Good: Finally, my Drebel came today. Got a crappy 75-300mm f/4-5.6 III (no IS) along with it (not by choice), but it was cheap and I need telephoto. Andrew also threw in his Photoshop Album 2.0 and an extra battery. Haven't ordered my 50 f1.8, will probably get my wide-normal next week. Andrew dropped off the goods with E at work; while carrying it home, some random guy inquired about it at the bus stop. Everybody loves dSLR.
Bad: E's uncle passed away suddenly over the weekend of a heart attack. E's family is coping. Just came back from the viewing; the funeral is tomorrow. It was cold and dark by the time we arrived at the funeral home. There were a fair number of people, clumped in groups, chatting away with light classical music in the background. The mood was oddly cheery, it was very unsettling and surreal. Kids were playing hide-and-seek; some of the grownups had red eyes. The 93 yr old mother, who was still "sharp as a tack", sat by the casket, greeting friends and family. I didn't know him, but when the mother leaned forward to kiss her pale lifeless son one last time, I couldn't hold it in. It was incredibly depressing.
Yummy: Making plans for Turkey Day. This shall be my contribution.
Driving 2+ hrs with the cat tomorrow could be interesting.
11.22.2005
11.21.2005
Bwahaha
Locked doors foil escape
If anything, I linked the article for the picture. Excellent capture. It's like something out of a dream sequence - not as bad as the one where you're walking down the street naked and everyone's staring at you, but close. I'd be blushing bright as a beet. Gotta give him credit for a thick skin and occasional sense of humor.
If anything, I linked the article for the picture. Excellent capture. It's like something out of a dream sequence - not as bad as the one where you're walking down the street naked and everyone's staring at you, but close. I'd be blushing bright as a beet. Gotta give him credit for a thick skin and occasional sense of humor.
11.20.2005
Sore
Oy. Feet hurt, knees ache, ears are ringing. E is wrapped in a blanket and nursing a glass of water. We're getting a little old for this... how sad, so much damage from a single night of fun.
Last night E went to his fraternity formal at a fancy shmancy country club up north. I skipped out to go to Courtney's birthday bash. One year closer to dramatically reduced auto insurance premiums! Anna and Adam came up from Baltimore, Paul invited his law school buds; we converged at Courtney's chic pad and passed around champagne, punch, and finger food. The punch was a cool blue concoction with almost everything in it - reminded me of the giant buckets of Jungle Juice back in the day. Caught up with JM, SP, and MS; work is a bitch, so the story goes. After the cake-cutting and mingling, we headed down to the foyer and piled into two stretch limos.
The best part was not having to wait in line at Matrix - the agent took us past the people freezing in line and waved us through. Went through coat check, got a drink, then hung out in the Velvet room while waiting for the others to settle in. Latin music, red velvet decor, people making out on couches... Got to know the guys in the group a little better (Courtney's cousin and friends). Drinks in hand, we made a beeline towards the action in the next room. Finally got to see Bonics and DJ Goofy Whitekid in person. Courtney got a shout-out.
I got groped by eight dudes - wtf. That broke the all-time record. They clearly didn't see the bling; I would've passed them on to the birthday girl, but she deserved better. At first it just seemed like the dance floor was getting really packed, but hands in the wrong places were no accident. The first guy was old and sleazy, the second was big and beefy. Didn't get to see the faces of the others, but judging from Court and Mel's reactions, I didn't care to. There was even one poor sod in the 80's room, haha. Grinding to Devo isn't exactly hot. Adam, Mike and Eric took turns fishing me out of sticky situations. (E got a laugh when I told him about my close encounters of the breathing-down-the-neck kind.)
At the end of the night, we stumbled back into the limos, toasty and happy. Alicia swore off champagne and kept on babbling about something, in spite of her wardrobe malfunction. Courtney had a blast, that's all that mattered.
Meanwhile, in the land of chicken cordon bleu, E had overpriced Long Island Iced Teas and shots with the guys, followed by a few good games of pong when they got back. He'd forgotten how to hold his drinks, so by the time I picked him up at 3am, he was not quite a staggering mess but his tongue was loose. Irresistibly cute. Stayed up talking till 6am.
