It's 3:28 in the morning. Everyone went to bed a long time ago, so I've been amusing myself by clicking 'random' on xkcd for hours. Seriously. And I have come to two conclusions:
1. Randall Munroe is the kind of man (maybe the actual man, he's only 24) I want to marry, if I ever even become a dateable person again, which is unlikely.
2. I totally forgot that the very sentiment for which I love David Foster Wallace was articulated a couple years earlier in Sandman, and I don't know how I feel about this. Which is nerdier? Or does it matter?
P.S. God I'm such a creep.
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Friday, September 4, 2009
An't got no liquidity, guess that prevents pinguidity. . .
(952): going out? Paunchy penguins?
This is a text I just received from my friend Mike. It's a Thursday night, but. . .maybe you should be sitting down for this: I'm actually at home. And I plan on staying right here until my first class tomorrow. No money, so no Paunchy Penguins, nor Chubby Chipmunks, nor Beefy Belugas for me tonight.
It all started (as too many things do) with a drink special.
As all good Madisonians know, The Vintage, a decent downtown joint with a massive patio (and surprisingly good pancakes and a Bloody Mary bar, if you're in the mood for that kind of thing on a Sunday afternoon), has a special on Monday nights where any Wisconsin beer is $1 until midnight, which includes many local favorites, including Fat Squirrel, a nutty brown ale from New Glarus.
Now, New Glarus beers also have wacky names, like Dancing Man, or Totally Naked, or the ubiquitous Spotted Cow. They do this because they are a Local Brewery, which is apparently synonymous with Very Quirky. But one day, while I was facing the beer and wine section at Trader Joe's, which is a store that tries very hard to be Very Quirky because they want to seem like a Local Grocery Store (Freal. The emphasis on Tiki-Themed Maniacally Friendly Employee Culture is specifically geared toward making you think that it's like the Willy Street Co-op. Which it isn't), when I came across something called Fat Weasel.
So I'm all like, Seriously? How many Adipose Animal-themed beers are out there?
And so it began. Portly Possum. Obese Ostritch. Glandular Guinea Pig. Stout Stoat. Flabby Fox. Et cetera et cetera ad infinitem, literally. Except that tonight I was tired and checked a thesaurus for more fat words. Unfortunately, there was only one that hadn't yet been used: the word pinguid.
Which then makes me think of those awful quizzes they put in pamphlets in the student clinic, or sometimes around the gym that ask How many cheeseburgers did you drink last night? (answer: you don't want to know).
Oh, and just so you know, I can has fifty-four (54!!!) cheezburgers in one month. Holy shit.
This is a text I just received from my friend Mike. It's a Thursday night, but. . .maybe you should be sitting down for this: I'm actually at home. And I plan on staying right here until my first class tomorrow. No money, so no Paunchy Penguins, nor Chubby Chipmunks, nor Beefy Belugas for me tonight.
It all started (as too many things do) with a drink special.
As all good Madisonians know, The Vintage, a decent downtown joint with a massive patio (and surprisingly good pancakes and a Bloody Mary bar, if you're in the mood for that kind of thing on a Sunday afternoon), has a special on Monday nights where any Wisconsin beer is $1 until midnight, which includes many local favorites, including Fat Squirrel, a nutty brown ale from New Glarus.
Now, New Glarus beers also have wacky names, like Dancing Man, or Totally Naked, or the ubiquitous Spotted Cow. They do this because they are a Local Brewery, which is apparently synonymous with Very Quirky. But one day, while I was facing the beer and wine section at Trader Joe's, which is a store that tries very hard to be Very Quirky because they want to seem like a Local Grocery Store (Freal. The emphasis on Tiki-Themed Maniacally Friendly Employee Culture is specifically geared toward making you think that it's like the Willy Street Co-op. Which it isn't), when I came across something called Fat Weasel.
So I'm all like, Seriously? How many Adipose Animal-themed beers are out there?
***
And so it began. Portly Possum. Obese Ostritch. Glandular Guinea Pig. Stout Stoat. Flabby Fox. Et cetera et cetera ad infinitem, literally. Except that tonight I was tired and checked a thesaurus for more fat words. Unfortunately, there was only one that hadn't yet been used: the word pinguid.
pinguid |ˌpɪŋgw1d|Which, until you read the definition, is kind of the most adorable fat-word I've ever heard. If I ever make a beer (and given the current trendiness of homebrew coupled with the desire to redeem myself after that wretched absinthe I made last year, it could happen), I'm calling it Pinguid. And on the label would be something like this:
adjective formal
of the nature of or resembling fat; oily or greasy.
DERIVATIVES
pinguidity noun
ORIGIN mid 17th cent.: from Latin pinguis ‘fat’ + -id
Which then makes me think of those awful quizzes they put in pamphlets in the student clinic, or sometimes around the gym that ask How many cheeseburgers did you drink last night? (answer: you don't want to know).***
And this confuses me. Does alcohol really make you fat? Do I simply exist in this magical 22-year-old world where I actually am invincible and I can drink as many cheeseburgers as I want and still stay the fairly slender woman I am? Because I always thought the mythical "beer belly" came from those three Pizza di Roma slices you thought you needed between the Plaza and bed. Or the high-calorie mixers people put in their cocktails, illustrated quite graphically in this sick New York public health campaign. Or the fact that post-bender breakfasts tend to resemble something like this (thank you, thisiswhyyourefat.com).Oh, and just so you know, I can has fifty-four (54!!!) cheezburgers in one month. Holy shit.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
jour 1: la victoire, plus ou moins
First day back went well, I guess. I think I've gotten stupid over the past year. Au moins, j'ai oublié tout mon vocabulaire.
