Thursday, November 20, 2008

Alpaca!

I don't believe an alpaca ever requires an explanation or justification, but I will just say that this captivating camelid turned up at the annual town festival in June, and no less than three people mocked me for being EXTREMELY EXCITED about it. Before that day I thought alpacas were possibly some kind of sheep, which was an idea I picked up during Debbie Fiderer's job interview with President Bartlet:

BARTLET
I saw your resume, so we don't need to talk about that. What have you been doing recently?

FIDERER
I'm an alpaca farmer.

BARTLET
Like the sweaters?

FIDERER
Before they're sweaters.

BARTLET
Uh-huh.

After the sweaters part, I was picturing some kind of weird sheep. But they're not some kind of weird sheep, they're some kind of weird camel. Or maybe some kind of weird llama. Or just some-kind-of-weird, full stop. Particularly when they're freshly shorn. Example:


Is it me, or does he kind of look like he's wearing PANTALOONS?

You might think, as I did, that a more amusing animal couldn't exist. But wait! There's more!


This hairstyle seems familiar, does it not? But where have you seen it before? Let us look more closely.


Yes, that's right. But for the eyeliner, this alpaca could double as Prince.


I have to say I never thought I would (a) spend as long as I just did looking at pictures of Prince, or (b) find a reason to mention Prince in this blog. But moving on. Alpacas not only have great hair but make very entertaining noises, and because they have side vision, if you talk to them, they turn their heads to the side and look at you intently with one eye, as if to say, I see that you are laughing at my elegant coiffure, and I am rising above it.

Alpacas have good tempers and don't spit, although if they did I guarantee you I'd find it funny and charming. Alpaca fiber is very soft and practically hypoallergenic. For normal people that just means it won't give you hives, but I take it as a sign that they evolved primarily for the purpose of being hugged. I believe alpacas could be an improving element in any home, office, party, or lifestyle. I would never be cranky if I had an alpaca. I would probably take up running again. And I would remember to take vitamins -- if I even needed them once I got an alpaca. No doubt the sun would shine more, and little forest animals would help us do our hair every morning, and someone would figure out how to save Social Security. Incidentally, I believe the same exact thing of capybaras. If everyone had a capybara, the world would be a better place. If everyone had a capybara AND an alpaca, it would be like paradise on earth. Or, possibly I was just meant to live in South America. Or a zoo. Or an asylum of some kind. Wherever, as long as there are alpacas.

Thursday, November 13, 2008

Tuesday, November 11, 2008

there are no stupid questions

Setting out for a hike in a relentless northern California rain, a ranger pulls up:
Ranger: Going for a hike?
I: yup!
Ranger: You got your rain gear?
co-spelunker: yup!
Ranger: But did you leave your brains at home?

12 miles later we pondered the same question as we hitchhiked back to our car...

Saturday, November 08, 2008

You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.

I ran across an article on the BBC website yesterday about the top ten most annoying things people say, and one of them was the use of the word "literally" when the person using it is not speaking literally at all. This conversation I heard recently came to mind as a perfect example and I am sharing it with you first of all as a cautionary tale and secondly because it still makes me laugh.

A: This depiction of reporters isn't actually realistic. I was a reporter for many years. For the most part, they're not that rabid.
B: But wasn't there ever a story you literally would have killed for?
A: No, I never would have killed someone for a story.
B: But literally, you wouldn't have killed for a story?
A: . . . No.

Thursday, October 30, 2008

The Abandoned Subway

About three weeks ago, I went with a couple of friends to see Rochester’s abandoned subway. This is a story I believe can be told almost entirely through disclaimers, so here is the first one:

Disclaimer: We were not trespassing. This was a tour given by the Canal Society of New York State, as part of Rochester’s River Romance festival. It’s still not clear to me how a dark, dusty underground cavern that smells strongly of urine in some places is romantic. Not surprisingly, at no point did any of my fellow tourists propose to any other tourists. For one thing, you do not want to get down on one knee in that dirt. You might as well roll in kitty litter. For another, they were probably waiting for the cemetary tour later in the weekend. Because you want to start a new life with the person you love in a place where corpses are decaying beneath your feet. That’s what we call romance in Rochester.