Fun times, fun times.
Last night E went to his fraternity formal at a fancy shmancy country club up north. I skipped out to go to Courtney's birthday bash. One year closer to dramatically reduced auto insurance premiums! Anna and Adam came up from Baltimore, Paul invited his law school buds; we converged at Courtney's chic pad and passed around champagne, punch, and finger food. The punch was a cool blue concoction with almost everything in it - reminded me of the giant buckets of Jungle Juice back in the day. Caught up with JM, SP, and MS; work is a bitch, so the story goes. After the cake-cutting and mingling, we headed down to the foyer and piled into two stretch limos.
The best part was not having to wait in line at Matrix - the agent took us past the people freezing in line and waved us through. Went through coat check, got a drink, then hung out in the Velvet room while waiting for the others to settle in. Latin music, red velvet decor, people making out on couches... Got to know the guys in the group a little better (Courtney's cousin and friends). Drinks in hand, we made a beeline towards the action in the next room. Finally got to see Bonics and DJ Goofy Whitekid in person. Courtney got a shout-out.
I got groped by eight dudes - wtf. That broke the all-time record. They clearly didn't see the bling; I would've passed them on to the birthday girl, but she deserved better. At first it just seemed like the dance floor was getting really packed, but hands in the wrong places were no accident. The first guy was old and sleazy, the second was big and beefy. Didn't get to see the faces of the others, but judging from Court and Mel's reactions, I didn't care to. There was even one poor sod in the 80's room, haha. Grinding to Devo isn't exactly hot. Adam, Mike and Eric took turns fishing me out of sticky situations. (E got a laugh when I told him about my close encounters of the breathing-down-the-neck kind.)
At the end of the night, we stumbled back into the limos, toasty and happy. Alicia swore off champagne and kept on babbling about something, in spite of her wardrobe malfunction. Courtney had a blast, that's all that mattered.
Meanwhile, in the land of chicken cordon bleu, E had overpriced Long Island Iced Teas and shots with the guys, followed by a few good games of pong when they got back. He'd forgotten how to hold his drinks, so by the time I picked him up at 3am, he was not quite a staggering mess but his tongue was loose. Irresistibly cute. Stayed up talking till 6am.
Fun times, fun times.
11.19.2005
Singapore's sex life
... is becoming healthier, but is still pretty conservative. During my bimbo years my time-killer of choice at airports was Cosmo - I couldn't believe I couldn't find it on any 'zine stand back home because it was banned. But not anymore! That, and Sex and the City (though they're as exciting as the reruns on TBS), and, uh, maybe sexy chewing gum. Once I even thought I saw a whole page on how to pole-dance in the Sunday paper's lifestyle section.
Now there's a three-day sex exhibition featuring vibrators, condoms, lingerie, and scantily-clad dancers. Sexpo 2005 was fun enough for now, but it'll get racier, the director promised. I don't think it'll go so far as strip shows and live sex demonstrations though. It kinda creeps me out that the crowd mostly consists of much older men. *shudder*
See how Singapore compares globally in Durex's sex survey [pdf]
Now there's a three-day sex exhibition featuring vibrators, condoms, lingerie, and scantily-clad dancers. Sexpo 2005 was fun enough for now, but it'll get racier, the director promised. I don't think it'll go so far as strip shows and live sex demonstrations though. It kinda creeps me out that the crowd mostly consists of much older men. *shudder*
See how Singapore compares globally in Durex's sex survey [pdf]
Hold your breath - 'Tis the season
A few weeks ago when I turned on the radio, I sensed.. change. Radio jingles jingled, Bing Crosby found his way into the rock station's songlist. It was oh so subtle - the radio stations knew it was naughty, like a kid tiptoeing towards the cookie jar when Mommy wasn't looking. People haven't even finished their Halloween candy yet. Still, radio stations joined dozens of stores in their defection to that feel-good season and blatantly ignored the fact that November has its own section in the calendar.
Today, in some freak phenomena, for a few brief minutes every station I tuned to was playing Christmas music. Not simply big band jazz kind of songs, but "Santa is coming" kind of songs.
