Halloween -Miss Manners style

Once a lady has procured her accoutrements for the evening festivities, she must confirm the agenda of her night with her companions.  This can be a somewhat tedious and diplomatic process.

Should one perhaps attend the dinner engagement on the north side of town that will be ripe with young gentlemen dressed as American Gladiators?  One's first reaction would be yes but careful investigation into photos of last year's engagement reveal mostly flaxen, stacked ladies dressed as slutty Pocahontas or Victoria Beckham.

Ah, it has become quite clear that this particular affair is what I would prudently label a "porn goggles" party. Everywhere you look, resembles a scene from a pornographic video usually with a five ladies to dude ratio and all of them scantily clad and ready to have relations on the coffee table.  This is a common occurrence when the hosts of said party are single males.

Certainly not a confidence booster whilest one is dressed as a prepubescent boy in an adult set of footed pajamas.   Perhaps the affair in the mission will be more promising. Let's assess:

Party of a close acquaintance?  Check.
In an easily accessible area?  Check.
Surrounded by equally entertaining places to hop (just in case)?  Check.
Good ratio of men to women (based on the invite list)?  Check.

I think we have an evening of it.

The old skool protein shake

This weekend, one of my co-workers invited me to a Critter Salon event called "Eat Bug Eat!" where I ate deep-fried wax moth caterpillars in creme fraiche and salsa verde.

It was pretty wicked to see them go from squirmy would-be sweater eaters to pizza toppings in under a minute.  They thrashed around, their heads bucking wildly back and forth as if to separate themselves from their bodies until they went limp.  THEN their bodies gradually popped and decompressed slightly.  Someone perked up and asked if they thought insects could feel pain with no basic nervous system etc.  I imagine that popping sound was their souls going to arthropod heaven.

They tasted subtle and nutty and heavily fried, as all things liberally doused in veggie oil taste...like a meaty corn nut, very crunchy and snackable.

I prefer to eat them without toppings due to their delicate flavor.  One runs the risk of overpowering them if one adds too many strong ingredients.

One of the salon members said they were often eaten live and gave me permission to try it out but I did not taste anything in particular.  It was gushy and popped in my mouth as a salmon egg might but there was no flavor.  I could have been chewing on a piece of notebook paper. 

Critter Salon offered several different types of caterpillars for tasting but they all tasted very similar.  I wished they had some grasshoppers or ant eggs or worm tequila shots or other to compare and contrast to the 'pillars'.

Keyboard Max Balloon Cat

This always happens.

Every year I say, "I'm not gonna do Halloween.  It is a reeediculous holiday." Then I congratulate myself on acting mature.  Then I buy myself a pot of nail polish or something that I equate with women of caliber such as Meryl Streep.  Then I am a frantic mess on October 30th.

This year will be different.  We are adults now.  I had major reconstructive surgery, been dumped twice, unemployed and poor, employed and rich (relatively).  That was a major slambang injection of adulthood and I plan on embracing it.  This year I am itinerizing my Halloween.

First, the costume:

Idea #1: Keyboard Cat - Grab a toy keyboard, a blue shirt and some cat ears.
Pros: culturally relevant, easy streets and funny
Cons: not wanting to lug keyboard around on dancefloor,

Idea #2: Balloon Boy - Also easy, just get helium mylar balloon at Safeway and tie to my waist.
Pros: easy, cheap, hyuk-hyuk funny
Cons: not that funny after family turned out to be whoring their plush child for media attention.


Idea #3: Max from Where the Wild Things Are - a major production.
Pros: really cute, warm and anti-strumpet costume
Cons: Need to sew a costume (which hasn't been done since grade school)


to be continued...

Too boyish to date

It is 11pm on a Thursday night and I am 2 hours late for my date with Ben.  I loathe you Powerpoint.  What are you good for really? I just want to make a simple, curved arrow and you can't even do that without trying to autoformat something.

