Movies of Myself

Since You Already Know It

A picture, a poem and a song for summer:

Silence
by: Hayden Carruth

Sometimes we don't say anything. Sometimes
       we sit on the deck and stare at the masses of
goldenrod where the garden used to be
       and watch the color change from day to day,
the high yellow turning to mustard and at last
       to tarnish. Starlings flitter in the branches
of the dead hornbeam by the fence. And are these
       therefore the procedures of defeat? Why am I
saying all this to you anyway since you already
       know it? But of course we always tell
each other what we already know. What else?
       It's the way love is in a late stage of the world.

Motorcycle Drive By - Third Eye Blind

On Salty Snacks and Volley Tennis

Someone brought these little bagged snacks to the office last week. Prince noodles oodles.

They are basically a bag of ramen with the seasoning packet mixed in, crushed all to bits. In the fourth grade, we used to make this ourselves and eat it every day for a snack at recess. It only took about thirty seconds to break up the noodle cake and it was salty, crisp and addicting stuff. It's no wonder we were all so cranky and crazy all the time.

Anyways, we used to especially like eating our ghetto noodles oodles when we played volley tennis. Yep, there was no actual volleyball net at the school, so we just played lazy-ass vertically-challenged v-ball at the tennis court. It was quite the popular recess game for a few weeks, after we'd tired of chinese jump rope and before we discovered the thrills of handball. My friends and I even played on an intramural volley tennis team for a short while. The league was quite poorly organized, so we kept forgetting to show up to games, but at least the practices were fun.

Who knew Prince noodles oodles would bring up so many childhood memories. Perhaps I'm having an msg trip.

Now She Can't See

Grrr. Rrrr. Rawwwr. I feel like I'm not seeing anything straight lately. It's like I have the wrong goggles on, maybe the whale-watching goggles or the ski patrol ones, but not the regular goggle goggles. Wait - what. Goggles???

Love Letter to Los Angeles, Part I

If I say the word "home", what do you think of?

Even though I haven't lived there for four years, I think of Los Angeles.

I can't help it. When I'm deplaning from the rear staircases at Burbank airport, when my car rolls past the Ventura border and the sky becomes the first light grey of a smog-tinged concrete gradient, I think it every time.

I'm home.

This is not to say that I didn't hate L.A. viciously the last couple of years that I lived there. Everything seemed so fake and insincere. You've never seen mean, arrogant greed like it in your life. You've never seen such cruel stupidity. If one more person looks me up and down today to see what brand names I'm wearing, I decided, I am getting the hell out of dodge. That day four people gave me the fashion once-over, didn't even try to hide it.

So you see, there is no place like it. Because on the other side of the coin you've never seen so many astonishingly beautiful people who all just want to live their good lives. You've never seen so many extraordinary hopes and dreams pressed so closely together, floating from the minds of people who absolutely believe that life can and should be gorgeous. Despite the rotten shallows, there is no place so full of light, no place that compares.

It's funny, because it took leaving Los Angeles to make me see the city for what it really is. I had to miss L.A. to learn to see the real stars amongst all the streetlights. A single moment two years ago made me realize what Los Angeles means, to me.

I was driving in my mom's car from Pasadena out to meet my ex in Culver City for some Cuban chicken at Versailles. At that moment I was curving the big round from the delightful crazy twists of the 110, past the Westin Bonaventure, past those enormous weird paintings of the Philharmonic musicians with their instruments, past the Staples Center and the green monster of the Convention Center.

I merged onto the 10 West and pulled up level between two cars. On my right was a drop dead dazzling bleached blonde woman in a huge black Mercedes SUV, talking animatedly on her cell phone with a diamond on her hand that was worth enough money to feed a normal family for about 20 months. On my left was a beige-colored classic American car, a slightly shabby low rider in every sense of the word. Two handsome young Latino men in the front seat sang blithely along to the Mariachi music blaring out of its windows as we rolled past the exit for Inglewood. The juxtaposition was perfect.

Right then it's like I reached out and put my finger on the pulse of Los Angeles. And right then I knew that I would never ever understand a city the way that I understood L.A. Even if its pulse was weak and thready at times and I had to push up its Gucci sleeve and poke around under a stack of bangle bracelets from Kitson, I would always be able to find it. I would always be just a moment away from feeling its glossy and hopeful heart beat in unison with mine.

Here Should Be My Home - No Age

We Went to the Zoo

Last weekend we went to the zoo for Mother's Day. The zoo is always a big mix of fun and heartbreak. We used to have annual passes and went all the time, but we hadn't visited in about 6 or 7 years at least. It was hot, the sun burned like a bastard and we had cherry Icees. Mom had more energy than Audrey + me X 900. Had a blast, took lots of photos:

Oh hi, prairie dogs. You guys are greedy and belligerent. And you are also the funniest animal at the zoo, by far.

This family was very cool and stately.

These two gibbons were so sweet. They were utterly inseparable and stuck this close to each other the whole time we watched them; getting food together, swinging around side by side, peeing together. Yep. But seriously, you see what I mean by heartbreaking, no?

Meerkats are the bomb. G's up.

And take lots of pictures.

I'm going down to L.A. this weekend. I'm excited. How excited? I could probably do the 100 meter dash in World Class Track Meet in about 10 seconds, maybe. Things I have planned so far:

• spa day with Kerry
• a trip to the zoo, where I hope to make at least one of those weird-smelling plastic animals from those Mold-A-Rama machines
• cooking Mother's Day brunch with my sister, who has never cooked anything that involved a stovetop or an oven, seriously, not ever
• maybe take our dad to see Earth the movie
• bountiful Chinese food dinner with Grandma
• try to persuade someone to track down the Kogi taco truck with me
• visit some used bookstores
• hang out with the world's best dog
• go see a drive-thru donut

Word.

