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Archive for October, 2009

Social Cues 102

A little moment from “Seinfeld,” Episode No. 145, “The Little Jerry” (fast forward to 4:50, enjoy the exchange and the Spanish subtitles. Woohoo!)


If you don’t have time to watch, here is the transcription of the key exchange:

JERRY: You asked her out?

GEORGE: Well…not “out.” She’s in prison.

JERRY: How could you ask her out?

GEORGE: Why not?

JERRY: I remember when you wouldn’t date that girl who lived in Queens because you didn’t want to go over the bridge!

GEORGE: That was different!

JERRY: I’ll say.

GEORGE: Jerry, I like being with her. Plus, I know where she is all the time. I have relatively no competition. And you know how you live in fear of the pop-in?

JERRY (shudders): The pop-in.

GEORGE: Yeah, no pop-in, no “in the neighborhood,” no “I saw your light was on.” And the best part is, if things go really well…

JERRY: Conjugal visit?

GEORGE (giddy): Don’t jinx it!

People don’t appreciate the pop-in. Well, let me be clear. I don’t like the pop-in. It isn’t that I’m not social or that I don’t like spontaneity. It is just that I have a pretty tight schedule and unexpected events mean I have to retool that schedule. Without the time-management plan, I can’t get everything done.

My advice: If you are considering a pop-in visit, make sure the object of your attention likes them too. Otherwise it is just selfish.

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Death of a dream

I received the following depressing e-mail yesterday:

Hi Ruben and Beth,

Unfortunately, we only received seven applications for the Mexico 2009 off-campus programs.
I had hoped that a few more might come in this week, but no luck.

I have notified the applicants that the trip has been canceled for this year—hopefully we will be able to schedule it again in the future.

Blaine

There needs to be at least 12 students. What happened to all the “I’m going!” folks? I was really looking forward to conducting this off-campus program. On the bright side, I now have two extra weeks of freedom in December.

No Guanajuato mummy museum for me

No Museo de las Momias for me


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I just used that word in a text message to Trish the Human. I was typing it before I realized I had even thought of it. This is how I work.

The Urban Dictionary defines it as “an expression of disdain, disbelief, protest, or dismissal; a huff, grunt, or snort.” The site defines the word in other, less savory ways as well, but I’m not going to go into that.

It’s a good, useful word, and it conveys plenty of meaning in just seven letters. In case you are curious, I harumphed at Trish because she has been sick for two weeks but won’t go see a doctor. I said she was like my third child. She replied, “Fourth.” I said, “Yes. Fourth. Harumph,” which says a lot.

"Harumph" by kXXchan

"Harumph" by kXXchan

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Yet another poop post

It’s been a crap-tastic week, literally and figuratively. There is a lot going on right now, and not a lot of it is good. Family health issues, mainly. Dissertation procrastination also.

Dominic just capped off the week with a shout from the bathroom: “Mama, will you wipe my butt?” Sigh. I’m going to remind him of this when I meet his first girlfriend. And much, much later, I’ll shout it myself in the nursing home. Ah, the joy of being very old or very young.

Suri Cruise poop sculpture

Suri Cruise poop sculpture

Above loveliness is from this article.

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I don’t usually consider the poop of others, unless one of my sons is telling me about his, or one of the dogs has to go out. However, I was forced to consider Trish the chicken and her system when I saw this:

The frightening thing is that I almost slipped in it. Yes, I would have posted a photo of that. I have no shame.

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Social Cues 101

Hints for the houseguest

Hints for the houseguest

Here are five ways to tell if you have overstayed your welcome in someone’s home:

1. Your hosts start yawning, and talking about how much they have to do the next day.

2. Their eyes begin to glaze over.

3. They leave the room and the conversation, such as it is, to take a phone call. A long call.

4. They reappear in their pajamas.

5. They announce that they are going to bed.

My advice is to get the hint at No. 1. Some people don’t. A couple of visitors to our house have made it to No. 5. Repeatedly. And it isn’t like we go to bed at 10 p.m. when we have guests. I’d like to think we are just so interesting that we make people want to linger. But I suspect we attract a certain kind of stray: nice people who are maybe a little lonely. A few folks are welcome to stay for weeks. You know who you are.

