameness in the profile matches both sites emailed me week after week.  And, none of them were people I’d have chosen myself.

On a related note, I did not do matching services like Chemistry.com (a Match.com offshoot) or Eharmony.  I wanted more control over the process.  Also, those sites are skewed in the men’s favor by sheer numbers.

Dating is messy.  No, I’m not talking about my first date’s table manners.  I’m talking about emotions.  Whoo.  Messy.  Really, I had not cried so much before in my life as I have this summer.  I don’t think I cried this much as an infant.  Yeah, and I’m still crying.

It’s also messy because sometimes you have to give people news they don’t want to hear.  Sometimes you have to try something (someone) out for a few weeks to figure out for sure whether it’s what you want.  And sometimes you discover it’s not what you want, and you have to be a heartbreaker.  And then you cry.  (See preceding paragraph).

Then again, sometimes you find someone quite special, who makes your heart hot and makes you feel like your teeth are gonna fall out of your head.*  And he professes his undying love for you.  And then you cry.

*If you’ve seen Miss Firecracker, you know that these are good things.

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My Own T-Rex Cartoon, starring Quiconque as T-Rex

October 10, 2007 at 2:28 pm (Uncategorized)

Panel 1: Quiconque: “Wrong numbers at work.  What’s up with that?”

Panel 2: “Wrong Numbers: a Dinosaur Comic, starring Quiconque

Panel 3: Quiconque: “Why am I getting all these phone calls at work for other departments?  It’s highly annoying.” [Stomps on log cabin while assistant looks on.]

Panel 4: Crusty the Utahraptor: “Perhaps the purpose of your department is so ill-defined that the operator sends all the wacky calls to you.”

Quiconque: “You are trying to initiate in me some work-related crisis of identity.” [Stomps on new boss.]

Panel 5: Crusty the Utahraptor: “Perhaps no one really knows what your job is.”

Quiconque: “Perhaps my skillz are just so friggin’ awesome that it has now become my job to answer the unanswerable!”

Panel 6: Quiconque: “Oh no, I AM T-Rex.  I need a cheeseburger.”

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Big Words

October 3, 2007 at 3:35 pm (Uncategorized)

This comic speaks to me…..

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