I Was A Kaleidoscope

Things that made me smile this week:

1. 
   Imagine seeing this set to her hysterical laughter and the proclamation that, "Hahaha, so many yous! You have a hundred mouths! You have millions of glasses on!"


2. Discussing Gywneth Paltrow's "frenemy" with Kerry. I think this is mainly because I love the word "frenemy".


3. Padding Ghost - Dan Deacon
    
   Dan Deacon's latest album, Broomst, is kicking my ass with its awesomeness. I love how the end of this track veers off into almost a kind of pirate chantey.


4. Bacon, gin and butter chicken. Not all together (thought that might be awesome, too.)


5. S: All right, So...I don't want you to shat your pants...
   
   BUT WE HAVE FLIPPING TERRACE BOX SEATS FOR DEATH CAB.
   
   I hope you're excited. Because I am.
   
   b: OH. MY. GOD.
   
   I am completely swooping around the room in crazy bat happiness. This is INSANE!! Maybe we can even bring a picnic!
   
   S: Um, yes. Can you say, "Bucket of KFC?"

Each syllable of mine makes spring arrive.

Spring is my favorite season. I love it so much, in fact, that I am already growing fretful over its end, even though summer is over two months away.

There is just so much to love about springtime. The blend of soft, sunny days and soft, rainy days. Being able to turn first to the dresses and skirts section of my closet when I get ready in the morning. Easter candy. Taking time to review all the things you'd promised yourself at the New Year and renewing or changing your plans in response. More flowers everywhere than anyone knows what to do with (and still it isn't enough.) Warmth. Whimsy. Hope.

But this year what makes me appreciate the spring more than ever are the teeny turtles, Nina and Miles. They have very distinct personalities, these guys. We spent a very awkward first winter together. Miles, the smaller of the two, hibernated for four months underneath a bridge. Every week I would drag him out to make sure he was still alive and, trust me, this did not endear yours truly to him at all. It's just that I hadn't seen him eat ever, not even once, in the time I'd owned them. Nina was a basket case throughout the cold months, freaking out constantly. Every little noise or movement sent her flailing about in a corner like something possessed. Even after months had passed, each time I walked by the tank she would duck anxiously into her shell.

The spring has wrought a great change upon them. They're both awake and playing all through the day and most of the evening. They're hungry, greedy little things. Miles, who is smart as a whip, has learned to swim towards the sight and sound of my finger tapping against the side of the tank. He'll follow it from side to side, wherever I call him. Nina is much less paranoid and seems to take especial joy in flattening Mile's head with her front legs. They are so much fun right now.

Turtle Island - Beach House

Everything fades from sight because that's alright with me.

I love days like this. Texting my sister all morning who is on vacation in Vancouver while I eat maple banana oatmeal. Reading Wendell Berry poems about birds and lawnmowers. Going to lunch in my favorite dress, drinking watermelon beer and walking by South Park on a day that feels like summer. Singing in the car, singing like crazy. Vanilla bean ice cream and the Discovery Channel, talking history and spirituality while the cookies that were supposed to go with the ice cream bake (but who can wait?). Then home to read things that made me burst out laughing and to finish something simple and pretty, something that I actually need. Washing the ink off my hands, brushing my hair. And now, with the cool night air breezing in the open windows, about to lie down on my bed that smells like meadow flowers and clover and listen to Guided By Voices. I love days like this.

I Am A Scientist - Guided By Voices

On design, baby deer and eating glue.

Okay, a few things:

1. I bought the cutest scrapbook paper ever yesterday. It has squirrels. And hedgehogs. And baby deer. I just want to hug it forever.
2. I spent twenty minutes tonight scraping a shit ton of Super Glue gel out of my mouth. Guys, don't ever accidentally squirt fucking Super Glue in your mouth, mmmkay?
3. Now would be a great time for a beer, if only I had beer.
4. I have been super into Harry Potter lately.
5. Hey, AcipHex. if you are a proper medication, especially one for heartburn, you should maybe NOT be called something that sounds like ass effects.
6. There is this poster, which absolutely kills me with its awesomeness. You know what else kills me? My lazy ass waited a couple of days to order this poster and then it got sold out because do you SEE how awesome it is? I snoozed and losed big time :(

 

More Than Ever

I have been super obsessed with this idaft Daft Punk soundboard thing for the past 24 hours.

It has even distracted me from my previously obsessive dreams of moving to the Arctic and setting up a muskox ranch.

I feel like I can use it to actually become a Daft Punk bot. This is how I envision it going down:

--I will start talking less and less.

--If you know me, you're probably openly scoffing at the possibility of my talking less, but I think I can do it.

--I will start passing out fresh-baked scones and Reese's Peanut Butter Cups - Crunchy. This will definitely distract from newly quiet me.

--I will start expressing myself through the Daft Punk soundboard, progressively increasing its usage until it is my exclusive means of communication.

--In my head I mostly envision this as having it say "more than ever" a thousand times a day.

--Which is what I will just start doing, at work, at home, etc. Daft Punkness. Hour. After.

The Lukewarm

Just blow-drying my shoes. Blow-drying my shoes is all.

Things I've Meant To Say To You For A While Now

--Dear McDonald's cashier who was thoroughly berated around Christmastime by that awful couple who told you to "learn how to speak English", even though you absolutely didn't do anything wrong,

    I should have spoken up for you, even if that couple would've bitched me the fuck out.

--Dear Pat Sajak and Vanna White,

    Woah, you guys are looking hell of old. P.s. the fake tans aren't helping.

--Dear Mom,

    Please, please stop mentioning that Audrey and I should consider getting cosmetic eyelid surgery. We really don't give a crap about it, and we never will.

--Dear J,

    You were right. You were always right, and as long as I was listening to you things were good. But then I stopped. And that was not so good. I hope it won't take too long to find my way back to right again.

