Saturday, June 30, 2007

Ratattouie


Speaking of children (and still not speaking of cats -- just rats) this afternoon the Chef and I went to see a crowded matinee showing of the new foodie Pixar movie "Ratattouie."

There were lots of children in the theater, but everyone made loud noises in appropriate places. It reminded us that sometimes it's fun to see a movie in a crowded theater and not just from a sofa seat at home.

Thumbs up, way up -- we recommend seeing this movie in the middle of the day with lots and lots of children in attendance, because it will make you smile that the adults will still make the biggest gasps, laughs and huzzahs.

Thursday, June 28, 2007

Accomplishments

Tonight I hung out with a bunch of friends who are moms, and I never once compared their children to my cats, not even when they talked about how their babies kept trying to destroy their record collections. I just smiled and nodded and didn't mention cats. When I got home I told the Chef all about it and he was very impressed that I was so restrained.

Sunday, June 24, 2007

Do the Whirlwind!


Recent Discoveries:

Jackfruit tastes like Juicyfruit gum, except better because you can swallow it instead of spit out, thus it won't get stuck to the bottom of a shoe.

Sock monkeys make people loosen up and laugh.



If you avoid drinking Absinthe and switch to Aviations, your head will still hurt the next day.

Architecture in Helsinki have embraced a new Salt n' Pepa style 80's sound -- jury still out on this drum machine twist.

Who knew (at my age) I'd find myself obsessed with animated characters from Norway who drink beer, kids in Oakland on Scraper bikes (thanks DJ BC) and dogs wearing wigs. Mid life crisis alert?

Combining flamenco dancing with hip hop beats is a nice mix - especially when you get to see it performed live, from a balcony seat (away from a flailing crowd.)

When you get out on the sidewalk and start mocking someone's mad dancing skillz, you will most certainly whack your hand against a mailbox and make it bleed. Ouch. I deserved that.

If the Tracy Jordan character from "30 Rock" moved to Brazil and joined a band, he would sound like Carolinos Brown (who surrounds himself with dancing girls wearing sailor hats and a Spinal Tap-esque backdrop of two huge blue blow up kissing fish.) The video is subdued in comparison.

Even if I stay in my pajamas all morning it won't slow down the weekend.

Wednesday, June 13, 2007

Happy Birthday Irish Goddess!

Even though the Irish Goddess is celebrating her birthday ALL MONTH (it's true) today is actually her real birthday. June 13th -- the day she was born to unleash her acerbic wit, endless talents and scary smarts upon the world. Irish Goddess has always been an inspiration to me, starting in Junior High and then high school when she stomped through the smoking section between the two buildings and didn't give a fig if idiots yelled cowardly things in her direction. I thought -- I want to be like that! I want to be myself and tell everyone else to piss off! Irish Goddess has always been punk rock (despite her favorite band being the Rolling Stones.)

Even though she lives far away, it's been a joy to be part of her world and keep in touch with her via pictures and stories and shout outs in the comments section. She showed me how this sort of modern day communication makes sense and inspired me to start this thing.

Thanks Irish Goddess -- and HAPPY BIRTHDAY (MONTH)!

(maybe this weekend I'll dig through boxes and find some picture of us wearing braces and threaten to post it here.)

Tuesday, June 12, 2007

Shrimp Bombe

On Sunday the Rodeo Queen (in recovery) and the Great & Powerful Oz (so true) invited us to a Shrimpfest fundraiser feast -- with special guests the White Boot Brigade ( "a group of Louisiana shrimpers working to preserve the Gulf's culinary heritage through sustainable shrimping and alternative marketing.") It only took us two seconds to yell "YES" and give up all our money to those slow food shrimpers. Lots of other people were also interested in shrimp (go figure!) and when we arrived it was a bit of a mad house, with people who were told to wait out on the patio deciding to fend for themselves and returning with big plates of boiled wild shrimp and giant mounds of corn and green beans (my favorite). We were taught tricks by the determined women at the patio table next to us and then we passed those tricks on to others (and we all ended up happily well-fed.)


The Chef will be the first to tell you that I don't like shrimp. I especially hate those frozen pink blobs that are served over the holidays with red sauce and presented on iceberg lettuce like it's some kind of special treat. Is this a sad, we-live-far-away-from-the-ocean, Midwestern tradition? Blech! However, this shrimp was so wild it jumped out of the water with tail and tentacles intact. I still can't say I enjoy the messy decapitation part and then there is the uh, other thing, that middle bit that shall not be mentioned. (I still feel queasy.) However, listening to New Orleans Jazz and surrounded by good hearted people, I leapt right into the shrimp eating fun. I know that the Great & Powerful Oz felt the same way because she started eating corn, until the Rodeo Queen (in recovery) reminded her that she was allergic.