We started at the South Ave entrance, right next to Dinosaur Bar-B-Que. In the picture below, left to right: Minas Morgul (eye of Sauron out of order), the First Federal Building with the funny hat which apparently used to rotate, and the red brick Dinosaur building. And below that, a portal to what the River Romance guide calls “Rochester’s historic underbelly.” I have never heard of an “historic underbelly,” but I have heard of a “seedy underbelly” and I can only assume that’s what they meant.


Disclaimer: The abandoned subway is not safe and nobody should go down there even though I and two hundred other people did. The Canal Society of New York would like to turn the subway back into a canal, or something, it’s hard to picture exactly, and therefore opposes the city’s plan to fill it in. That’s why they hold these occasional tours. The city, however, makes the rather compelling argument that the tunnel is not structurally sound. So I repeat: people really should not go down there even though it is totally cool.

This was the last tour, and we just barely caught it. I didn’t actually see or hear the tour guide until the very end, because he was way ahead of us. Therefore, when I took this picture of hordes of people marching trustingly into pitch blackness, I could not be totally certain that the Pied Piper was not at the front of the line.


It’s tempting to make a lot of jokes about Moria. Like, if only I had Gandalf's magical 120-watt staff, I wouldn’t have had to use the flash on my camera and therefore catch all of the dust in the air.

Up these stairs, that’s where the orcs live.
Pretty sure they live here, too.
Oh, and definitely here.
I have no idea what this was for, but the fact that it has windows suggests how extremely different it must have once been down there. The way it is now, those windows would hardly let in any light at all, and even if they did, it isn’t as if there’s a view.

Little House in the Subway

Some parts of the subway were curiously pretty:




But those were the parts with sunlight. Once the tunnel goes underground, it becomes less pretty, and exponentially more menacing. We hadn’t realized they were going to let us roam free (I thought that would be asking for a lawsuit), and didn’t bring a flashlight. It started to look like this:


Here are the smart people with flashlights:



Here's one of the random pictures I took because I was using my flash to tell me what was in front of me:

I might die here, but at least Jesus loves me.

At a certain point, the absolute pitch blackness was too overwhelming, and we turned around. Moria jokes aside, it really was very much like being in a mine. Fascinating, and at the same time horrible and suffocating. In short, I’m glad we did it and gladder we came out alive.

The real value of the subway now, in my opinion, is the atmospheric combination of art and decay. It’s like a huge museum, but if the city of Rochester were to make it safe enough and palatable enough to be opened to the public, the effect would be completely ruined. For it to mean anything, it has to remain ungoverned, heading toward destruction. As Wallace Stevens says, Death is the mother of beauty.

Disclaimer: I have not scrutinized the graffiti in these photos. Even if I had, I would not have been able to figure out what most of it means. But I’m guessing much of it could be taken as offensive. Especially if you like grape Now and Laters. (Any opinions of grape Now and Laters expressed by graffiti artists are not necessarily those of the proprieters of this blog.)

In chronological order:

“Specialized To Vandalize”

Possibly Animatronic Thing In Blue

Possibly Organic Thing In Blue

Fishing

There’s something really ominous about that shovel.

Angry and Antennaed From Here To Oblivion

Few People are Familiar with Jackson Pollock's Brief "Badass" Period

See Above Disclaimer

I do not really know what this is...

...but I think it might be scary.

No comment.

Pretty colors.

Insert Final Insipid Caption Here.
I think uploading those pictures took more time than I spent in the tunnel. But there's one more. Upon emerging once again into sunlight and fresh air, this cement thing with weeds in it (garbage too, but I managed not to show it) struck me as beautifully natural. Happily, it is hiding the very bad words in the graffiti behind it.


Seriously kids, don't go down there.

Saturday, October 25, 2008

when life gives you lemons...

I: ugh, the hairdresser gave me BANGS. I don't know what to do with myself.
C: well, you could be sexy Sarah Palin for Halloween...

time to buy some barrettes.

Friday, October 24, 2008

Internet

I have had the internet for about half an hour. Already I have:

1. Checked my e-mail eight times.
2. Discussed Latin, Chaucer, Heath Ledger, and brush fires with Ivan.
3. Read dooce.com.
4. Watched a useless YouTube video.
5. Gotten unreasonably annoyed by the comments on the useless YouTube video.
6. Written a pointless blog post.