--Dear Coworker,

    I didn't stick up for you. Maybe that wasn't nice, but it was fair.

--Dear Other Coworker,

    When you said the sweet thing to me, I should've said it back.

--Dear Kelly Ripa,

    You don't look good with blond hair. You never did. And you never will.

--Dear D,

    I should've said something, anything, about it to you.

--Dear Me,

    Keep reading as much as you have been lately. It sure feels good, doesn't it?

--Dear Best Friend from Elementary School who asked me if I wanted to jump rope together on the first day of first grade and whom I drifted apart from in junior high and  haven't talked to since 1991,

    I'm sorry I agreed with your mom that day I ran into her at the mall the week before I left for Cal and she said it was such a shame that you dressed all in black and wore old beat-up Cons and were thinking about applying to art school. Wherever you are now, I hope you are SO very happy.

I'm Wide Awake It's Morning

Songs that were in my head when I woke up this week (varying mornings):

• the jingle from the Juicy Fruit gum commercials ("Get your skis shined up, grab a stick of Juicy Fruit..."
• "Gonna Make You Sweat (Everybody Dance Now)" by C+C Music Factory - actually, I wake up with this in my head at least once every couple of weeks
• "A Little Respect" by Erasure
• "Everyday" by Buddy Holly, covered by James Taylor

L.A. Story

Or rather, three L.A. stories:

1. Trying to park our car at the mall. We finally stumble across an open space, but a woman in the adjacent parking space is helping her daughter into the backseat area of their Ford truck. The woman is wearing a tank top, tight jeans and Ugg boots. She and the little girl (approx. age five) are carrying matching mother/daughter leather Playboy handbags. Without turning to look at us, the woman raises her hand straight into the air and waves us impatiently into the spot.
2. Walking towards the Ontario Fatburger. The door of a red pickup parked smack dab in the middle of the lot, and occupied by two dudes in their early twenties, opens and shuts. In the interim something has dropped to the ground. It is a plastic Arrowhead water bottle which is now half full of urine.
3. In front of the Krikorian movie theater in Monrovia where we've gone to see Coraline 3D. A white stretch Hummer pulls up and out pile eight or ten girls, all about eleven or twelve years old. They are dressed up and made up, some of them showing a bit too much skin for the chilly weather. And for their age. Later two of the girls are washing their hands in the ladies room when Kerry and I walk in. One of them stares in the mirror and says to her friend, "Oh my GOD." "What, what??" is the answer. "My hair. It looks SO hideous."

Honey and Lemon

One of my Flickr friends made this honey, lemon and ginger drink the other day because she was sick. I, who had jinxed myself by bragging obnoxiously about how I hadn't been ill in forever and was simply basking in the glow of great health, made it this past weekend to address my well-deserved sniffles and aches.

This stuff really works. I'm not saying it cures a cold but it definitely lessens the blow of the symptoms. I'm guessing it all has to do with the fresh ginger, which makes it just delicious, spicy and warm. Don't go back in time and tell eight year old me, but I've come to realize in the past year that ginger is fantastic stuff.

More things I like more the older I get: vinegar, avocados, tofu, cauliflower

Some things I like less the older I get: bananas, raisins, raw onions, carrots

Lazy

Okay, can someone just please declare it National Stay In Your Pajamas and Sit In The Sun Reading To Your Turtles Day?  Thx.

Easy Does It - Bonnie Prince Billy 

Rest Easy

I always wanted to be cremated when I die. The idea of rotting in an overpriced wooden box in an overpriced rectangle of dirt left a strange taste in my mouth. How much better it would be, I thought, to have my ashes scattered in the Pacific Ocean where some of them might eventually drift back to the country where I was born.

After Book Club met at Cypress Lawn Cemetery for a discussion of The Graveyard Book, however, I've really been giving the whole interment thing a second thought. Graveyards are so peaceful, stately and graceful in their own right. It might be quite nice to have a place where people can come pay their respects and, you know, enjoy eating Vietnamese sandwiches beside my Deluxe Platinum Edition HD Surround Sound Gravestone Media Center and Mini Bar (with Aromatherapy option).

There will be a video message about how I always wanted to be a freemason which will end with instructions on how to make your own papercraft masonic lodge. There will most certainly be this video looped over and over again. And I'm thinking there will be karaoke to “All The Young Dudes” and “Bohemian Rhapsody”. Maybe I can start a new trend in party graveyards.

Pet Names

The turtles love the sun!

Miles and Nina love the sun so much and, on days when I'm home during the light hours, I will move their tank around to different windows, so they get as much sun exposure as possible. Before I took them home with me they'd lived in a little dark cramped corner for so long, I wonder if they even remembered sunlight. I wonder too if they think that I am somehow responsible for the sun; if they think that I make that light. Heady, egotistical, turtley thoughts.

Also, they are named after Miles Davis and Nina Simone. I tend to name pets after writers, musicians and actors. The dog now: James Joyce Tran. The previous doggy: Spencer Tracy Tran. I really do love a good pet name. Some of my previous favorites: Kinross' cat named Le Halles, Susan's dog December, Sue's turtles Mulder and Scully and Steph's mouse Magic.

We're still building then burning down love.

Things I Would Love To Do:

• Read all the Little House on The Prairie books again.

• Learn to dance the Rhumba and Paso Doble.

• Watch a hot air balloon race.

• Have a wine and chocolate tasting party.

• Run in the rain.

• Actually sit down, organize my designs, get my shit together and open an etsy shop.

• Buy some 2005 Bordeaux wines.

• Buy this sausage dog scarf.

• And buy this Alondra blouse from Anthropologie, which is basically my dream shirt.

• Whip up some homemade cornbread.

• Learn to play the saw.

• Stop listening to this song on vinyl over and over again:

Where The Streets Have No Name - U2

1000

Sweet golly, you guys. This is my 1,000th post!

