Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Slurp
Those Cadbury caramel eggs are even better than the creme ones. I almost lost control of my saliva.
Some Lines I Just Won't Cross
Sometimes I'm so bundled up at work that I have a shawl around my head and shoulders. A colleague told me I looked like Osama bin Laden's girlfriend.
I'd like to state, for the record, that I would not be Osama bin Laden's girlfriend. I mean, eeeeewww, he's so old.
I'd like to state, for the record, that I would not be Osama bin Laden's girlfriend. I mean, eeeeewww, he's so old.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Romance and Curly Fries
I don't have strong feelings one way or the other about Valentine's Day. I'm not ragingly bitter about being single. If I were half of a couple, I don't even know how elaborately I'd want to celebrate.
Birthdays are a different ballgame. It's a great chance for each person to have a special day, but you do have to be careful that you respect their wishes -- do they want it to be a big deal, or do they want to be left alone? You can't assume they'd want what you'd want. And you also have to figure out if they're the kind of person who'll be honest about what they want, or if they're hoping you'll just know.
What happens, then, when a person's birthday falls on a day that the rest of the world is already celebrating for its own reasons? This has always been my roommate Helen's problem, because her birthday is on Valentine's Day. At least this year, though, she was in luck, because two of us other roommates were single and free that night, and the other two are dating each other and thus could celebrate b-day stuff without being separated on a romantic holiday.
And that's how we all ended up at Hooters.
Helen had a sociological fascination with it, because apparently they have all kinds of guidelines for hiring waitresses. If I have my facts straight, they're officially "entertainers," which allows Hooters to judge them on looks and measurements. It was Helen and Maria who were rating all the servers; the two guys didn't participate in the judging. A few notes from our evening:
-- The place was crowded, which surprised me. And there were plenty of women eating there, and even some couples. On Valentine's Day. Who knew?
-- The food is quite good, though fries are not an automatic side dish. You have to order them separately.
-- There are TVs all along the walls, playing various sporting events, and the sound is on for one of the stations. It's pretty loud, so perhaps Hooters isn't the place for that intimate conversation you were planning on having.
-- When it's your birthday, in lieu of singing the birthday song, the servers do a cheer, like cheerleaders.
Helen's final verdict on the institution that is the Hooters Server? They're in comfortable footwear.
Birthdays are a different ballgame. It's a great chance for each person to have a special day, but you do have to be careful that you respect their wishes -- do they want it to be a big deal, or do they want to be left alone? You can't assume they'd want what you'd want. And you also have to figure out if they're the kind of person who'll be honest about what they want, or if they're hoping you'll just know.
What happens, then, when a person's birthday falls on a day that the rest of the world is already celebrating for its own reasons? This has always been my roommate Helen's problem, because her birthday is on Valentine's Day. At least this year, though, she was in luck, because two of us other roommates were single and free that night, and the other two are dating each other and thus could celebrate b-day stuff without being separated on a romantic holiday.
And that's how we all ended up at Hooters.
Helen had a sociological fascination with it, because apparently they have all kinds of guidelines for hiring waitresses. If I have my facts straight, they're officially "entertainers," which allows Hooters to judge them on looks and measurements. It was Helen and Maria who were rating all the servers; the two guys didn't participate in the judging. A few notes from our evening:
-- The place was crowded, which surprised me. And there were plenty of women eating there, and even some couples. On Valentine's Day. Who knew?
-- The food is quite good, though fries are not an automatic side dish. You have to order them separately.
-- There are TVs all along the walls, playing various sporting events, and the sound is on for one of the stations. It's pretty loud, so perhaps Hooters isn't the place for that intimate conversation you were planning on having.
-- When it's your birthday, in lieu of singing the birthday song, the servers do a cheer, like cheerleaders.
Helen's final verdict on the institution that is the Hooters Server? They're in comfortable footwear.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
What Would Meatloaf Not Do for Love?
My friends and I have been trying to figure out what, precisely, Meatloaf is talking about in the song, I Would Do Anything for Love (But I Won't Do That). I confess, I don't know the words that well. But I'm not sure it helps. Everyone still has a different idea about what the that is.
Blog world, have you any answers?
Blog world, have you any answers?
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Me and TV
Have you guys seen the show 30 Rock? I think I'm a cross between Liz Lemon and Kenneth the Page.
Changing shows now.
Office time. This season, they briefly had a character named Holly. Nifty, huh? Michael, the boss, likes her, and she likes him back. Jim, the "normal" guy on the show, is baffled by a woman liking Michael. Then he figures it out. His revelation? "Holly is a HUGE dork."
True, dat.
The thing is, all the stuff that makes Holly dorky -- Yoda impressions, movie quotes, a willingness to beat-box or jump around in a head band to Olivia Newton John -- are things that I would do, poorly but enthusiastically.
So there you have it. I am a huge dork.
Not much of a surprise, though, is it?
Changing shows now.
Office time. This season, they briefly had a character named Holly. Nifty, huh? Michael, the boss, likes her, and she likes him back. Jim, the "normal" guy on the show, is baffled by a woman liking Michael. Then he figures it out. His revelation? "Holly is a HUGE dork."
True, dat.
The thing is, all the stuff that makes Holly dorky -- Yoda impressions, movie quotes, a willingness to beat-box or jump around in a head band to Olivia Newton John -- are things that I would do, poorly but enthusiastically.
So there you have it. I am a huge dork.
Not much of a surprise, though, is it?
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Monday, February 09, 2009
That's Sporting of You
I've been viewing sporting events lately.
