Tuesday, July 24, 2007
From the misunderstood lyric files
This is a smaller subfolder in the overstuffed misheard lyrics file. Until this weekend, as far as I know, it only had one entry, which was me thinking that the "Paul was a real estate novelist" line in Billy Joel's "Piano Man" meant that Paul wrote novels about real estate, when in fact he's just a guy in real estate who wants to be a novelist. (Thank you, Diana, for that clarification.) But now I have cause to add another. This one comes courtesy of The Carpenters, a band that I always associate with Francesca, because she adores them more than anyone on the planet, possibly including the surviving members of The Carpenters themselves. Oh, and they also remind me of the worst episode of Dawson's Creek of all time, a stand-alone from Season 5 in which Joey gets mugged, then her mugger gets hit by a car, and she ends up singing a duet of "Close to You" with him in the hospital shortly before he dies. You know, now that I think about it, that might be the worst episode ever in the history of television, not just Dawson's Creek.
But anyway. Whether sung by Joey Potter and a mugger, Francesca, Karen Carpenter or some combination of the above, whenever I heard the first line of "Close to You" ("Why do birds suddenly appear, every time you are near"), I always envisioned little twittering birds popping up, all Disney-like, around the head of whomever the person was singing to. Which, as I pointed out to Dave, would be kind of scary for me, what with my fear and loathing of birds and all. That's when he informed me that he thought "birds suddenly appearing" was Karen Carpenter-speak for butterflies in the stomach. Which makes so much more sense, when you think about it. But, as usual, the real version is a lot less entertaining than the one in my crazy mind.
This is a smaller subfolder in the overstuffed misheard lyrics file. Until this weekend, as far as I know, it only had one entry, which was me thinking that the "Paul was a real estate novelist" line in Billy Joel's "Piano Man" meant that Paul wrote novels about real estate, when in fact he's just a guy in real estate who wants to be a novelist. (Thank you, Diana, for that clarification.) But now I have cause to add another. This one comes courtesy of The Carpenters, a band that I always associate with Francesca, because she adores them more than anyone on the planet, possibly including the surviving members of The Carpenters themselves. Oh, and they also remind me of the worst episode of Dawson's Creek of all time, a stand-alone from Season 5 in which Joey gets mugged, then her mugger gets hit by a car, and she ends up singing a duet of "Close to You" with him in the hospital shortly before he dies. You know, now that I think about it, that might be the worst episode ever in the history of television, not just Dawson's Creek.
But anyway. Whether sung by Joey Potter and a mugger, Francesca, Karen Carpenter or some combination of the above, whenever I heard the first line of "Close to You" ("Why do birds suddenly appear, every time you are near"), I always envisioned little twittering birds popping up, all Disney-like, around the head of whomever the person was singing to. Which, as I pointed out to Dave, would be kind of scary for me, what with my fear and loathing of birds and all. That's when he informed me that he thought "birds suddenly appearing" was Karen Carpenter-speak for butterflies in the stomach. Which makes so much more sense, when you think about it. But, as usual, the real version is a lot less entertaining than the one in my crazy mind.
Friday, July 20, 2007
You scream. I cry.
At work, we're in the middle of finishing up our biggest issue of the year, so to help get us through it, our publisher bought ice cream for the entire office yesterday, including chocolate-covered ice cream bars, which are so delicious they really should be illegal. Not wanting to miss out on the ice cream rush, I snagged one right after my semi-late lunch. I was pleased to note that there were still plenty of ice cream treats left, and I hoped that, since it was a little later in the day, I might be able to repeat the whole afternoon-treat thing again today.
Before I prepared my lunch today, I took a quick peek in the freezer to assess the status of the ice cream, and was delighted to see that the stash still seemed to be intact, including the box of my favorite chocolate-covered bars tucked in the back. While I was eating lunch, though, some work passed across my desk, so I thought I'd better postpone the ice cream-ing in order to complete it, seeing as the ice cream was supposed to be a reward for doing work. Plus, I reasoned, it would be much better to kick back and finish my blog reading while enjoying my ice cream bar, rather than trying to juggle it while inputting corrections to a proof.