When I wrote my first entry on this site four and a half years ago I truly had no idea if I could keep it up. I'd never successfully maintained any journaling project for more than about three consecutive months, so the prospects weren't good.

But 999 mad ravings later, here I am. So, I am most proud of the dedication this hobby has taught me. It took quite a while to get into a good rhythm here, but Movies of Myself has become something meaningful to me and something I truly enjoy as well. It's definitely made me a better writer and it's actually allowed me to see things differently, inspired me to notice and to remember things in my life I never would have before.

So here's to a thousand more.

Movies Of Myself - Rufus Wainwright

The State Of Things

• My life this week is basically one long parade of pumpkins.

• I'll most likely be Little Red Riding Hood for Halloween. I'm thinking of filling my basket with string cheese.

• I think I live over some sort of bizarre magnetic forcefield. All my small electric goods are in meltdown. Glaring at the carpet could clean it up better than my vacuum. My hair curler and straightener? The reasons why I hate my locks with a murderous passion right now. And my iron? An Otter Pop could get creases out more effectively.

• Totally hearting on cauliflower. I like it just lightly steamed with a bit of butter, finely ground white pepper and a sprinkling of fleur de sel.

• I miss my sister.

Think of all the things you did and could have done.

A picture, a poem and a song for fall:

Things to Do in the Belly of the Whale
by Dan Albergotti, The Boatloads

Measure the walls. Count the ribs. Notch the long days.
Look up for blue sky through the spout. Make small fires
with the broken hulls of fishing boats. Practice smoke signals.
Call old friends, and listen for echoes of distant voices.
Organize your calendar. Dream of the beach. Look each way
for the dim glow of light. Work on your reports. Review
each of your life's ten million choices. Endure moments
of self-loathing. Find the evidence of those before you.
Destroy it. Try to be very quiet, and listen for the sound
of gears and moving water. Listen for the sound of your heart.
Be thankful that you are here, swallowed with all hope,
where you can rest and wait. Be nostalgic. Think of all
the things you did and could have done. Remember
treading water in the center of the still night sea, your toes
pointing again and again down, down into the black depths.

Leaving So Soon - Keane

We Laugh Indoors

Yesterday I was putting some eye shadow on and I suddenly thought of when Sophia said the horrific eye makeup we got done for Susan's wedding made us look like "angry whores".

This set me off chuckling so that my hand arced across my face, leaving a purple David Bowie/Aladdin Sane streak from the corner of my eyelid down to my earlobe.

This made me start laughing pretty hard and then I became aprubtly conscious that I was just standing at the sink laughing out loud by myself. This knowledge, coupled with the persistent thought of angry whores, glazed and lovingly coated with the fact that part of my brain was also struggling to remember what Indian alternative medicine was called (I remembered today: ayurveda) boomeranged all through my mind and gave me such an intense case of the giggles that I ended up basically collapsed on the ground, laughing and laughing.

I've never experienced anything like it. Every time I admonished myself to stop, because it was completely absurd for me to be lying on the ground chortling to myself over nothing, I'd actually think about how strange I would look if someone saw me and somehow this only made me giggle even harder, laughed until I was almost crying, then stood up, wiped the purple lightning bolt off my face, looked myself in the eye and then went on my way.

If god moves across the water, then the girl moves in other ways.

For the past few weeks I have not been able to:

• ever tell what day it is. Tuesdays feel like Thursdays which have a lot in common with Fridays which remind me of Saturdays which are way too similar to Mondays. 
• get to sleep earlier than 1:30 a.m.
• sleep in, even though I stay up so late. I'm usually up by 7:30, even on the weekends. A handful of days I slept until 9:00 and felt absolutely giddy with pride.
• kick my morning coffee habit. See above for why. I don't worry about this too much, though. I only have one cup, two max, each day. Of course, sometimes I drink Peet's coffee, which I'm pretty sure equals 6 cups of any other brand. That shit's crazy.
• laugh uproariously at some amusing thing, usually several times a day. I'm lucky to have a lot of hilarious people in my life and I've just been so giggly and silly. I catch myself with the biggest, stupidest smile on my face all the time for no reason. If I saw me walking down the street I'd SO give myself a beatdown. I confuse myself constantly.
• tell my dreams from reality. Example: last night I dreamt that one of my friends got SUPER mad at me for leaving my instant messenger status as "Available" when I'd actually left the house for hours. I returned to my desk and found a protracted tirade about how I'd let her down when she needed me, and that it was incredibly rude of me to pull a stunt like that. Most of my day was spent glumly walking around thinking this had actually gone down in real life. "Beckie, why you gotta act the fool?," I mourned. "How are you gonna make this right?" 

Nite and Fog - Mercury Rev

Photographs of the best time you had, windows smugded by the speed.

I went over to  Judy's house one night last week to catch up with my girls. Little Kristen walked up just as I was leaving and gave me this blue balloon, one of the few survivors from her birthday. "This balloon is kind of like a doggy. You can take it home with you," she said, pressing the frayed red ribbon into my hand.

So  my kind of doggy sat in the passenger seat of my car for two days and ran all over town with me until about thirty seconds after I took this picture. I'd just curved onto the 87 freeway at the Taylor Street Bridge when the blue balloon decided to whip itself out the window. I looked with mingled wonder, dismay and delight in my rearview mirror, as it bounced backwards like a madman then leapt out of sight.

Can You Please Crawl Out Your Window? - The Hold Steady

And I'll sleep tomorrow, and it won't be long.

I'm no good at relaxing.

This is the first day in forever that I haven't been busy as a bee and yet, the idea of just taking a lazy day makes me feel guilty and agitated. I can't stop thinking about all the things I could be doing and now my head hurts a little. Yes, I'm that skilled at sabotaging my own contentment.