It's so good to be back!

Saturday, October 11, 2008

KILLER TREE

After meeting a live python in Marcella's living room, I didn't think I would be so sufficiently creeped out for quite awhile. Not much can rival a snake amidst your DVDs and comfy couches. And operating under this assumption I traveled to Sequoia/Kings Canyon National Park last weekend. A lovely place. Sequoia is full of non-threatening things like Very Large Trees and bears that mosey. I thought the most threatening thing about Sequoia was the campfire we started using some flame retardant cardboard that glowed green and smoked in a violent way... honestly, doesn't hold a candle to the python. But that was just day one...

Day two of the trip was spent in Kings Canyon-- an amazing place. Gorgeous views, scenic byways, killer trees, giant cave spiders, Sequoia cemeteries. Typical national park experience.

The day was beautiful and we decided to find a lunch spot... and for some reason picked a sad tree graveyard. I thought all the damage had been done by loggers, but then we passed this tree. Apparently the logging industry had NOTHING to do with the death of those giants-- it was all this guy. Asshole.

We left Killer Tree Grove before the Ents came to life and decided to see one of the lovely area caves. I read about the cave as we drove "wow, they've discovered new species of troglobites and pseudoscorpians in here!" To me this means nothing. The last movie I saw where someone explored a cave ended up in Fraggle Rock and I saw no reason this should end differently.

The cave tour was an hour long and looked boring, so the helpful cave ticket seller stuck out her tongue ring and suggested we take our headlamps across the street to the unofficial cavern. In retrospect, I see this as equal to the time the man running the ski lift told us if we didn't want to pay, we were welcome to walk up the mountain underneath the lift for free. Two hours later knee deep in loose shale, you start to realize you've been had. We shimmied into the cave and popped out into a shallow cavern. Cool! I'm spelunking! And then I swung my light around to look at my cave companion and realized we were not alone! Aside from the human, I was joined by a hoard of EXTREMELY large cave spiders. My Co-Spelunker will tell you they were not that intimidating, but honestly, HOLY FREAKING SHIT, CAVE SPIDERS. Yes. They looked like that. And I live in constant terror that not unlike the movie arachnophobia, I brought one home and it's currently nesting inside the cat. So I saw the giant cave spiders and I booked it out of that cave. In the interest of full disclosure I should mention that my co-spelunker had a broken leg and I left the poor man in there without even thinking. I am a horrible, horrible person that had absolutely no desire to die at the eight evil legs of one of those bastards. In defense of my co-spelunker: after dragging himself from the cave, he still gave me a ride home.

Thank goodness for the good souls.

Monday, September 29, 2008

Thursday, July 10, 2008

Not Taking This Seriously Anymore

Today's advice from my Worst-Case Scenario desk calendar: How to Foil a UFO Abduction

I find the assumptions they make about aliens to be interesting. First of all, why would an "extraterrestrial biological entity" necessarily want to abduct you? Why is abduction at the root of all human fear concerning aliens? It seems more likely to me that they'd come here to dump their garbage. And depending on how much they brought, we might WANT to go back with them.

Secondly, just because it's an alien doesn't mean it's psychic, so controlling your thoughts when faced with one may be a waste of energy. Anyway, I think it's a lot to ask of a person who has just been confronted with an alien simply to not freak out, much less control their thoughts. Similarly, I don't see why picturing yourself enveloped in a shield of white light is going to be remotely useful either, unless these aliens are as lame as you are and think white light equals safety.

As for the advice that you should "firmly tell the EBE to leave you alone"? You might as well scream STRANGER DANGER! at it. It's probably not going to speak English. Nor is there any reason to believe that body language is intergalactically universal.

As for their last resort -- "go for the EBE's eyes because you won't know what its other more sensitive areas are" -- I just want to point out that the alien pictured on this page looks exactly like a short, skinny human wearing a classic big-eyed alien mask. This leads me to believe that instead of going for its eyes, you should tackle it and threaten to tell Mom, because chances are good it's just your little brother.

(Incidentally, it turns out I owe myself ten dollars. See Previous Worst Case Scenario Post)

Tuesday, May 27, 2008

Pursuivant!

