Flight vs. Invisibility

I just heard the repeat of an old "This American Life" episode in which people are asked if they would choose flight or invisibility as their superpower of choice. When it comes down to it, supposedly, everyone who says they would choose flight is lying to themselves and really we'd all just rather be invisible so we could steal shit and look at other people naked. I always thought I'd definitely be someone who would choose flight, but I have come to realize I'm not so sure.

Sometimes I think Facebook is kind of like an invisibility machine, in a way. You get to peer into the lives of people from your past, or their friends, or their friends' friends, or random people who would probably be wondering why the hell you know where they went to college or what kind of shoes they just bought to wear to their cousin's wedding. It can be a little creepy. One minute you're looking up an old high school friend and the next you're gazing at a photo of a horrible ex-boyfriend's adorable children and wondering why he deserves such a perfect-looking family. I think this is why I could never handle the power of invisibility if I was given it, and also why I shouldn't spend too much time on Facebook.

Romper Room

I am so glad this issue has been resolved.

Continuing Obsession: Vintage Swimwear

As a child, I generally got one swimsuit per summer. Sometimes my mom sewed them herself, and they were pretty cute. As time went on, my poolside fashion depended on the shape I was in and what I wanted to cover up. I had a brief five-year period when I could show off my skinny lil' self in skimpy two-pieces (far from my mother's disapproving glare, of course), but those days have come and gone.

In college, I discovered that Southern California girls own more than just one bathing suit -- you had several different suits for lying out, dipping in the pool, hot tubbing, actually swimming, etc. Suddenly I owned a suitcase full of bathing suits, many of them vintage ones scored from rummage sales and thrift stores in Santa Barbara. Naturally the suitcase was vintage as well. Some people have an "ick" factor when it comes to buying vintage (a.k.a. "used") swimwear, but I don't really care. Just wash it in hot water and it's fine, I think.

Besides, who would want to look like this:

when you could look like this:

??

I Want...

1) Every pair of these chappals from Tribal Route in Bombay (I already own the ones pictured here).

2) This scene to magically happen in front of me, or better yet STARRING me.

3) These outfits.

4) To stay at this hotel.

I can dream, right? Out of these, the chappals might become a reality. But who knows? I'm keeping my fingers crossed.

Reason #147 Why I Amuse Myself

I woke up yesterday with a crazy migraine. All day at work I thought the migraine had somehow cured my vision and I no longer needed glasses, because my vision was blurred when I put my glasses on, but was perfect when I took them off. It wasn't until I was driving home that I realized I had my contacts in.

I Have No Patience For Your Impatience

Ugh. This morning a traffic construction guy told me to "Move, you're holding up traffic," as I asked him a simple question. I snapped at him. Totally unlike me.

All day I was amazed by my students' inability to have patience or compassion for each other.

Then a guy yelled at me for having parked in his spot for five minutes. I snapped again.

I wish people's immediate response to every situation weren't hostility.

Beets Me

Like dhania and beer before them, beets are something I never thought I'd enjoy. I always thought they tasted like dirt. They still do. It's just that I'm into them now.

Maybe it's because they are the new spinach, or perhaps it's their amazing color which makes it look like you've just performed surgery in your kitchen when you cut them, but something's got me loving beets.

Effed by Comcast, Yet Again

Wow. Just when I thought Comcast "Customer Service" could not get any more ridiculous, along comes this craziness:

I get an email from Comcast saying my statement is available online. I click on the link in the email and am prompted to enter my user-name. Underneath the box for user-name it says "Your user-name is your email address." So I enter my email address (the one to which they had sent the message about my bill).

Then it says, "Invalid user-name." So I try another user-name, which is not an email address, just my last name. This one works, and I am then prompted to enter my password. Whenever I try to do this, it automatically decides my user-name should be followed by "@comcast.net". I don't have a Comcast email account, so I can't figure out why it keeps doing this.

It keeps telling me that the password is invalid. So I click on "I forgot my user-name and password." It then prompts me to enter my phone number, and tells me the email associated with the account is "xxxxxxx(user-name)@comcast.net". So I try again, and click "I forgot my password." Now it tells me "There is no password associated with the account."

NO SHIT. THAT'S BECAUSE I NEVER CREATED THIS USER-NAME. YOU FREAKING MADE IT UP. HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO LOG IN IF YOU RE-SET MY USER-NAME AND I HAVE NO PASSWORD?

So it then says, "click here to chat live with a customer service representative." So I click, and then I get a message saying, "There seems to be an unusually long wait to chat with a service representative. Try calling 1-800-COMCAST."

F you, Comcast. I hate your guts.

Efficiency = Bliss

Just ask JSS -- I love being organized and efficient. A relaxing day to me is cleaning out my closet. It drives him crazy, but I just can't stand it when things are out of place, or there are tasks that need to be done, and I can't take care of them RIGHT NOW.

Please note, this does not apply to grading papers, or doing any other kind of work-related shtuff, when I am not at work. While at work, I am a model of efficiency, but I can't even look at that stuff when I'm home.

Today's task, perfect for a late-winter holiday, was organizing my recipes into a binder, complete with tabs for different types of food (appetizers, salads, pastas, soups, main dishes, breads, and desserts).

I feel great!

Two of my favorite Wikipedia entries

1) http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Indian_English

2) http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cuteness_in_Japanese_culture

Cook It Up

I purchased this cast iron casserole at Macy's today on the advice of a 50-something biker guy with multiple safety pins piercing his eyebrow. I am hoping to make this Japanese curry tonight, though there's no way it can compete with my friend AF's version.

The reason for this sudden burst of cooking energy is partly due to the Christmas gift JSS got me -- a subscription to Farm Fresh to You, which has sent us butternut squashes two boxes in a row. We've managed to make good use of the rest of the produce (lots of salads, plus potato leek soup and aloo gobi), but those butternuts have just been sitting around.

The evidence is in the photo.

When Peace is Insufficient

Baby, It's Cold Outside

My friend commented on how she often sees JSS while walking around the 'hood, but she never sees me.

Earlier today I decided to walk to the drugstore, by way of the farmer's market, and enjoy the usual Saturday morning energy (lots of Maclaren strollers, multiracial families, and reusable shopping bags).

Ten minutes into my stroll, headphones blasting the Bach Cello Suites, watching a woman juggling hula hoops, and some scummy guy sidles up next to me and starts babbling things like, "So what's up wid'it, little mama? How's about you and me trying to make it happen?" I was like, "Uh...you're quite a charmer, but I have a husband." He was undeterred until I finally sped up into the crowd.

Soon after that, a bird shit on my head.

This is why I'm generally inside the house watching 'Mad Men.'