I'd love to go somewhere peaceful and pretty, but that would involve driving, not wearing pajamas and, worst of all, actually figuring out a place to go. So screw that. And it feels like a quiet reading day, but the second I open a book I'll pass out, I just know it.

I think I'll make this an officially mandated "Sleep to the Olympics" day. You only get to take afternoon naps with the Olympics playing on television every couple of years, so it's a special experience that you don't want to miss. Trust me on this one.

When You Sleep - My Bloody Valentine

Quiet Please

See that folded piece of paper in the left hand corner of this altar to Mary? With that straggly edge still attached so you know it was ripped straight out of the notebook? Don't you want to know what's written on it?

Well, me too. This altar is at one end of a covered trellis walkway at a Carmelite Monastery that's about 10 minutes from my house. And let me tell you, I was swamped with curiosity. But reading someone's private petitions? "That's just all kinds of wrong," I told myself. Out loud. Very loud. There were only two other visitors and a groundskeeper at the monastery, and it was silent as, well, a church. The groundskeeper shot me a troubled look. I smiled a big weird smile (which probably made me appear even more suspicious) and tried to play it off like I had been praying out loud. You know, keeping it real. Just praying is all. 

I've developed this really bad habit of talking out loud to myself over the past few days. I have no idea why I'm doing it. It's kind of tolerable when I'm just monologueing while I vacuum, But my tendency towards this in public quiet places is getting embarrassing. I was in the poetry section at the library, suddenly struck with the desire to read a book about Tennessee Williams. "Would that be biography or literary criticism?" I wondered aloud. Oh, no. "Stop that right now!" I exclaimed. Aloud again. "Stop talking!" I said to myself. Luckily no one overheard this mad outburst (it's not a very popular section.)

I can only hope this ends as suddenly as it began. I never know when it'll strike and it makes me a little snervous. I wonder what's wrong with me. Oh, Beckie, there's nothing wrong with you. Good grief.

Talk Of The Town - The Pretenders

Enjoy a Little Fog

Kids, don't do this.

Don't skip dinner and then drink an entire bottle of wine which you had been saving for the perfect day (f.y.i., having a lot on your mind and not wanting to deal with it is a poor excuse for the perfect day.)

Don't be sippin' on it really fast so that an hour after you open it you're lying outside in your nightclothes, on the stairs that lead to your front door, watching the night sky and listening to Pinback on your iPod. (Okay, maybe do this part, because it was wonderful.)

Don't do it, because the next morning you might have to slink into an early morning conference call hungover and basically craving both hash browns and death.

You might have to keep your lips all pursed to keep the nausea at bay, drink coffee like it's medicine and then crawl back into bed at noon, laughing at yourself all the while.

Just saying, is all.

Daddy Needs A Drink - Drive-By Truckers

5,450 Miles in Four Days

Soon after Jangers and I started to plan Jen's Pittsburgh bridal shower, Jangers proposed that we hold the party on a Sunday afternoon, thereby enabling us to spend a fun-filled Girls Day in New York the day before. What a splendid idea!

So last Friday night Jangers and I board a JetBlue red-eye to meet up with Jen the next morning in NYC. Without her two sons (both under the age of 4) to take care of, Jangers gets some of her best sleep in months. I'd spent the entire previous week in Los Angeles and had driven the three hundred miles back to Santa Clara on Thursday afternoon, repacked my bags full of party prep stuff and spent a long, tough day at work on Friday. Still, I'm only able to drift off lightly for a couple of hours in total. When we start our Saturday, I am already kinda tired.

But I'm here to enjoy 12 hours in the city with two of the smartest, sweetest, just plain greatest girls on Earth; two of my best friends since high school. And the day is wonderful. We grab some pastries at Balthazar, shop for a few hours in Soho, eat a yumtastic lunch at Café Boulud, look for dresses at Bloomingdale's and enjoy a stunningly good visit to the Bliss Spa in the W Hotel on Lexington. SO heavenly, if you're willing to embrace the surreal experience of having someone rub oil on your stomach while you lie on a massage bed wearing paper underpants and listening to "Sail Away" by David Gray. We emerged from the spa completely rejuvenated and just happy as fricking clams with the kick-ass day.

To find that New York is drenched in sudden torrential thunderstorms. And there our troubles begin:

• A car service books us over to JFK, taking side streets half the time to avoid the traffic crush on the freeways. This dude must know every back alley in Queens.
• We soon find that our 8:30 flight to Pitsburgh is delayed, and then delayed again. And then delayed AGAIN. No flights are leaving the airport. A bigger problem: no flights are able to arrive, either. Our outbound plane and crew haven't arrived because what I imagine to be hundreds of plans are just circling the skies of New York, waiting for clearance to land. 
• 10:15 pm. I buy a pack of Valomilks. You can't get them in California. That shit explodes when you take it over the Rockies. It sometimes busts open in any plane. Of course, it doesn't look like we're getting on a plane any time soon. It's the sweetest candy I've ever eaten. Imagine a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup shell filled with liquefied Peeps.
• It's close to midnight. The JetBlue staff has passed out blankets and pillows to everyone (BAD sign.) Jen gets a couple of them to swear on their mamas that our flight WILL eventually leave tonight.
• Jangers (flipping through US Weekly): Look at Natalie Portman's forehead from the side. It's enormous. She could teach Tyra Banks a thing or two. Jen: Yeah, it's pretty big. Jangers: NO, really look at it. She's like the Last Emperor, or something.
• One in the damn morning. After two gate changes they finally let us board. They disclose that we will probably taxi for about an hour, since we're in a line of planes all waiting to take off. The pilot says he'll let us know when he gets a better estimate of our departure time.
• We watch Usher perform "Love in this Club" on SNL. Then we watch 45 minutes of Clueless. Then the pilot gets on the intercom again and lets us know that, oh, he's just surpassed his legal allotment of hours that he's allowed to fly in a day. They can't won't find a replacement. It is after two in the morning. Our flight is CANCELLED. Fuck.
• A bunch of flights have been shafted, including a huge group going to San Juan. There is a run on the JetBlue customer service counter as we all try to get onto the next flights out. Each and every one of us is crying internal tears of anger and exhaustion. A JetBlue agent threatens to call security to clear an angry mob of Puerto Ricans. We watch closely, hoping that someone will be tasered. Much hullaballoo. We get ourselves seats on an 8 a.m. flight. The agent lets us know that we can "check in again after 4 a.m." Oh my god.
• Jangers and I change into our pajamas. For some reason I've packed an old band t-shirt from the year 2000 and my most hateful p.j. bottoms -- pastel striped drawstring capris. I look like a clown on Spring Break.
• We huddle into little balls of ack in airport chairs. Despair.
• Six a.m. We rouse ourselves to get new boarding passes and drink some Dunkin' Donuts coffee. We've now officially spent more time waiting in the airport than we did traipsing around the actual city.
• Our flight out ends up being an hour delayed. We arrive dirty and disheveled at Jen's place in Pittsburgh, one hour before the bridal shower is set to begin. To quote Jen, quoting Stewie from The Family Guy, "The outrages I have suffered today will not be soon forgotten."