Here's a PSA for all radio stations out there: It's not even Turkey Day yet, please lay off the Christmas music. I'm aware that the spirit of the season is in the air, and I know there has been snowflake sightings. But unfortunately snow != Christmas. Malls at least have to rehearse for Black Friday, but you have no good reason. Now knock it off - for one more week.
In exciting news, I can see my breath today. :) A little disconcerting, because I don't think I'm ready for it to be this cold yet, but change is good. I need to winterize my wardrobe - my stringy two-piece is still sitting in the dresser waiting for a summer fling. Another item on the to-do list is have people over and break in the brand spankin' new fondue pot. Fondue and spiked hot chocolate could be so very good.
-----------------------------------------------------------
The 'new' thing in gift-giving is the gift of experience. Carnival's marketing department has their heads in the right place. Books, sweaters and toys are cliché, jewelry is passé, and every other bloke already has an iPod. People are spending on trips and 'novel' experiences, like bungee jumping, dance lessons, a few days at a spa resort, an omikase at Morimoto, whatever. Apparently, among the list of holiday gifts available for purchase now are a New Zealand wine adventure for 2 (price tag: $48,000), a private concert for 500 friends with Sir Elton John (price tag: $1.5 million), even a trip to space (price tag: $5 million). [link]
While it's neat, fun, and different, personally I think it's cheating to give someone a thin little piece of paper at Christmas and say their real gift is on its way, no matter how grand it is. Especially when everyone's gathered around a tree opening box after box - you can't help but look at cousin Sue's doggie-print toe socks with green eyes. What you can only play with tomorrow, you cannot play today. Any other day, though, I'd take Morimoto over toe socks.
Anyway - I haven't even thought about gifts yet. Haven't really thought about what I want either. I might want a book. Or a sweater. Or a toy.
Today, in some freak phenomena, for a few brief minutes every station I tuned to was playing Christmas music. Not simply big band jazz kind of songs, but "Santa is coming" kind of songs.
Here's a PSA for all radio stations out there: It's not even Turkey Day yet, please lay off the Christmas music. I'm aware that the spirit of the season is in the air, and I know there has been snowflake sightings. But unfortunately snow != Christmas. Malls at least have to rehearse for Black Friday, but you have no good reason. Now knock it off - for one more week.
In exciting news, I can see my breath today. :) A little disconcerting, because I don't think I'm ready for it to be this cold yet, but change is good. I need to winterize my wardrobe - my stringy two-piece is still sitting in the dresser waiting for a summer fling. Another item on the to-do list is have people over and break in the brand spankin' new fondue pot. Fondue and spiked hot chocolate could be so very good.
-----------------------------------------------------------
The 'new' thing in gift-giving is the gift of experience. Carnival's marketing department has their heads in the right place. Books, sweaters and toys are cliché, jewelry is passé, and every other bloke already has an iPod. People are spending on trips and 'novel' experiences, like bungee jumping, dance lessons, a few days at a spa resort, an omikase at Morimoto, whatever. Apparently, among the list of holiday gifts available for purchase now are a New Zealand wine adventure for 2 (price tag: $48,000), a private concert for 500 friends with Sir Elton John (price tag: $1.5 million), even a trip to space (price tag: $5 million). [link]
While it's neat, fun, and different, personally I think it's cheating to give someone a thin little piece of paper at Christmas and say their real gift is on its way, no matter how grand it is. Especially when everyone's gathered around a tree opening box after box - you can't help but look at cousin Sue's doggie-print toe socks with green eyes. What you can only play with tomorrow, you cannot play today. Any other day, though, I'd take Morimoto over toe socks.
Anyway - I haven't even thought about gifts yet. Haven't really thought about what I want either. I might want a book. Or a sweater. Or a toy.
