sparks
10.14.03 @ 2:04 p.m.
Last night certainly had it's comic overtones. E* and I ordered a pizza, and me, heartily sick of pepperoni (for all that I have a bag of it in the fridge demanding to be eaten) requested my half be Hawaiian. So when we got said pizza, I said "Oh! E*! You accidentally ordered the whole thing Hawaiian!" She didn't, she told me, and went back to her fast paced phone call (in Mandarin, as usual). In a teasing mood, I wrote "Naughty vegetarian!" on the kitchen white board. Fifteen minutes later I went back to get a drink and "That is no longer my 'identity'" was written under my comment.
Shocking. I, however, am not to blame. She started eating meat in San Jose when adorable little Daniel was picky and she found herself eating hot dogs. (One could snarkily suggest that there is no meat there for her to eat. But one shan't, because one rather enjoys spicy sausage dogs and does not want to be a hypocrite... more than usual.)
The other thing was that I spent quite some time on the phone with my dad discussing, of all things, my protein intake. Like I said a few days ago, there have been times when I've suddenly become aware that I haven't eaten all day. Right now could be one of them, except for the fact that I just wolfed down a hard boiled egg. Last night, to appease the father (who was reading a nutrition book to me over the phone!! "Oh, yeah, milk has protein... Lemmee look it up...") I made a batch of hard boiled eggs. Nothing to do with the fact that the eggs were going to expire if I didn't do something with them, not at all. Like an idiot, I totally forgot HOW one hard boils an egg, but I remember that there was 20 minutes of something involved.
"No!" Dad said. "Five minutes boiling. Haven't you ever heard of a three-minute egg?"
"Of course."
"Well, that's how long you cook it to have the middle still a little runny."
"But I don't want that!"
"Which is why you cook it for those extra two minutes."
Of course. Later I talked to Mom and said "Oh no, my water is boiling!" and I found out where the 20 came from. "Oh," she said, "Turn it off and let them sit for 20 minutes."
It escalated. Mom and I were talking about movies we wanted to see, since I plan on going home next weekend and seeing School of Rock with them, when dad broke in on the extension. "The Joy of Cooking says let them simmer for 15 minutes." Mom was exasperated. "So now we have a third option?" I think it would have continued that way if I hadn't mentioned they'd been boiling for three minutes so I'd just go with the five minute thing and be done with it.
God, I'm such a compelling writer. Hah.
Finally, I had a lenghthy IM chitchat with Slavik (whose blog is linked on the left--Incredibly Pathetic) after I felt compelled to tell him that his last entry was rather revolting but good for him on going to see Carmen. Amusing because he started talking about how horrible opera was when I broke in and told him that I was actually quite fond of them. Haha. It was great. He later reciprocated the digusting comment when I made some passing plot outline of "Pictures of Lily." It was quite fun. And I was laughing, which lead E* to walk by and say "Talking to Slavik?" There must be some difference in how I laugh when I talk to Candace, probably having to do with the fact that with Candace, it's less "hahaha that's funny" than "tee hee, Pete!" Or rather, "tee hee" doesn't come up in Slavik convos.
Whatever. The point is that I highly enjoy all IM conversations. Wheee. I have no outside social life!
Ahem. At the risk of making this mind-numbingly long and boring, I've gotten to the Tommy portion of Moon, which means I'm obsessively listening to the album and picking out drum riffs etc. Though I have to say, the author was bemoaning how people don't see how innovative and what a shock the album was because they're so used to knowing the plot from the Broadway version or the movie. Not fucking everyone! I thought. I can remember the way I listened to the album when I got it, having no prior knowledge (lucky, sheltered me?) of the plot and listening dozens of times to work out my own version of events. I puzzled over whether the lover or the father was the one killed (my inital verdict was that the father was the killer, but then I later thought that the lover would be more willing to exploit Tommy... That, though, came after the movie.) Anyway. I worked it all out myself, nyah to you, Tony Fletcher. It's such an absorbing book, though, and I would suggest that it would be so to those that are not die hard Who fans or even particularly Who fans at all.
Previously
fuck it @ 08.01.05
fanciful imaginary sea voyages to come @ 07.20.05
*dies* @ 07.19.05
more ootp @ 07.17.05
harry potter: driving our children into devil worship @ 07.17.05