Luckily, we got to the party only 10 minutes late and it went swell. Last night, Jangers and I made our slow way back home connecting through Las Vegas and getting back to San Jose at 1:30 in the morning. I had not been able to lie down for over 72 hours. And I'd had a ton of fun. What a weekend.

The Echoing Airports - The One AM Radio

But you don’t like it, you love it.

Things I figured out this past week:

• You should NOT throw a glass thermometer into the sink if you don't want it to shatter. I know, I'm like some sort of physics wizard.
• Maru Ichi has a damn tasty cold noodles special available right now. Hiyashi Chuka Ramen + cold beer = a great night. I'll have to go back before summer's end.
• That show on FOX where people are hooked up to a lie detector? It has to be a sign of the apocalypse.
• You can't renew your library books online if someone else is waiting to check them out. Yipes. Here's hoping library late fees aren't too high.
• Need to add this to the "Next time I'm in L.A." list: Moonpillows
• I want this Orla Kiely bag. Want it SO bad.
• But not as much as I want this wooden box of French steak knives. I saw them at Anthropologie a week ago and every day since I've thought of them numerous times. Yes, I am obsessed with a set of knives.
• My Weezer love has been increasingly on the wane since Pinkerton (which, incidentally is available as a full album download right now on Amazon for $1.99. Don't know how long that deal will last but if you don't own it, please for the love of all that is good, buy it. If you don't like it I will so give you two dollars and a sad, disappointed look.) However, there are a few tracks on their latest s.t.a. which I can definitely get on board with. This epic track in particular makes me very happy:

                    The Greatest Man That Ever Lived - Weezer

Ten, Nine, Eight and I'm Breaking Away

Upon waking this morning I realized that this day could go one of two ways:

1) I would lament the sudden twenty degree temperature spike that has struck the South Bay this weekend and sleep the rest of the day away or 2) I would, in a ridiculous but much-needed frenzy of activity, complete a slew of tasks that have been patiently demanding my attention for the past couple of weeks.

So far, I've chosen door number two.

• Did a bunch of cleaning and hand-washed some more delicate clothes that can't be run through the washer.
• Pre-ordered a neat Achewood book.
• Researched terrarium designs.
• Made a beautiful salad for lunch.
• Danced around the room to Sun Kil Moon and Sigur Ros.
• Lusted after this mustache rack.
• Started to edit the insane number of photos I took in San Francisco yesterday.

However, I've now spent the entire last hour searching fruitlessly for a missing hard drive and for an apparently non-existent Andy Warhol poster I wanted to frame. It might be time to head back to bed.

The best music for (kind of) getting work done on a Sunday:

Don't Cry Out - Shiny Toy Guns

Le Disko - Shiny Toy Guns

Asleep in the Back

Sunday naps might be the greatest thing in the world. It's just a gorgeous spring afternoon and I have a few hours at home in between yummy Blue Bottle coffee and a Rock Band/party planning jamfest plus possible concert goodness.

I thought it would be good to sit for a bit, think things through and read some poetry. I ended up nodding off with the soft bands of sun splaying across the bed and the perfect cool/warm spring breeze fluttering in. Everything just felt so light. Everything was light. It was beautiful.

My heart's an autoclave.

I don't know what has been up with me the last few days. Dude, I've just been phoning it in. I think it's a combination of being tired and hormonal, and needing to recharge creatively.

There's so much I want to rave about (Project Runway, insound.com, Hawaiian Punch) and rant about (car repairs, harassment, Hawaiian Punch Sugar Comedown Headache), yet I say nothing. I'm also currently a bit miffed at typepad. Some glitch occurred last week which has kept some of my sidebar lists at a standstill and sent most of the rest spiraling a few weeks back in time. They are looking into matters, but in the meantime: gah.

So I will rant and rave briefly about the Mountain Goats, whose Noisepop show at the Independent I attended last Saturday. Lordy what an appalling night. The Mountain Goats themselves actually weren't bad once they decided to start playing at 11:45 p.m. Blast! By that point we had been jumping, climbing, bouncing, driving and standing for almost six hours straight (Elysa's out of control kids b-day party had started our night off riotously.) With the exception of a much needed hour-long break for cocktails, insanity prevailed. I regret to say we shuffled out of the Independent about halfway through the set, muttering about our exhaustion and our various ailments.

That's the rant. What is the rave? My love for this curiously wondrous song from the Mountain Goats' latest album Heretic Pride:

Marduk T-Shirt Mens Room Incident

I want to be "weightless, formless, blameless, nameless." This is such a good album. Not the devastating and beautiful last goodbye of Get Lonely, but something both brighter and darker at the same time. An album not to be missed.

