Friday, February 24, 2012

Procrastination Station

Every time I have to finish a book that seems so long that a speed-reading super hero couldn't finish it by Christmas, I get a bug up my butt about this blog. So I wasted two hours futzing around with it today. Now I'm mad at myself because I still have roughly a million pages to read in The Octopus, which is actually an awesome book you should read, and I still haven't taken a shower. My dog and I have just been snuggling on the couch, breathing on each other, and stewing in one another's stinks. I know how aroused you must be. Try not to make love to your computer screen.

Then I think about this blog. I'm bad at it. My last post was three weeks ago. I post some nonsense, and then I pat myself on the back, and then I wait for my check for $0 from the Internet, and then I completely forget I even have a blog. Plus, during my two-hour life-wasting session today, I discovered that there are really only two schools of lifestyle bloggers: the super-stylish/so-hip-it-hurts/graphic-designer-artist-photographer/beautiful-person kind that makes me feel bad about myself, and the kind where you give everyone in your family a code name and post pictures of all your meals, outfits, crafts, and naked babies. Not that either of these types are bad, just that neither of these types are me.

Here's the truth. Are you ready? OK. Me, too. My life is not interesting enough for you to want to read about it. So what are you still doing here, mom? 

I don't have any babies to take pictures of. But I do have a picture of this cookie...



which I had to buy last Tuesday when I was working at Yolk so that I could go spy on Joseph Gordon-Levitt at LAMILL. I didn't want to look like a total psycho, so couldn't walk out of there empty-handed.

It was delicious. But perhaps (and Rob and I agree on this) not as delicious as Joseph Gordon-Levitt.



Saturday, February 4, 2012

Give Brandon the Finger!

When I was in high school, my best friend was a dude. He was a cool dude with rad hair and and sweet skate shoes and, most awesomely, he played in rock bands. After high school, he became this insanely magnificent classical guitarist (in addition to being in this sweet band) and I couldn't be more proud if he had learned to conjure bacon strips out of thin air.

Problem is, he sliced his right index finger off in a tragic table saw accident. I know. It's dreadful. It makes me scrunch my face and clench my thighs when I think about it. But since he's such a stud, he's been playing the guitar this whole time anyway. And now he's got this cool music career and this beautiful wife and all he needs is a prosthetic finger so he can get back to playing all the crazy, fingerpicking tunes he played before.

And you can help!

Go this blog, head over to the donate page, and send Brandon some ducats to buy his $3000 "carbon-fiber finger fragment". Please. It would be so very decent of you. If you're anywhere near Salt Lake City, you might could even go to the Give Brandon the Finger Benefit Concert (more info on that here).

Thanks for always helping my friends. You guys are the best.

Thursday, February 2, 2012

¿Como se dice "gluten-free" en Español?

Picture this:

Me, doing my teacherly duties and discussing current food trends with my students: gluten-free diets, veganism, freeganism, foraging, local food movements, and the like. It takes me a minute, but I realize that they are just staring at me, glassy-eyed.

"Wait...you guys do know about the these food trends, right?" I ask.


Nothing.

"Where do you all shop? Whole Foods? No way. Nobody shops there. Too expensive. Trader Joe's? Ralph's? Vons?"

Nothing.

Then one girl says, with excessive matter-of-factness, "We shop at Mexican stores". And they all laugh.

Duh. I have never felt so white.


"Wow. You guys. I feel so white," I say and they laugh.

"I feel so Mexican" says the same clever girl.

It kills.

Fade out.