Last weekend, I watched the end of the National Figure Skating Championships. This was immediately followed by PBR -- Professional Bull Riding. That was new to me. I mean, I knew they did it. I just hadn't really watched it. It's fascinating. The bulls are as famous as the riders. Which makes sense, now that I've seen it. Some bulls are harder to ride than others, and that's factored into the rider's score. From what I gather, if no rider has ever made the full 8 seconds on a particular bull, that animal is considered "unridden." That sounds like it should be the name of a movie to me. The unridden bull who was getting lots of attention that day was named Bones, but I was pleasantly surprised to learn there was a bull named Booger Butt. I'm guessing the owner's children named that one.
I don't know what I'd have in common with a professional bull-rider, but when a guy named Cody puts on a cowboy hat and decides to ride a bucking behemoth, that's pretty hot. Actually, it's also rather hot that the rodeo clowns run toward the bull so the thrown rider can get away.
And here's something interesting: The number one rider was Italian. Not Italian-American, but needed-a-translator Italian. Who knew?
My next event was the Super Bowl. It was indeed super. I'm not sure whether it was a good game, but I had a good time. My roommate, John, and I went to a party hosted by a guy who's organized a network of Boston comedians. I haven't really gotten into stand-up (yet), so I felt out of my element when I went to one of their workshopping sessions, but I thought it would be fun to hang out with a roomful of funny people making snarky remarks about the commercials. And it was. It was perfect for me, because the game was just a springboard for entertaining coversation. John and I had thought we might leave early, but we stayed right through the game, and the subsequent Office episode. I wasn't going to put any pressure on myself to try to be funny, but a couple sips of a strong Pomtini took care of that. Wooooo! Best Super Bowl party I've ever been to.
And then I had my first hockey game. Also fun! My friend Chris ended up with an extra ticket to a Bruins game, so I got a call on Saturday morning asking if I wanted to go. Yes. They make it pretty easy for people like me, who don't have a clue. Hockey doesn't seem all that complicated (even I understand what a goal is, even if I don't always notice when somebody gets one). Things were slightly confusing, though, because normally I clap when the people around me clap, and the arena seemed to have several pockets of fans for the opposing team (the nerve of them!). So I had to pay attention. The Jumbo Tron is very helpful, though. It tells you when to make noise, and when the clock stops, it shows shots of little kids in Bruins garb, dancing. Who doesn't love that?
Chris bought me a Bruins T-shirt, so I could look like I belonged there. They may not want me to come back, though, because the Bruins lost in overtime, and Chris deduced that I was the variable.
Embarrassing moment: I tried to sip my hot chocolate through a straw that turned out to be an X-shaped stirrer that had no hole.
Last weekend, I watched the end of the National Figure Skating Championships. This was immediately followed by PBR -- Professional Bull Riding. That was new to me. I mean, I knew they did it. I just hadn't really watched it. It's fascinating. The bulls are as famous as the riders. Which makes sense, now that I've seen it. Some bulls are harder to ride than others, and that's factored into the rider's score. From what I gather, if no rider has ever made the full 8 seconds on a particular bull, that animal is considered "unridden." That sounds like it should be the name of a movie to me. The unridden bull who was getting lots of attention that day was named Bones, but I was pleasantly surprised to learn there was a bull named Booger Butt. I'm guessing the owner's children named that one.
I don't know what I'd have in common with a professional bull-rider, but when a guy named Cody puts on a cowboy hat and decides to ride a bucking behemoth, that's pretty hot. Actually, it's also rather hot that the rodeo clowns run toward the bull so the thrown rider can get away.
And here's something interesting: The number one rider was Italian. Not Italian-American, but needed-a-translator Italian. Who knew?
My next event was the Super Bowl. It was indeed super. I'm not sure whether it was a good game, but I had a good time. My roommate, John, and I went to a party hosted by a guy who's organized a network of Boston comedians. I haven't really gotten into stand-up (yet), so I felt out of my element when I went to one of their workshopping sessions, but I thought it would be fun to hang out with a roomful of funny people making snarky remarks about the commercials. And it was. It was perfect for me, because the game was just a springboard for entertaining coversation. John and I had thought we might leave early, but we stayed right through the game, and the subsequent Office episode. I wasn't going to put any pressure on myself to try to be funny, but a couple sips of a strong Pomtini took care of that. Wooooo! Best Super Bowl party I've ever been to.
And then I had my first hockey game. Also fun! My friend Chris ended up with an extra ticket to a Bruins game, so I got a call on Saturday morning asking if I wanted to go. Yes. They make it pretty easy for people like me, who don't have a clue. Hockey doesn't seem all that complicated (even I understand what a goal is, even if I don't always notice when somebody gets one). Things were slightly confusing, though, because normally I clap when the people around me clap, and the arena seemed to have several pockets of fans for the opposing team (the nerve of them!). So I had to pay attention. The Jumbo Tron is very helpful, though. It tells you when to make noise, and when the clock stops, it shows shots of little kids in Bruins garb, dancing. Who doesn't love that?
Chris bought me a Bruins T-shirt, so I could look like I belonged there. They may not want me to come back, though, because the Bruins lost in overtime, and Chris deduced that I was the variable.
Embarrassing moment: I tried to sip my hot chocolate through a straw that turned out to be an X-shaped stirrer that had no hole.
Tuesday, February 03, 2009
Not the Thyroid, Then
I'm doing some routine maintenance this week -- a dentist's appointment today, a doctor's checkup yesterday. I asked about the whole being-colder-than-everyone-else thing, but apparently I'm not cold to the touch, so don't have hypothyroidism; nor am I Snowella, Queen of the Frozen North. I'm just weird.
And an updated list of places I'd rather be than at work:
The doctor's
The dentist's
The gym
Funerals
Surgery
Commuting
And an updated list of places I'd rather be than at work:
The doctor's
The dentist's
The gym
Funerals
Surgery
Commuting
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