Text communications to and fro read something like this:

Me:   sorry im L8. Had 2 stay @ work. 4 the record, i had a cute dress pickd out.
Him: its ok. it will be more realistic. i now have 2 hrs tardiness credit.
Me:   we could reschedule or have a really L8 date?
Him: but i spent 2 hrs on my hair. Want me 2 pick u up?

Ben picks me up from BART and we dig deep for darts and popcorn.  I learn that aside from being a Kentucky native, he has invented something that will make cell phone batteries last longer.  He's one of those guys that is not a hottie, not a super smooth, well-dressed, ladies man but extremely smart and witty and easy to be with.  I picture this guy taking care of his lady and her not needing to lift a finger.  We make out in his car until 2 in the morning then set a date for Sunday.

Fast forward to Sunday.  He arrives to pick me up for our hiking date wearing jeans, a button-down shirt and a leather jacket and I'm wearing chacos and soccer shorts.  Complete mismatch.  I hop onto his motorbike and the metal is kinda melting my leg but it is so exciting.  We zip through the hills and I clutch onto his waist for dear life.  It feels really nice.  We hike for two hours and talk about everything from using a thresher to harvest corn to what the Appalachian mountains look like.  He says, "You ask a lot of questions."

I confess that I need a shower and invite him to have dinner at my house. 

I cook, we eat, and we're sitting around my room while he scopes out my one-armed lobster painting, my 'love stinks' cross stitch sampler, my stop motion storyboards and my 'violent moments in soccer history enacted by puppets' photos.  I tell him about getting slide tackled in pickup soccer and the subsequent knee surgery.  I ask if he wants to get ice cream and he pauses.  He exhales slowly and says,"Actually, I'm really tired.  I think I'll go home."  It is 7pm. 

I ask if anything is wrong.

"(Pause) I'm really into girly girls and when I met you at that party, you were in a dress and heels and I assumed you were really feminine.  Then you started in on the soccer talk and I kind of knew. And Thursday I was just really drunk." 

"(Another pause, this time from me) No problem."

"You're taking this really well.  Maybe we can hang out as friends sometime."

I shrug my shoulders and see him out.  I should have seen this coming.  While hiking, he confessed to a "cheerleader phase" in high school.  After all, I'm no goddamn homecoming queen.

Maggots, M*A*S*H and the Plantation

Have you ever been to a speakeasy party? It looks like this:

These ladies, minus the transvestite at the end, are attire appropriate. Ladies will latch on to any old excuse to dress cute and dance the Charleston, and the guys don't really have to dig too deep, just don a hat and some suspenders.

I recently went to one of these and met a bevy of intriguing people:


1) Kevin- Everyone's first question to him is,"How'd you get the eyepatch?" His answer,"Have you eaten yet?" Turns out it has something to do with a bacteria in his eye and maggots. He is a superb storyteller and to this day, I still have my doubts. I have heard of medicinal maggots, but the eye? It seems drastic. He and I decide to start a game of bocce ball and he invites...





2) Ed- He's pretty hilarious, but more importantly he sounds like someone I know. Kevin and I conference while Ed talks with his girlfriend: "Well I dunno, maybe someone with a nasally voice...He kinda looks like that guy from that series....I got it...Oh, that's him.....Well don't tell him!" Ed is a carbon copy of Alan Alda from M*A*S*H. We subtly suggest he adopt an Australian accent for no good reason (to deter the A.A. comparisons) and Ed good-naturedly asks why. He's gotten the Alan Alda before and strangely, Quentin Tarantino. We need a fourth and invite...




3) Ben- He snuck into the party uninvited but he paid his entrance fee and isn't leaving. He is a Kentucky native and a Ph.D grad from Cal. He paid for his entire college education by renting land from his father and growing tobacco and corn on it, starting at the age of 13. He got tobacco poisoning by 16 and is a smoker at 30. He confesses, his parents live on a "Gone With the Wind" style plantation.

I am losing at bocce ball. I balance the bocce ball on my bicep to simulate a muscle and blame the unevenness of the dirt for my losses. It doesn't matter though because Ben just asked me out and I'm happy as a jaybird.