Fast forward to 10 minutes ago when, task completed, I eagerly made a beeline for the kitchen, only to find that the freezer that had been stocked with ice cream not an hour before was now a desolate wasteland. Where there had been boxes of cones, there was now only empty space, with not even a stray bar left behind. Clearly an organized group of office infidels had come in and comandeered every last bit of the ice cream for themselves.
So now I sit in my office, sadly chewing a piece of Spearmint gum, which I probably don't need to tell you is clearly not a chocolate-covered ice cream bar. My only hope for dessert salvation today lies in the promise that the Silver Spring Whole Foods, where I will be going tonight to participate in Harry Potter mania (despite the fact that I have never read a Harry Potter book or seen a Harry Potter movie) (I know) (I know), will once again be making the individual-size chocolate cheesecakes that it got me hooked on and then so heartlessly took away. Don't let me down, Whole Foods! I need you!
At work, we're in the middle of finishing up our biggest issue of the year, so to help get us through it, our publisher bought ice cream for the entire office yesterday, including chocolate-covered ice cream bars, which are so delicious they really should be illegal. Not wanting to miss out on the ice cream rush, I snagged one right after my semi-late lunch. I was pleased to note that there were still plenty of ice cream treats left, and I hoped that, since it was a little later in the day, I might be able to repeat the whole afternoon-treat thing again today.
Before I prepared my lunch today, I took a quick peek in the freezer to assess the status of the ice cream, and was delighted to see that the stash still seemed to be intact, including the box of my favorite chocolate-covered bars tucked in the back. While I was eating lunch, though, some work passed across my desk, so I thought I'd better postpone the ice cream-ing in order to complete it, seeing as the ice cream was supposed to be a reward for doing work. Plus, I reasoned, it would be much better to kick back and finish my blog reading while enjoying my ice cream bar, rather than trying to juggle it while inputting corrections to a proof.
Fast forward to 10 minutes ago when, task completed, I eagerly made a beeline for the kitchen, only to find that the freezer that had been stocked with ice cream not an hour before was now a desolate wasteland. Where there had been boxes of cones, there was now only empty space, with not even a stray bar left behind. Clearly an organized group of office infidels had come in and comandeered every last bit of the ice cream for themselves.
So now I sit in my office, sadly chewing a piece of Spearmint gum, which I probably don't need to tell you is clearly not a chocolate-covered ice cream bar. My only hope for dessert salvation today lies in the promise that the Silver Spring Whole Foods, where I will be going tonight to participate in Harry Potter mania (despite the fact that I have never read a Harry Potter book or seen a Harry Potter movie) (I know) (I know), will once again be making the individual-size chocolate cheesecakes that it got me hooked on and then so heartlessly took away. Don't let me down, Whole Foods! I need you!
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
These burritos are making me fat!
A couple of months ago, I discovered a wondrous creation: Amy's Organic Indian wraps. For a long time, I've been a fan of the Amy's burritos, although I could never remember which was which (beyond the fact that the non-dairy version is the only one that actually tastes like it has cheese in it), and I was starting to get a little tired of them. So the simple fact that they were a new (and not mislabeled) taste sensation endeared me to the Indian wraps before I even tried one. But then I had my first bite, and whoa. It was love. Spinach and tofu all mixed up with yummy Indian spices. Plus, I felt really healthy eating them, because spinach and tofu, right? What could be healthier than that? Sure, they often left me starving by the time dinner rolled around, but it was a small price to pay for being healthy.
Last night, while standing around waiting for my pasta to finish cooking, I suddenly got the urge to open up the freezer and glance at the nutrition label on one of the wraps. This is a decision I regret, because I discovered that each little wrap has a whopping 14 grams of fat. FOURTEEN. Now, I know that's nothing compared to the 40 kajillion grams of fat I'd be injesting if I had, say, a sub from Jimmy John's (mmmm...) for lunch every day. But it's still quite a lot for a small portion that leaves me ravenous only a few hours later. Needless to say, I'm starting to rethink my devotion to the Indian wraps.