My new favorite word is "pursuivant". It is pronounced "per-sweeve-ant" by Rowan Atkinson in an episode of Black Adder entitled "The Witchsmeller Pursuivant"-- an episode that in no way clarifies what pursuivant means, but still makes me want to say "pursuivant!" all the time. Wikipedia seems to think it's some sort of an arms master, but I really don't care.

In light of this new! fabulous! multi-purpose! word (yes, I have decided it's multi-purpose -- "that's so pursuivant!" "he's so pursuivant!" "this is the most wretchedly pursuivant day I have ever experienced." --like hoopy-frood but with the versatility of a swear word) I present to you my latest craft project:

The Pursuivan-T

I couldn't take a decent picture while I was wearing it, but I promise you, it looks totally pursuivant.

Wednesday, May 21, 2008

Impertinence

Me: Couldn't you just remove both feet at the ankles?

Doctor: No.

Thursday, May 15, 2008

To the Sullen Teenaged Boy in the Passenger's Seat of the Pink Mary Kay Cadillac Parked at the Post Office

I'm very sorry I pointed and laughed at your mom's car. I didn't realize you were in it at the time or I definitely would have spared you that moment of humiliation. I would advise that next time you are forced to ride in that mockery of an automobile, you duck down and keep your head below the dashboard. Even with your shaggy emo haircut covering half your face, people can still recognize you. Other alternatives include riding on the floor of the back seat, riding in the trunk, or just flat-out refusing to get into Barbie's Pink Cadillac in the first place. If you can graduate early and move out of town to start fresh, I would recommend that as well.

Anyway, please don't kill yourself or anyone else. There's always the hope that your mom's streak of sales successes will peter out and Mary Kay will take the car back. There's also sabotage, or if all else fails, sue. She may be your mother, but did you ask to be born? Moreover, did you ask to be born to someone obsessed with makeup? No you certainly did not. And I think a judge would agree with you. Maybe a normal family would adopt you. If not, you could at least use your settlement money to move to New York and start a band, which is what you were really meant to do. High school, smalls towns, Mary Kay cars, these things are not for you. Forget that stupid car; take your sullenness and your shaggy haircut and go conquer the world.

Regards,
Simon

Tuesday, May 13, 2008

Purple Way of Delight

This is one of my favorite times of year in Los Angeles. The Jacaranda's are blooming and entire city blocks are filled with periwinkle and sunlight. Sometimes, when I drive to work, I feel like Anne, seeing the Avenue for the first time.

Tuesday, May 06, 2008

I meant to write about my trip to Germany, but my computer didn't make it out in one piece and I didn't think anyone would believe the post about grown men and women dressed as garden patches, wearing overalls made of astro turf and butterfly headbands, drinking on the rainy streets in 34 degree weather without some photographic evidence. Or that time they marched a stuffed doll through the city in the dead of night carrying torches and whispering "wooo, wooo" while wearing green wigs and furry elephant costumes and then set the doll on fire. I'm not sure I believe it.

And I meant to start writing regularly once my job slowed down and I officially had nothing better to do, but the job never slowed down and I am consistently having to remind myself "DON'T PANIC, this will all be over soon. Soon you will remember what a weekend is like". But that's still four weeks away, so in the meantime I have been distracting myself with semi-complicated art projects. Behold: The Chalkboard Wall.



I even took the time to bribe Gilbert P. Kitten into posing in front of The Chalkboard Wall. It only took six cans of unopened cat food to get him to sit on that table.



I use the chalkboard wall to keep track of my workouts. This is why it says "GO SWIM" in giant letters. I wake up in the morning and I think "seriously? I should get out of bed NOW? This seems like a bad idea" and I see the "GO SWIM" and I think, "well maybe". And then I go back to sleep, because the kind of person who thinks a chalkboard wall will motivate her to get in the pool, is not the kind of person who actually drags herself out of bed for laps. She is the kind of person who doodles in the columns later so they don't look so empty.

Tuesday, April 29, 2008

Hedgehog Politics



This is my desk at work. The post it note in the corner was balled up and thrown at me from an adjoining cubicle. It reads "The guy behind me just called Ryan Seacrest a genius. Where did my life go so wrong?"

Thursday, April 17, 2008

Up Too Early

Driving to the airport. 4:30 am.