11.17.2005
Trapped in the Closet
Watched the highly anticipated South Park episode about Scientology, Trapped in the Closet. It's a clever satire on the cult and R Kelly's saga of the same title, based loosely around the plot of the 1986 movie The Golden Child. It was a Stan episode; I loved it. There was a similar South Park episode with Mormonism, but somehow I've a feeling this was different. There was a running skit about Tom Cruise refusing to come out of the closet, and R Kelly breaking out into a musical and pulling out his gun. But the best part was when the Scientology guy told Stan the story of Xenu in mere minutes, 'trade secrets' that the Church fought to cover up. As the story was told, a big sign was plastered across the screen, reading "This Is What Scientologists Actually Believe". The illustrations of the aliens and flying souls were so well done, they drove home the point that truth was stranger than fiction - you'd laugh your butt off if you didn't know it was true. At the end the Scientologists were revealed to be nothing but extortionists and scammers, and when Stan tried to expose them, the Scientology people threatened to sue. The episode ended with "So sue me!", and the credits rolled with anonymous John and Jane Smiths. Brilliant.
Yesterday we had dinner with Mel and Chris. I served up claypot chicken, ghetto mapo tofu, and sauteed baby bak choy. Mel talked about how they get crazy Church of Scientology 'investigators' in the office once in a while, looking for the supervisor of E's boss, who's a strong vocal critic of the Church. Their tactic is to "attack the attacker", so they come up with bogus claims about how the Church critics abuse company funds to conduct shady activities, indulge in porn, whatever it takes to erode credibility and ruin their reputation. Eugene Ingram was a recent visitor - new, because the previous guy would've been arrested on sight. Ingram was escorted out by security, but not before giving Mel a hard time. The security guy that let him in got into trouble. In the past, E and I have received targeted e-mails by random people, blasting E's boss and making some wild accusations. They find ways... it's creepy.
For thousands of years people have wondered the purpose of our existence, coming up with different theories and forming religions, whose faces have slowly changed over the centuries. While admirable is the person that fights for what s/he so strongly believes in, human nature often rears its ugly head; it suddenly becomes a matter of power and control, about making everybody else believe in your brand of religion. Countless wars have been fought, dynasties overthrown, genocides... More relevant to our time, politicians abuse their office to promote their agenda and blur the line between church and state; even Kansas decided to tweak a widely-accepted concept to fit their religious agenda. On the other hand, great literary works have been inspired, and there have been many noble pursuits of Truth. But people, as a race, are stubborn and stupid, a lethal combination. Bigots are abound and there's no way to reason with them, except by fighting fire with fire and speaking through the only medium they understand - an organized religion.
Yesterday we had dinner with Mel and Chris. I served up claypot chicken, ghetto mapo tofu, and sauteed baby bak choy. Mel talked about how they get crazy Church of Scientology 'investigators' in the office once in a while, looking for the supervisor of E's boss, who's a strong vocal critic of the Church. Their tactic is to "attack the attacker", so they come up with bogus claims about how the Church critics abuse company funds to conduct shady activities, indulge in porn, whatever it takes to erode credibility and ruin their reputation. Eugene Ingram was a recent visitor - new, because the previous guy would've been arrested on sight. Ingram was escorted out by security, but not before giving Mel a hard time. The security guy that let him in got into trouble. In the past, E and I have received targeted e-mails by random people, blasting E's boss and making some wild accusations. They find ways... it's creepy.
For thousands of years people have wondered the purpose of our existence, coming up with different theories and forming religions, whose faces have slowly changed over the centuries. While admirable is the person that fights for what s/he so strongly believes in, human nature often rears its ugly head; it suddenly becomes a matter of power and control, about making everybody else believe in your brand of religion. Countless wars have been fought, dynasties overthrown, genocides... More relevant to our time, politicians abuse their office to promote their agenda and blur the line between church and state; even Kansas decided to tweak a widely-accepted concept to fit their religious agenda. On the other hand, great literary works have been inspired, and there have been many noble pursuits of Truth. But people, as a race, are stubborn and stupid, a lethal combination. Bigots are abound and there's no way to reason with them, except by fighting fire with fire and speaking through the only medium they understand - an organized religion.
