I can't stop...watching...

In case you're wondering, Tarako is a Japanese company that sells spaghetti with cod roe. Bags of which is what's apparently on their heads. And no, I dont know what the babies mean. Don't question, just let the cupies and their hypnotic commercial rut into your brain.

Schrodinger's LOLCAT

Fine. I used to work in Porn.

Hyperion sent me an email with the note..."As usual, when I see porno and physics, I think of you....."
and the link to this comic

He hit it on the head. Sigh. You got me.

So, since it's out there...here is a pic from my porno where I derive Schrodinger's equation while in stockings.

Gotta love the comic-dorks.

I e-mailed my boyfriend D, a huge comic book fan, and I told him that I was not sleeping well...

The following is his response.

"basically superman was in this battle with braniac once where braniac fried his brain, and as a result of the injuries, over the next several issues superman noticed he was sleeping less and feeling less & less energized at work. he'd be at his desk at the daily planet with stubble on his face and someone would be like, "jeez clark are you feeling ok?" meanwhile this new superhero shows up on the streets of metropolis named "Gangbuster" who only patrolled the streets & night and was super-violent with all the criminals. superman kept trying to track him down but was never able to find him.

then one day Gangbuster gets into a fight with another superhero called The Guardian, and at one point Guardian swipes at Gangbuster's armor & tears his shirt. Gangbuster looks down at his torn shirt and sees the superman logo underneath! that shocks him and suddenly he realizes that he IS Superman, and Superman IS Gangbuster--he had been parading around in his schizophrenic state as this phony made-up superhero who was acting out all the stuff that Superman never let himself do in his waking life! Basically all the stuff Batman does but Superman says he would never do. So this totally shocked Superman so much that he exiled himself to space for a while because he didnt trust himself around humans anymore. he later returned to earth of course once he was sure he had been cured. so even Superman has trouble sleeping sometimes!"

You gotta give him props for the effort.

Have a Rockin' New Year

Merry Tennis Balls!

I must be one of those people. Those people that other people like to talk to.

A strange woman started talking to me in line at Starbucks. She asked me what to get a pedicurist for Christmas. After a 5 minute discussion (entirely on her end), 'we' decided that since you never get the same girl twice, and they are tipped already for their service, the Christmas present should be for the entire group of girls, and my new friend would make them a batch of cookies.

She then told me about her son, who really wanted a down vest and they went to Banana Republic, but you know how they’re preppy, and her son is preppy, but not THAT preppy, plus they cost about 80 dollars, so she went online to Land’s End, and they have these great jackets that are rated for 15 below, and they actually say that on the website with the ratings and the temperatures, so if it's rated for 15 below it must be good enough for L.A., so she ordered it, and it came yesterday…

And it was about then that I tuned out. I’m glad I was wearing sunglasses, otherwise she might have seen that glazed donut look in my eyes.

As she continued to tell me about this down jacket, and it’s miracle-ness…I realized that I must have a certain look. The look of a ‘listener’. I nod, I smile…so maybe I have that ‘therapist’ look to me. "And what do you think about that?" should be my common retort.

Or maybe I'm kindly. Like Santa Claus. I'm Miss Claus - tell me what you want, tell me about your son's down jacket. Talk to me.

Or maybe, the world is just so full of crappy people that when someone even appears remotely nice, friendly and 'there', you latch onto them like they are the only remaining vestige of a real human connection out there for you. I, the random starbucks patron, am the only woman who will listen to the tale of the pedicurist and the down jacket like it’s an Aesop fable, and nod knowingly at the end. I'll be kind, and allow the connection.

And that's a pretty sad state of humanity. When, even in the holiday season, you have to turn to strangers for a human moment. Tis the season to be cold and distant. Tis the season to be with your family, and ignore the beggar on the corner. Tis the season to say Bah Humbug. Well...not for me. I welcome being Miss Claus, and I welcome giving whatever I can.

As she wrapped up her story, grabbed her latte, she reached the moral to the fable – "You know how you keep a down jacket fluffy when you wash it?" I answered ‘no idea’ politely, and she looked knowingly at me, and said "tennis balls in the dryer".

She giggled, and slyly said "now the only problem is keeping them away from the dog!" - and we shared a moment of strange absurd laughter at the absurd story, the absurd moral, and the absurd Santa Claus/child on my knee relationship developed.

She left smiling, after my pat on the head. Miss Claus will be sure to deliver your cheer and whatever your hearts desire...even if it's only a latte and a kind ear.

Ho Ho Ho...Merry Christmas everyone!

Porn For Women

Tuesday Blues

Why?

I don't know. Just because.

Hot Damn

What amazing novelty is this?

Self-heating hot cocoa?

The light in the grocery store seemed to narrow and focus on the shelving with this glorious invention. Angels sung a symphony of praise and wonderment. Trumpets blared Vivaldi, and pimpley-faced clerks in red aprons bowed in humble worship.

Are you seriously telling me that without access to a microwave, without a stove, and even without the cave-man ability to make fire, milk a cow and shell cocoa beans, I am able to enjoy a lovely hot chocolately beverage?

With marshmallows?

My god, it’s a christmas miracle.