Me: Wow, the moon is even BIGGER now!
Dad: I keep telling you, it's because we're getting closer.
Mom: It's dented though.
Me: What a piece of junk.
Dad (sadly): Should have hung it up with a screw, not a nail.

Monday, April 14, 2008

And That's the Day He Started to Refer to Her as Iron Fist in His Head

In the library.

Father: Go tell your sister two minutes.
Little brother: Dad says two minutes.
Big sister: You may be quiet now, thank you.

Wednesday, March 26, 2008

Worst Case Scenario

Last Christmas we had Secret Santas at work, and my secret santa noticed that my 2007 desk calendar was going to run out soon. This 2007 calendar was the best desk calendar I have ever had, as it gave me 365 archaic words to use at the rate of one a day, which is really the limit in terms of how quickly a person can absorb new vocabulary. My favorite word arrived on January 17th and I never did find anything better.

snoodle v. To rub and scratch and attend assiduously to pigs

This year's calendar is not quite of the same persuasion, unless I happen to be in a scenario in which someone steals my pig, because thanks to W. H. Long's Dictionary of the Isle of Wight Dialect, I now know that having snoodled it is a reasonably good way to prove that it is in fact mine. But I do not have a pig. So let's move on.

The 2008 calendar is a Worse Case Scenario calendar.

So far, some have been quite helpful. HOW TO SPOT A RABID ANIMAL. Having had some experience with this, I learned nothing new, but I thought it was at least practical, as was HOW TO LOSE SOMEONE WHO IS FOLLOWING YOU ON FOOT. Occasionally one does find oneself on a dark street. You never know.

But then there was the one called HOW TO FALL DOWN A FLIGHT OF STAIRS and I thought, "Well that's just silly. Jump!" Naturally I am taking this too literally, but since their advice involves the sentence "concentrate on rolling on major muscle groups" I have to ask myself whether my response doesn't actually make more sense. Most people, when they're falling down the stairs, hardly know they're falling until they've stopped, but the calendar wants you to have the presence of mind to "reduce speed and maximize control." Well, of course. And that would be easy if, say, you were driving a car. But when you're falling down stairs, you're pretty busy . . . falling down stairs.

For a while this one was my favorite: On the weekend of January 19-20th I am informed of four steps to take in order to "outwit a pack of wolves." That's what it's entitled: HOW TO OUTWIT A PACK OF WOLVES. Not how to escape them or scare them or injure them or hide from them; how to outwit them. I was envisioning sitting down with them on a hillside and tricking them into drinking iocane powder, but what you are actually supposed to do is not get chased into a lake. That seems self-evident to me in any scenario, but I'm no expert.

And then they just got weird. HOW TO SURVIVE A HOSTAGE SITUATION. Where am I that I'm going to be taken hostage?

The very next day: HOW TO ESCAPE IF TRAPPED IN A LION CAGE. Why am I in a lion cage? How did I get there? Did I go into it voluntarily? Because in that case, considering how much effort it would probably take to put myself in such a dangerous situation, I deserve to be eaten. Or, did someone drug me and dump my body there? If so, it would be better to know HOW TO TELL WHETHER ANYONE HAS IT IN FOR YOU. Or at the very least HOW NOT TO END UP IN A LION CAGE.

I assumed it couldn't get more unlikely than me being in a lion cage but I think they're working their way into absurdity as the year progresses because today it says HOW TO BAIL OUT OF A STREET LUGE.

1. What is a street luge?
2. No really, what is a street luge?
3. Who the hell has a street luge?
4. Is street-luging a recognized sport?
5. Is the picture, which shows a person basically flying out of a gutter (there's even a drainage grate), in any way accurate?
6. Why would you get into a hobby that involved literally being in the gutter?
7. Is not the very name of a street luge a sign of its being dangerous?
8. If your street luge goes out of control, is this not in fact an example of natural selection at work?

The best part is that tomorrow says HOW TO SURVIVE NUCLEAR FALLOUT, as if having to bail out of your street luge and being in the vicinity of a nuclear bomb explosion are in any way on the same level of worst cases. I guess maybe the detonation might blow you off your street luge, but if that happened, breaking your leg or getting run over by a car probably won't matter that much.

I will bet $10 that before the year is out there's going to be one about alien life forms landing on earth. Oh, I hope there is.