But anyway. Snippet from an old notebook from the last time I was in England:
But anyway. Snippet from an old notebook from the last time I was in England:
Stories about Gran’s family: there was her sister Liz, who was a Catholic fanatic, and then there was the nun, who was less religious than Liz but had an eating disorder that prompted her to request odd foods that couldn’t be found on the East End of London, so the kids had to go to every shop in Hackney and suffer the embarrassment of asking if they had Fig Newtons or Cottage Cheese or Syrian bread, whatever that was. And the horrible presents she would give. One time she gave Margaret a green silk cravat—
“What’s a cravat?” asked my little cousin.
“A. . .it’s like a neckerchief. A man’s green silk neckerchief with paisleys on it. And after saying oh thank you, it’s lovely, she said go on, why don’t you wear it? So I put it on and she made me go down to the commons with her. . .”
“She made you what?” My dad asked, wiping tears of laughter from under his glasses.
“She made me”—more laughter—“She made me put it on and then go down to the commons—to the park with her—and walk with her and say the rosary. In public. And she was nearly blind, you know. But she still used to crochet. Did she ever crochet anything for you, Michael, a waistcoat or something? Because I had a green silk neckerchief that would go right nicely with it.”
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Milwaukee's alright.
Oh, jeez.
First day of class tomorrow, and although I didn't make it to the going-away party I should have attended (he probably got too drunk to notice I wasn't there), I also didn't manage to sleep like a normal person last night, staying up until dawn reading the ridiculous Playboy Bartender's Guide and smoking the rest of that terrible tobacco Dan got me last Christmas. And now it's quarter to three and I have so much to do!
Coming soon for your viewing pleasure:
-pictures of the new pad (I have to clean first)
-a new essay on feminism
-updates on the photoshoot (it's taking a lot longer than we'd expected)
Anyway. Last Friday evening, Erica and Chris and I crammed our bikes into the back seat of his old 'Rolla, all three of ourselves into the front seat, and set out on impromptu adventure in Milwaukee. Our first stop was the Milwaukee Art Museum, where there was some kind of event with a band and a $10 cover that allowed you to do arts and crafts and sample homebrew. Unfortunately, the beer was gone, we we hopped on our vélos and rode off in the rain to Riverwest, where we saw a friend of a friend's band play at Live on North, then a place called Nomad on Brady Street, where what they call the "Prix Fixe" special gets you a can of PBR, a shot of Jameson, and a cigarette, all for five dollars. Best ever. And yes, you can still smoke in bars in Milwaukee.
Before passing out for the night, we picked up some Chicago dogs at the Dog Haus off Brady Street. I swear to god I couldn't tell you the last time I had a hot dog, but it did remind me of that old place down Irving Park Road called Bowser Dog I used to go to all the time as a kid, which I guess makes it authentic enough despite the fact that hot dogs are still kind of gross. The guy who sits outside is quite friendly and entertaining, and prevented Chris from leaving behind his "purse" and the camera within it. Nice place.
The next morning (well, noon), we all met back up at a place called Comet on Farwell (their menus described themselves as a 'slow-food' establishment. One of those), where we waited forever to be seated, but were rewarded with stellar coffee, fabulous breakfast sandwiches (fried egg, mayo, lettuce, tomato, bacon, on fresh bread with hand-cut fries) and even better Bloody Marys. Because they were made with Guinness, and were garnished. . .with bacon.
First day of class tomorrow, and although I didn't make it to the going-away party I should have attended (he probably got too drunk to notice I wasn't there), I also didn't manage to sleep like a normal person last night, staying up until dawn reading the ridiculous Playboy Bartender's Guide and smoking the rest of that terrible tobacco Dan got me last Christmas. And now it's quarter to three and I have so much to do!
Coming soon for your viewing pleasure:
-pictures of the new pad (I have to clean first)
-a new essay on feminism
-updates on the photoshoot (it's taking a lot longer than we'd expected)
Anyway. Last Friday evening, Erica and Chris and I crammed our bikes into the back seat of his old 'Rolla, all three of ourselves into the front seat, and set out on impromptu adventure in Milwaukee. Our first stop was the Milwaukee Art Museum, where there was some kind of event with a band and a $10 cover that allowed you to do arts and crafts and sample homebrew. Unfortunately, the beer was gone, we we hopped on our vélos and rode off in the rain to Riverwest, where we saw a friend of a friend's band play at Live on North, then a place called Nomad on Brady Street, where what they call the "Prix Fixe" special gets you a can of PBR, a shot of Jameson, and a cigarette, all for five dollars. Best ever. And yes, you can still smoke in bars in Milwaukee.
Before passing out for the night, we picked up some Chicago dogs at the Dog Haus off Brady Street. I swear to god I couldn't tell you the last time I had a hot dog, but it did remind me of that old place down Irving Park Road called Bowser Dog I used to go to all the time as a kid, which I guess makes it authentic enough despite the fact that hot dogs are still kind of gross. The guy who sits outside is quite friendly and entertaining, and prevented Chris from leaving behind his "purse" and the camera within it. Nice place.
The next morning (well, noon), we all met back up at a place called Comet on Farwell (their menus described themselves as a 'slow-food' establishment. One of those), where we waited forever to be seated, but were rewarded with stellar coffee, fabulous breakfast sandwiches (fried egg, mayo, lettuce, tomato, bacon, on fresh bread with hand-cut fries) and even better Bloody Marys. Because they were made with Guinness, and were garnished. . .with bacon.
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