11.14.2005
Goodbye old, hello new
Side-by-side comparison of a kittified toy and a brand new toy
Y'know that PetSmart TV ad with the dachshund and Bobo? Well, this is kitty's Bobo. She takes the orange mitt with her everywhere, on every escapade, even into her transmogrifier (the bread machine box). Sometimes she stuffs it in my purse. She goes to sleep with it. Her favorite random activity is clutching it in her mouth, sprinting down the hallway and leaping spread-eagle into a pile of bags in the kitchen.
And like Bobo, there comes a time when enough is enough. Christmas isn't soon enough to replace it, at the rate she's going. So today, we ceremoniously tossed it into the trashbin, when she wasn't looking. We'll wait a few days before bringing out the new one - she'll be so excited she won't know the difference.
11.13.2005
Music, fish, and braggarts
Went to the Symphony on Friday to watch Leonidas Kavakos debut with the PSO. He played Tchaikovsky's Violin Concerto in D major (pretty famous first movement) - that man is good. Of course, some credit has to go to the Strad he plays on. His notes were warm, lush, balanced; he didn't sway that much (I hate it when conceited performers swing about like a drunkard). The cadenza was well done. The hall was packed, even all the way up the gallery where we were. At the end of the piece, Kavakos got a standing ovation. Second half of the concert was all Ottorini Respighi; I'm generally not a fan of post-romantic composers but I quite enjoyed Pini di Roma. Beautiful piece.
On Saturday I did some grocery shopping at the Strip District, to stock up on rapidly declining supplies of Chinese cooking wine, sauces, and specialty teas. Thinking I might try my hand at Cantonese claypot rice soon, I went in search of salted fish. I recall it fondly in mum's cooking, but I've never seen it in its original form, which means I hadn't the foggiest clue what I was looking for. So I decided to ask a friendly clerk, in Chinese: "May I ask where the salted fish (xian yu) is?" She was an elderly woman that I presumed to be Chinese; she waved me off and mumbled something. Okay... Found another guy in an apron, asked him the same thing. "Shen me? Wo ting bu dong!" ("What? I don't understand!") There I was, wondering if we were speaking the same language. Was he hard of hearing? Soon, our private conversation turned into a rather public one with 5 other customers and 1 other clerk. "Salted fish," I tried again in English. "Bie gen wo yong ying yu!" ("Don't you use English with me!") It couldn't get any plainer than that - salted fish, fish that is salty. I just want some salty fish, dammit! Finally, afer some commotion, a woman emerged from the back of the store and took me to a row of frozen fish in vacuum packs. She smiled apologetically and said, "Xian yu!"
I told this bizarre story to my mum, about how the Chinese grocers didn't understand my Chinese even though we were talking about the same thing. I asked if I talk funny. She didn't answer, but she did warn me that salted fish is proven to be carcinogenic, so I shouldn't be eating it anyway. Great, after all that trouble...
That evening I went to an event where I ran into a few acquaintances. One of them was lugging around his camera equipment, all set to cover the show. He happened to be a Canon guy, so we talked camera for a bit. I told him that I was new to the world of SLRs, so I'm starting slow with a second-hand Drebel. He proudly flashed his top-of-the-line 1DmkII, with a fancy lens, hood, external flash, and battery grip. Behind him sat a bag with more lenses and accessories. He proceeded to give me a show-and-tell of his toys... maybe a little too much tell. "This is $10,000 worth of equipment right here!" Okay dude, you're a junior in college. Your pictures aren't all that great, and you're not even going into photography professionally. You bought these.. how? And you feel the need to tell me because..? "One piece of advice - these babies with the red line [shows me the red line on his lens] cost a fortune!" So, your lens costs a fortune. Right.
Camera Boy: "What lenses do you have?"
NK: "Currently, zero, but I'm thinking of getting a 50 f1.8 in the near future. It's a great piece of glass, but cheap."
Camera Boy: "... Oh." (looks disappointed/disinterested)
It's the photographer that makes the pictures, not the equipment, but he was too young to understand. The world isn't fair - some starving photographer out there is probably cursing him, the rich hobbyist that acquires serious equipment like toys to pick up chicks (and his ego). The conversation ended, and Camera Boy carried on with his bag of goodies and obnoxious flash umbrella (hello, overkill), prowling around for photo ops. A friend of mine, a serious photographer, just shrugged and smiled. He had a Drebel and a 50 f1.8.