Of course, I won't exactly be going cold turkey anytime soon, as I took advantage of the grocery store's two-for-one deal last night and stocked up on enough Indian wraps to last me through this week and next. Guess the number on the scale at my gym won't be going down anytime soon.
A couple of months ago, I discovered a wondrous creation: Amy's Organic Indian wraps. For a long time, I've been a fan of the Amy's burritos, although I could never remember which was which (beyond the fact that the non-dairy version is the only one that actually tastes like it has cheese in it), and I was starting to get a little tired of them. So the simple fact that they were a new (and not mislabeled) taste sensation endeared me to the Indian wraps before I even tried one. But then I had my first bite, and whoa. It was love. Spinach and tofu all mixed up with yummy Indian spices. Plus, I felt really healthy eating them, because spinach and tofu, right? What could be healthier than that? Sure, they often left me starving by the time dinner rolled around, but it was a small price to pay for being healthy.
Last night, while standing around waiting for my pasta to finish cooking, I suddenly got the urge to open up the freezer and glance at the nutrition label on one of the wraps. This is a decision I regret, because I discovered that each little wrap has a whopping 14 grams of fat. FOURTEEN. Now, I know that's nothing compared to the 40 kajillion grams of fat I'd be injesting if I had, say, a sub from Jimmy John's (mmmm...) for lunch every day. But it's still quite a lot for a small portion that leaves me ravenous only a few hours later. Needless to say, I'm starting to rethink my devotion to the Indian wraps.
Of course, I won't exactly be going cold turkey anytime soon, as I took advantage of the grocery store's two-for-one deal last night and stocked up on enough Indian wraps to last me through this week and next. Guess the number on the scale at my gym won't be going down anytime soon.
Friday, July 13, 2007
No peace
Just when I've managed to get the mice out of my apartment (fingers crossed), they dispatch more of their numbers to terrorize me when I'm traveling. I'm in Door County, Wisconsin, right now on a work trip/mini vacation. This afternoon, I was eating lunch outdoors, when out of the corner of my eye, I saw a mouse dart across the patio where I was sitting and into some nearby bushes. I was slightly startled, but it really wasn't a huge deal. After all, I was outside, in the mouse's home. He had every right to be there. I went back to eating my lunch.
The next time I looked down, the little bugger was right next to my foot, which was slightly less OK. Yes, I was still in his home, but now he was invading my personal space. I stomped my foot down to startle him, and he ran back into the bushes. Seconds later, I saw him try to creep back toward my foot, so I stomped again. We did this little tango a few more times before I finally got fed up and moved. Why must the mice always win?
Just when I've managed to get the mice out of my apartment (fingers crossed), they dispatch more of their numbers to terrorize me when I'm traveling. I'm in Door County, Wisconsin, right now on a work trip/mini vacation. This afternoon, I was eating lunch outdoors, when out of the corner of my eye, I saw a mouse dart across the patio where I was sitting and into some nearby bushes. I was slightly startled, but it really wasn't a huge deal. After all, I was outside, in the mouse's home. He had every right to be there. I went back to eating my lunch.
The next time I looked down, the little bugger was right next to my foot, which was slightly less OK. Yes, I was still in his home, but now he was invading my personal space. I stomped my foot down to startle him, and he ran back into the bushes. Seconds later, I saw him try to creep back toward my foot, so I stomped again. We did this little tango a few more times before I finally got fed up and moved. Why must the mice always win?
Thursday, July 05, 2007
It's a bird, it's a...wait, what the heck is that?
I was in Birmingham this past weekend, where I attended the nuptials of Francesca and Matt on...well, pretty much all day Saturday. (What can I say? The Catholics like to pray, the Italians like to party, and I like to sleep late. Voila! All-day wedding!) Anyway, at the end of the night, when I went to say my good-byes to the bride and groom, I happened to meet Francesca's mother, who told me there was a bag with my name on it on the gift table. At first, I was confused. A gift for me? Why? It wasn't my wedding. (Then again, we were entering hour eight of the festivities at that point, so for all I knew, I could've accidentally gotten married somewhere in there and not realized it.) Finally, Francesca clued me in that it was my out-of-town goody bag, which contained, in her words, "some cookies and maybe a Foot Locker coupon or something...I don't know."