Now Is The Time

Of all the things I worked on for Thing-a-Day 2008, this is my favorite:

It features a quote from Horace's Odes, "Nunc Est Bibendum", which is translated as "Now is the time for drinking". If you leave it at that I think this would make a really fun and glib print to hang in your bar area, and the phrase makes an excellent toast.

However, the original extended version of the quote reads: "Nunc est bibendum, nunc pede libero pulsanda tellus" or "Now is the time for drinking, now the time to dance footloose upon the earth." It's a compelling thought; something I want to keep at the forefront of my mind. I spoke with another Thing-a-Day participant about living in wise indulgence; an "eat dessert first" philosophy. It inspired me to make this poster and also a matching print:

"Nec mora, nec requies" is the proper response to "Nunce est bibendum" and it's translated as "Neither delay, nor rest".  I think it's damn cool that there's a proper response. The reason why I love these quotes is because of their bracing and sincere carpe diem perspective; drinking, dancing and enjoying everything you can now. Rousing yourself and others to remember to do what you can with what you have in this moment, whether that is carousing, working or resting.

Versions of this quote are all around us. From the Bible: "Eat and drink, for tomorrow we die!" One of my favorite lines from Braveheart: "Every man dies. Not every man really lives." From Virgil's Minor Poems: "Death twitches my ear 'Live,' he says, 'I am coming'". This thought is always there, always making us just a bit restless while we're preoccupied with the little tasks that make up our days. It is up to us to hear it out, and to do so now.
 

The Small Print

Dang, what a kickass weekend.

Friday night I got to wind down for the week while shopping with some of the girls. Found lots of pretty tops with graceful appliqued embroidery; very reminiscent of shirts my mom wore when she was a teenager.

Saturday was, of course, Sophia geek out day. After she told us a few weeks ago that she might be coming for a short visit I barely let myself think about it, lest the gears of my brain should short circuit with excitement. But the day finally arrived and I packed Jangers and Nicky Nacks into the backseat of the Cooper and we met her for lunch at Kappo Nami Nami in Mountain View. Ate some yumalicious bento and trashed on Stanford (Caroline & Skorn, my most sincere aplogoies.) Then had a wonderful time catching up with Sophia about all aspects of lifeiness while traipsing through Santana Row. There's no one else I'd rather wait out an insanely long line at Urban Outfitters with! (Unless it was a Sophia who would want to move to the Bay Area and hang out with me all the time. Come on!)

And, of course, Sunday. Game Day. Go Pats! Ahem. Anyhow, I love chicken wings, beer and obnoxious, cringe-worthy advertising as much as the next girl, but I discovered the Secret of Super Bowl Sunday in 2002, and had to capitalize on it again: dude, this is the day to get things done. If there's an event or hotspot that you don't want to wait in line for or that you can't get reservations or tickets to, this is your day! The Pod and I used to go to Disneyland on Super Bowl Sunday. It was like a ghost town; so awesome. This year Chris and I stuck around long enough to watch most of the first half of the game before catching a Cirque du Soleil show in downtown San Jose. I only bought the tickets this past week, but we had amazing seats. There were contortionists touching their heads with their butts. And the Wheel of Death. You know, the usual magnificent Cirque stuff. We capped the night off with a really nice dinner at Arcadia, which neither of us had been to for over a year.

It was a spirited yet relaxing few days with lots of diverse local fun. All in all, a great weekend.

Come Clean

I have spent the past six days cleaning like MAD. I have been in a frenzy of cleaning, working til about 2 a.m. the past few nights. I cleaned like a fiend. I'm thoroughly exhausted, but it also feels great. It all started with an innocent desire to sort my books. They were all in haphazard stacks and it was impossible to locate anything. That somehow spiraled into throwing out a dresser, a side table, a chair, a dozen cardboard boxes and sixteen bags of trash. I have no clue what was in those bags. Apparently I'd accumulated a shit ton of meaningless junk and papers over the past couple of years. I did get my books all in order, though,

organized by color:

I love this color system and wish I'd had the will to do it sooner. I also wish I had fewer books with plain white spines.

Another happy thing: a memory drawer. All the little trinket and tokens that I can't bear to throw away, gathered together in my nightstand. I feel such a wave of nostalgia and fondness whenever I peek into it.

The Year in Pictures

   

      

 

 

   

It's a strange and amazing thing to look over 12 whole months worth of Flickr and pluck a photo from each month. "That happened this year???", I kept asking myself. I had forgotten so many little things. My enjoyment of photography has grown by leaps and bounds in the past four months or so after I finally figured out and connected with my little pink camera. I think 2008 will be the year I finally invest in a DSLR and see where it takes me. Not that you need a really fancy camera to truly capture the essence of, like, deep-fried Coke. But it can't hurt.

Beyond Good and Evil

We got an issue of Time magazine at work a couple of weeks ago and we can't stop talking about it.

The cover story is about morality and goes over the incredible range of cruelties and kindnesses that humans bestow upon each other. We can make judgments upon these actions because we are capable of empathy and the article makes the argument that, despite the fact that people may stray from what they feel is morally sound, "moral judgment is pretty consistent from person to person." So understanding morals doesn't keep us from being jerkfaces, but there is jerkface awareness.

The article also includes a morality quiz, and this is what has us all in a tizzy. These theoretical questions about what you would do in certain life-threatening situations have long been one of my least favorite aspects of philosophy. They're just agonizingly painful scenarios and I am infinitely grateful that I haven't ever had to face something like them. The first is the worst:

Scenario 1: The Crying Baby

It's war time, and you're hiding in a basement with a group of other people. Enemy soldiers are approaching outside and will be drawn to any sound. If you're found, you'll all be killed immediately. A baby hiding with you starts to cry loudly and cannot be stopped. Smothering it to death is the only way to silence it, saving the lives of everyone in the room. Assume that the parents of the baby are unknown and not present and there will be no penalty for killing the child. Could you be the one who smothered it if no one else would?