On Saturday I did some grocery shopping at the Strip District, to stock up on rapidly declining supplies of Chinese cooking wine, sauces, and specialty teas. Thinking I might try my hand at Cantonese claypot rice soon, I went in search of salted fish. I recall it fondly in mum's cooking, but I've never seen it in its original form, which means I hadn't the foggiest clue what I was looking for. So I decided to ask a friendly clerk, in Chinese: "May I ask where the salted fish (xian yu) is?" She was an elderly woman that I presumed to be Chinese; she waved me off and mumbled something. Okay... Found another guy in an apron, asked him the same thing. "Shen me? Wo ting bu dong!" ("What? I don't understand!") There I was, wondering if we were speaking the same language. Was he hard of hearing? Soon, our private conversation turned into a rather public one with 5 other customers and 1 other clerk. "Salted fish," I tried again in English. "Bie gen wo yong ying yu!" ("Don't you use English with me!") It couldn't get any plainer than that - salted fish, fish that is salty. I just want some salty fish, dammit! Finally, afer some commotion, a woman emerged from the back of the store and took me to a row of frozen fish in vacuum packs. She smiled apologetically and said, "Xian yu!"
I told this bizarre story to my mum, about how the Chinese grocers didn't understand my Chinese even though we were talking about the same thing. I asked if I talk funny. She didn't answer, but she did warn me that salted fish is proven to be carcinogenic, so I shouldn't be eating it anyway. Great, after all that trouble...
That evening I went to an event where I ran into a few acquaintances. One of them was lugging around his camera equipment, all set to cover the show. He happened to be a Canon guy, so we talked camera for a bit. I told him that I was new to the world of SLRs, so I'm starting slow with a second-hand Drebel. He proudly flashed his top-of-the-line 1DmkII, with a fancy lens, hood, external flash, and battery grip. Behind him sat a bag with more lenses and accessories. He proceeded to give me a show-and-tell of his toys... maybe a little too much tell. "This is $10,000 worth of equipment right here!" Okay dude, you're a junior in college. Your pictures aren't all that great, and you're not even going into photography professionally. You bought these.. how? And you feel the need to tell me because..? "One piece of advice - these babies with the red line [shows me the red line on his lens] cost a fortune!" So, your lens costs a fortune. Right.
Camera Boy: "What lenses do you have?"
NK: "Currently, zero, but I'm thinking of getting a 50 f1.8 in the near future. It's a great piece of glass, but cheap."
Camera Boy: "... Oh." (looks disappointed/disinterested)
It's the photographer that makes the pictures, not the equipment, but he was too young to understand. The world isn't fair - some starving photographer out there is probably cursing him, the rich hobbyist that acquires serious equipment like toys to pick up chicks (and his ego). The conversation ended, and Camera Boy carried on with his bag of goodies and obnoxious flash umbrella (hello, overkill), prowling around for photo ops. A friend of mine, a serious photographer, just shrugged and smiled. He had a Drebel and a 50 f1.8.
11.07.2005
What's wrong with W?
What's eating George Bush? by Nora Ephron
You know the country is in bad shape when politics is festered with scandals, lies, and incompetence - worse when people start idly conjecturing illness and meds as an excuse.
You know the country is in bad shape when politics is festered with scandals, lies, and incompetence - worse when people start idly conjecturing illness and meds as an excuse.
11.05.2005
Yokoso
Went to Yokoso at the Waterfront for dinner. It's a hibachi steakhouse, kinda like Benihana, but they seem to have a better selection of sushi. Not bad, a pity it's a chain.
Our chef's name was Sergio. We sat with a mother and two sons, and a couple about our age. The girl was a flippin' lush, she drank 6 glasses of wine during the course of dinner. (I wanted to tell her that the state stores sold bottles for $8.) She and her boyfriend were discussing, with some degree of amazement, how some mushrooms are poisonous. The mother has never had scallops, so she asked if she could try one of ours. She seemed serious about it, and asked what it tastes like. We described it poorly as tasting like any other aquatic mollusk. Sergio overcooked the scallops, but they were okay. It was a decent dinner, I'd go back.