I felt mildly guilty accepting the out-of-town goody bag since, having lived in Birmingham for four years, I wasn't really a true out-of-towner. However, it's not in my nature to turn down a goody bag, nor is it in my nature not to tear into that sucker as soon as possible, which Dave and I did the moment we got in the car. Inside, we did not find a Foot Locker coupon, but we did find the aforementioned cookies (yummy!), a bunch of candy, a rosary, and the most confounding thing ever.
The Most Confounding Thing Ever
As you can see from the photo above, The Most Confounding Thing Ever is some sort of metal contraption shaped like a bird. You might be tempted to think that this is just your run-of-the-mill decorative metal bird, but no, it clearly has a function, as evidenced by the fact that you can open the top of it and then squeeze it shut. There's also a small serrated edge just inside the beak that, again, surely must perform some function.
A view of the...uh, working components of The Most Confounding Thing Ever
So my question to you, dear readers, is: Do any of you have any idea what the heck this thing is? Have you ever received a metal bird of unknown origin and function in a wedding goody bag? If so, please let me know what you used it for. I've showed The Most Confounding Thing Ever to a few people since receiving it at the wedding, all of whom were as confounded as I was. Still, we've managed to compile a respectable (yet, I fear, still totally off-base) list of what it could possibly be, including: nutcracker, ribbon cutter, cigar clip, garlic press (not my idea, for the record), and one of those doohickeys that fastens the corners of paper together without the use of staples. If you have any ideas to add to the mix, please leave a comment below. It is my hope that when Francesca returns from her honeymoon in Jamaica, she will be able to correctly identify The Most Confounding Thing Ever, at which point I will be able to use it for its intended purpose (or perhaps I'll mail it to whoever comes up with the most correct guess).
I was in Birmingham this past weekend, where I attended the nuptials of Francesca and Matt on...well, pretty much all day Saturday. (What can I say? The Catholics like to pray, the Italians like to party, and I like to sleep late. Voila! All-day wedding!) Anyway, at the end of the night, when I went to say my good-byes to the bride and groom, I happened to meet Francesca's mother, who told me there was a bag with my name on it on the gift table. At first, I was confused. A gift for me? Why? It wasn't my wedding. (Then again, we were entering hour eight of the festivities at that point, so for all I knew, I could've accidentally gotten married somewhere in there and not realized it.) Finally, Francesca clued me in that it was my out-of-town goody bag, which contained, in her words, "some cookies and maybe a Foot Locker coupon or something...I don't know."
I felt mildly guilty accepting the out-of-town goody bag since, having lived in Birmingham for four years, I wasn't really a true out-of-towner. However, it's not in my nature to turn down a goody bag, nor is it in my nature not to tear into that sucker as soon as possible, which Dave and I did the moment we got in the car. Inside, we did not find a Foot Locker coupon, but we did find the aforementioned cookies (yummy!), a bunch of candy, a rosary, and the most confounding thing ever.
As you can see from the photo above, The Most Confounding Thing Ever is some sort of metal contraption shaped like a bird. You might be tempted to think that this is just your run-of-the-mill decorative metal bird, but no, it clearly has a function, as evidenced by the fact that you can open the top of it and then squeeze it shut. There's also a small serrated edge just inside the beak that, again, surely must perform some function.
So my question to you, dear readers, is: Do any of you have any idea what the heck this thing is? Have you ever received a metal bird of unknown origin and function in a wedding goody bag? If so, please let me know what you used it for. I've showed The Most Confounding Thing Ever to a few people since receiving it at the wedding, all of whom were as confounded as I was. Still, we've managed to compile a respectable (yet, I fear, still totally off-base) list of what it could possibly be, including: nutcracker, ribbon cutter, cigar clip, garlic press (not my idea, for the record), and one of those doohickeys that fastens the corners of paper together without the use of staples. If you have any ideas to add to the mix, please leave a comment below. It is my hope that when Francesca returns from her honeymoon in Jamaica, she will be able to correctly identify The Most Confounding Thing Ever, at which point I will be able to use it for its intended purpose (or perhaps I'll mail it to whoever comes up with the most correct guess).
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