To be continued....

I have a history of infographilia

Every time I visit my parents, I walk into my room and go through something like re-entry shock. As astronauts must again acclimate to the earth's atmosphere, I must readjust to my childhood room.

I forget that it still looks like a fairy princess dream. Pink blinds, pink nameplate, purple comforter and a glass window jewelry box that contains snowflake earrings and cheap birthstone rings that turned my skin green. My ceiling is encrusted with glow-in-the-dark stars. I snoop around to rediscover my own treasure.

I stumble across my diaries and lay back to enjoy the angst. I received my first one when I was 5 years old. It too was pink and gagging with hello kitty. After skimming VERY shallowly, here's a breakdown of its' contents:

75% - interactions with people and subsequent confusion at what was being said
20% - boys (imaginary scenarios and real, but the imaginary ones are more interesting)
5% - grab bag

Nothing amazing, what was really fascinating was that everything was explained using primitive, first-grader infographics. For example, "I like Greg. Does he like me?" would be accompanied with a drawing of a flower, each petal labeled 'l' or 'ln'. This translates to 'loves me' or 'loves me not'. Huh. That's weird.

I bounch off my bed, unzip my overnighter bag and push through clothes, books, chargers and ah hah...there it is, my current diary. It has a sleek black leather cover with a band to keep it closed. Each page is mono chromatically tuned to off white with sterling grey hairlines. I write in it with special, 0.5 tipped, black ink pens that can only be purchased in Japantown. No chintzy ballpoints for this diary.

I flip through it and sure enough...

Infographics everywhere. This infographic illustrates my favorite sleeping positions when someone else is also occupying the bed.

Other infographics include:
1. Things I'll be able to do when I can walk again
2. Reasons to break up with my bf (an outline)
3. Reasons I love Tee.
4. Scenarios during which, I'll need someone to carry me (part two of the knee surgery saga)
5. What I ate and where at the Street Foods festival.


At least I'm consistent.

This tastes like burning.

My best friend Tee has been doing field research in Guatemala for the past month. She studies amphibians and spends long wet nights camped in the forest for days at a time. My over eagerness for her return is on par with a golden retriever:

"I can pick you up from the airport?"
"Do you want me to drop off your car?"
"I'll make you a sandwich."

When she does come back, she is toting what appears to be an industrial-sized rice sack along with her field gear. Being white and unlabeled, it peaks my interest, much like unlabeled booze. If I was a worldly traveler of culture and refinement I'd stroke my pencil thin mustache and say:

"Hola, mi vida! ¿Dónde usted encontró este bolso rústico fino y qué contiene? (Hello dearest one! Where did you find this fine, rustic bag and what does it contain?)

but in reality, I said:

"What's with the bag? Is it full of bananas?"


Turns out it's 7 pounds worth of raw coffee beans. She had been looking to buy some authentic Guatemalan coffee and it only came raw and in 7 pound doses.

What should we do tonight, watch Sex in the City as we usually do on Thursdays, or skillet roast coffee beans on the stove?

Tee poured out a handful of raw beans and they looked naked and albino, a lilliputian nudist beach in Ireland. I put one in my mouth. It tasted like sand.

A little research on the Interweb and in one hour we are setting off fire alarms with the pungent smell of burning coffee. We did a little tag team maneuver where Tee stirred and shook the coffee over flames for 5 minutes for every 1 of mine (weak forearms). They ripen from a musty khaki color to a glossy black very quickly. Be careful. Mistakes were made but essentially, it boils down to this:

1. De-shell the coffee beans.
2. Heat up a wok to 500 degrees F. (or rev up the popcorn popper)
3. Add the beans and keep stirring them for 5 minutes so they don't burn.
4. Remove the hot beans to a colander before they are the desired color and let them rest.
5. Eat with chocolate

Why eat with chocolate, you might ask.

"This tastes burnt."
"Well here, eat it with a handful of chocolate."
"Oh, that's much more like coffee, a mocha perhaps."

We are no connoisseurs but wow, it was pretty sabroso.