I like this cartoon. I don't, of course, like the error.

I like this cartoon. I don't, of course, like the error.

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Never Forever 21

I first heard about the store Forever 21 from a student in one of my classes a couple of weeks ago. That same week, a graduate student in another class was wearing a cute outfit and she said she got it at Forever 21. I was at the mall yesterday, so I went in.

Up until that point, I had never felt particularly old. True, the occasional “Diff’rent Strokes” joke did fall flat in class, but I could live with that. But surrounded by St. Vincent’s students and hoochie clothes, I knew I was way out of my element. I felt like Jimmy Stewart in “Vertigo.”

How I felt at Forever 21

How I felt at Forever 21

My wrinkles and I left immediately, never to return.

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I watched “Survivor” tonight and rolled my eyes when Shambo (Shambo!) let a chicken escape and her tribe freaked out. I actually said, “They should stop chasing it. It will come back to the cage at night.” And those words were preceded by that old-ladyish “tsk” sound. I don’t even know what to say about myself. I can’t believe it has come to this.

Here is some video of Trish and me. Two are as one.

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Sprouts by request

Here is my hyper-locally famous recipe for Brussels sprouts:

Cover the bottom of a large frying pan with sesame oil. Add minced garlic and sea salt.

Step 1: oil, garlic, sea salt

Step 1: oil, garlic, sea salt

Wash the sprouts, cut off the stems, and cut them in half lengthwise. Place them in the pan, cut side down. Drizzle more oil and sprinkle more sea salt on top.

Step 2: add sprouts cut side down and drizzle more oil on top

Step 2: add sprouts cut side down and drizzle more oil on top

Heat covered on medium high for 10-15 minutes until they are brown on the cut side. Under no circumstances should you leave them cooking while you check to make sure your chicken has food and water. This is what will happen:

Step 3: brown them, don't burn them

Step 3: brown them, don't burn them

Once they are browned, turn heat to low and cook for 5-10 minutes more. Add more salt if necessary to counteract residual bitterness.

That’s it: a crowd pleaser!

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Trish and Ed had mentioned the Jaguars’ halftime hot dog buffet for the media, but I’m not a fan of hot dogs unless they have the processed cheese in the center. Still, I decided to dig in, despite the unappetizing presentation of the dogs swimming in amber brack.

The famed hotdog buffet

The famed hotdog buffet

It was a decision I would regret.

The game was a blowout. The crowd started singing “Na na na na, hey hey, goodbye” with more than four minutes left. The Titans went home 0-4 and very sad.

I met up with Ed outside the press conference room. Inside, there were a dozen or so print folks and eight people with video cameras. Jaguars head coach Jack Del Rio read from the standard coach script: “It was a solid team effort” and “we were solid throughout.” I didn’t care about any of that stuff because something else had attracted my attention: a very large man doing illicit things to a cigar. He was wearing what looked like a fern-patterned muumuu.

The man in the muumuu

The man in the muumuu

He asked this astute question of Del Rio: “Is the quickness the key to being a better team?” Um, I don’t know much about football, but I’m going to say, “Yes.”

After we left the meat locker temps of the press conference room, we went to the actual locker rooms. The Titans’ one was quite wee and covered in discarded knee, elbow and ankle wraps. The Jaguars’ one is like the Taj Mahal. While I was writing down that note, Ed told me to look over his shoulder. And there was the tight end of a corner back. It was Ed’s way of making me more aware and cautious. And I was. I took a lot of notes so that I could better avert my eyes.

The players exhibit a lot more patience with people in their space when they are naked than I would. One TV guy was doing live shots — live shots! — in the locker room. They may be used to it, but I’m certainly not.

Fern muumuu was roaming around and gnawing his cigar. He is about 5-feet-4-inches tall and wide, and makes a “Where the Wild Things Are”-style cacophony when he walks.

Ed has one cardinal rule regarding locker room interviews: He won’t interview a player until he is dressed. The player, that is, not Ed. I would think Ed is usually fully dressed. Meanwhile, I’m standing next to the bins of sweaty shorts and towels, and I start to feel lightheaded. Then the hot dog asks to be released. I need to leave.

Ed follows shortly thereafter and we head home. He asks me if I’ve had a good time. I reply that every experience makes a good story.

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