Hung out at Barnes & Noble after dinner, like the geeks we are; I bought Life of Pi by Yann Martel. It's been a long time coming. Flipped through a cat encyclopedia and learned some fascinating trivia, among which that our tortie is an American Shorthair.
Shimmied over to PetCo and got more kitty litter for the baby. There were two boys playing with the kitty litter. Dude, if I were you, I wouldn't want to be breathing that stuff. There was only one funnel and one working scooper, so when we got to the bin they could only watch.
Boy: "So... you guys have cats? How many?"
E: "Yeah, we've one."
NK: "But she's a pooper, so we need lots of this."
E: "Well, aren't all of 'em."
(Boys watched on as we filled up our buckets, while playing with the litter, this time with their grubby hands. Finally their mother called them over, and they ran off.)
While walking through the aisle of cat toys, E got excited when he saw an orange glove, the same one kitty has. It's like her blankie, she carries it around in her mouth, it's been chewed into a big orange ball of fuzz. We'd been thinking about replacing it, but never thought we'd find it. I think we'll wait until the current glove is truly a goner, then we'll bring out the new one. It'll be her Christmas present.
As soon as we got home, I fixed up a martini - sake, gin, grenadine, amaretto, and frangelico. Still can't beat the concoctions at Soba Lounge, but not shabby.
E's fascinated by Splinter Cell. The cat loves me.
Our chef's name was Sergio. We sat with a mother and two sons, and a couple about our age. The girl was a flippin' lush, she drank 6 glasses of wine during the course of dinner. (I wanted to tell her that the state stores sold bottles for $8.) She and her boyfriend were discussing, with some degree of amazement, how some mushrooms are poisonous. The mother has never had scallops, so she asked if she could try one of ours. She seemed serious about it, and asked what it tastes like. We described it poorly as tasting like any other aquatic mollusk. Sergio overcooked the scallops, but they were okay. It was a decent dinner, I'd go back.
Hung out at Barnes & Noble after dinner, like the geeks we are; I bought Life of Pi by Yann Martel. It's been a long time coming. Flipped through a cat encyclopedia and learned some fascinating trivia, among which that our tortie is an American Shorthair.
Shimmied over to PetCo and got more kitty litter for the baby. There were two boys playing with the kitty litter. Dude, if I were you, I wouldn't want to be breathing that stuff. There was only one funnel and one working scooper, so when we got to the bin they could only watch.
Boy: "So... you guys have cats? How many?"
E: "Yeah, we've one."
NK: "But she's a pooper, so we need lots of this."
E: "Well, aren't all of 'em."
(Boys watched on as we filled up our buckets, while playing with the litter, this time with their grubby hands. Finally their mother called them over, and they ran off.)
While walking through the aisle of cat toys, E got excited when he saw an orange glove, the same one kitty has. It's like her blankie, she carries it around in her mouth, it's been chewed into a big orange ball of fuzz. We'd been thinking about replacing it, but never thought we'd find it. I think we'll wait until the current glove is truly a goner, then we'll bring out the new one. It'll be her Christmas present.
As soon as we got home, I fixed up a martini - sake, gin, grenadine, amaretto, and frangelico. Still can't beat the concoctions at Soba Lounge, but not shabby.
E's fascinated by Splinter Cell. The cat loves me.
11.04.2005
Ho hum
Blogging r0x!
Okay, I have a confession to make. This is my second new blog in a month. Now I have 3. (Only 3, you say?) Why do I need so many blogs? Which should I direct people to? Who's actually going to read any of them?
Hm, now what. Vat to write. Vat vat. I live in the state with the highest number of auto-deer collisions in the country. That's pretty exciting, no?
Okay, I have a confession to make. This is my second new blog in a month. Now I have 3. (Only 3, you say?) Why do I need so many blogs? Which should I direct people to? Who's actually going to read any of them?
Hm, now what. Vat to write. Vat vat. I live in the state with the highest number of auto-deer collisions in the country. That's pretty exciting, no?
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