Afterwards we convinced TRQ (IR) and TG&PO to join us for ice cream at ICI because we were in the East Bay and felt like it was something we had to do since we DROVE ALL THAT WAY ACROSS THE BRIDGE and we had never been there. We had only see pictures of their fancy ice cream sandwiches in the newspaper. We faced another long line, this one of east bay ice cream eaters. I followed the Rodeo Queen (in recovery)'s "OMG THE APRICOT! THE APRICOT!" suggestion and (of course) she was so right. ICI also served giant fantasy meringue ice cream "bombe" things, which made me go all ice cream heaven hysterical frenchie "Bohmb, Bohmb, Bohmb"until the Great & Powerful Oz countered with her ice cream heaven hysterical American "Bahm! Bahm! It's Bahm!" Then we doubled dared each other to blog about it. Do I win? hee hee.

This it NOT your neighborhood ice cream parlor. Bombe (looks like just a section of it) in upper right hand corner.

Friday, June 08, 2007

Four Eyed Monsters

I'm only telling you this because I am your friend.

If you have 71 minutes and want to see a fantastic movie (free! but only for a week) click here - it's at the place um, you know, the place, so that's how I know about it.



Please do -- LOGIN (at the place) AND VOTE (and I guess you still need to join the other place, they haven't reached their goal yet - but they are close to $18,000.) It's easy and painless and this is how stuff works in this modern age. It's so easy, it's easier than dialing the phone and asking a congress person how to vote. I'm not saying that this is fair. You'd be surprised at how many normal people don't bother to do these things. It makes sense, but it doesn't.

Why? Because it's totally worth it to support cool things in this world.

DO IT!

Monday, June 04, 2007

Mr. Pollen Pants

Buzzzzz --- check out the Pollen Pants on this bee! He is wearing puffy yellow leg warmers. Below is Mr. Pollen Pants abuzz over one of our wrinkly petal variety poppies. The Chef says they are "Breadseed" Poppies. So, next time you crunch into a three-seed baguette I hope visions of these fancy flowers dance through your head. Not bumble bees.

Sunday, June 03, 2007

Arcade Ants

Oh Arcade Fire -- you are so far away, and I am here, sitting on a 70 degree slope of cold lumpy grass, trying to pay attention to your joyous Canadian shoutings. It's a challenge, as I'm surrounded by people on their cell phones, checking their e-mail, and talking nonstop throughout the entire song about how good the song is "I love this song, it's a good song, do you like this song? Which song do you like? What a good song! Yeah! I like this one" (the song is over now, but they are still talking.)

And when did smoking become cool again? Or are we accidentally sitting in the smoking section? If all of the outside world is a giant smoking section, did we enter the lumpy grass seating area with a sign pointing "Hip Smokers! Enter Here!"? I watch as the girls in front of us kindly direct their smokey exhales into their neighbor's faces and then stub out their cigarettes next to them on the lumpy grass area where their friends will sit when they get back from the beer stand. Did the sign near the lumpy grass seating area say, "Welcome concert goers! Grab a seat in our uncomfortable giant ash tray!"?

When you launch into my favorite song (Antichrist Television Blues) from the new album "Neon Bible" the annoying drunk guy wearing a baseball hat leaps to his feet in front of me and starts doing a crazy epileptic dance. I panic, thinking -- uh oh, now will I think of this idiot every time I hear this song? Have I ruined my enjoyable listening experience of an Arcade Fire song by simply attending this sold out concert? If I do not ponder it for too long, perhaps the image will leave my brain. Except for now I've written it down, making it more of a challenge to forget. Crap! Panic attack!

I have just overheard some first date conversation from the people next to me who have their legs intertwined. They have invaded my personal space and the hulky dude is touching my arm as he asks his date what she's doing July 17th and, if she's free, does she want to go to a wedding with him? Later, when we move away from them their back pack rolls down the hill and hits me.

I look at the Chef and he apologetically smiles at me. I say "Blah Blah Blah. I'm not having fun. Blah Blah Blah Blah."

Sorry Arcade Fire. I'm glad that you are still full of joyous Canadian shoutings and that, despite your huge popularity, you have refused to sell out to the man, won't play venues that are run by the corporate mafia and remain on a cool indie record label (go Merge!). I respect and admire you, but I'm easily distracted and I can't feel your madcap energy from so far away - even when your guitarist climbs the stadium rafters. Even when Regine Chassagne skips around the stage between playing accordion and the hurdy-gurdy(!).

As we are walking back to BART and trying not to follow the young people who are returning to their UC Berkeley dorm rooms, I say to the Chef, "Next time we come to the Greek Theater (a gift from William Randolph Hearst!) we'll show up early so we can sit on the cold hard concrete seats instead of the cold lumpy grass." He replies, "Will there be a next time?" I put on my ski hat (because even though it's June, summer concert season is foggy and windy in the Bay Area) and respond, "Yeah, probably not."