All week we were walking around the office asking each other "Would you kill the baby? Seriously, would you??"

Human Behaviour - Bjork

Biznacks

Do you remember when I had that real home cooking restaurant idea? Well, I've added a subscription service to the theoretical sack lunch counter. If you sign up for three lunch boxes a week, one of them will come with a personal handwritten note telling you what a handsome, smart whippersnapper you are. The restaurant has become so popular in my mind that I've even opened up a second imaginary branch across town. It strictly serves fresh pizza and fruit pies, and it's called Homeslice.

Other businesses I want to open up:

• A vending machine uberworld called Prize for Life. I'd set the food up like BAMN! automat but there would also be vending machines that dispensed t-shirts, music, little pieces of art and jewelry and toys, all made by local artists.
• Fit to Be Tied: An s & m lounge. This would only be in business until someone accidentally suffocates, which is what I assume happens in most s & m clubs.
• An Irish pub called O' Tranaran's.

p.s. If you do your grocery shopping at Safeway, check out their wine section this week. With the holidays coming up I know we're all probably buying more and they've got some good deals right now, especially on sparkling wines (I saw a Domaine Carneros La Reve and some Schramsberg bottles for a decent price). They've also got one of my favorite wine finds, the Chateau St. Michelle Dr. Loosen partnership Eroica Riesling, for $20 right now. This is hands down the best American Riesling I've ever had. There were only two bottles left at my neighborhood store, so I might go looking for more.

A Week (almost) in L.A.-- The Highlights:

• Cooked a kickass turkey.
• Kerry's Birthday!
• Pistachio Disguisey
• Dim Sum - three times :P
• Bunny
• Shopping in Old Town with Caroline, Sophia and Steph
• hiking with Momo and the Pod up to Monrovia Canyon Falls
• Running into friends I hadn't seen in a year and a half.
• Giant Robot and GR2 finds: King Cat #68, Dre Day 2006 Sticker Pack, some anarchist day planner and a 2K Wasabi tee.
• Museum of Jurassic Technology - I still love this place. The tearoom is especially nice.
• Finished rereading The Amber Spyglass
• Went over the Tao Te Ching again.
• Got all crazy about frozen treats: 21 Choices (god I miss this place), Pinkberry (so fucking good. Even if we had to eat it all leaned up against a store that sells Lakers Santa hats) & Mashti Malone's (just so-so. I can't stand their perfumey flavors.)

Also see shucks.

I love this. I actually burst out laughing in the frozen foods aisle of Hong Kong Supermarket.

It's hardly even funny, I know. But ever since, the thought of them keeps popping into my head. Soon I found myself muttering "squid nuggets" every time something irritating happened or when I suddenly remembered stuff I had to take care of. I started using it as a substitute for "damn", I guess. I never wanted anyone to actually hear me say it, only it's inevitable because I was saying it all the time.

b: (knocks over a jar of macadamia nuts). Ugh, squid nuggets.

n: What did you just say? Did you say nuggets?

b: Um, um...I. No. I didn't say that.

b: You did. You just mumbled like, squid nuggets or something like that. What the fuck?

b: What are you? Crazy? Why would anyone say that??

I'm wondering...

• how my pumpkin and I both forgot it was trash day on Tuesday. I think it's grown legs, so it should have walked itself to the trashcan. I also think it's grown fangs and expect it to bite my face off in about 36 hours.

• why they discontinued Spaghetti and Meatballs at Trader Joe's. wtf. Trader Joe's, when you do things like this, things that hurt me, I start to wonder how serious you really are about this relationship.

• why I keep knitting the same damn gray woolly scarf over and over and something alway goes wrong and I have to start again and the whole thing looks like a fucking crazy cat hairball because I've done that for 7 months now.

• when they started selling Barcelona bars at Cost Plus. "Is this any good?", asked the cashier. IS A BEAN GREEN?

• why it's so hard to memorize and recite poetry. A few years back I made a concerted effort to store a good chunk of the first part of T.S. Eiiot's "The Wasteland" in my brain, but it's almost all gone now. "April is the cruelest month."....Yeah, that's all I got.

• if I can rig this up to play every time I arrive at work, get back home or step into my car: Fugue #7777 - Katamari Damacy Soundtrack Prepare to drown in a rainbow.

Tell me where you've been, tell me what you saw.

Babies, I'm back. Yesterday I had a killer breakfast, drove six hours, said a sad goodbye to a much-loved co-worker and then boozed til one in the morning. This morning I had to get up at seven. Oh sweet sassy molassey, am I back. And I am a bit disoriented, to say the least.

But what an absolutely marvelous week it has been! Just fun and laughter each day, with more good times to come very soon. It's not nearly cool enough to feel like we're more than a month into Fall, so hell was I surprised when someone told me this morning that we fall back tomorrow. Can you believe that? I for one was not at all aware. But an extra hour sounds great to me right now.

Spring and By Summer Fall - Blonde Redhead

Superconnected

I've got a few different activities and projects going on this week which I'm very excited about. Some of them will take me out of town for a few days, so I won't be checking in here, looking at my email or giving you any more kung fu tips til the weekend. Probably.

But I will be sporadically uploading some pre-written posts, mostly detailing some Bay Area restaurants I've visited recently. I wanted to get these out before Sunday's epic meal, so they won't get lost in the fray.

Hope everyone can find a minute to take a long relaxing breath and that all y'all have a great week!

Lists Week! Day 3 - Just don't get it.

Things I Don't Understand

1) Physics - I was placed in an honors physics class in high school. I can't say that I understood for a single minute anything that went on. It is an absolute miracle that I passed that class.

2) Why I can take an entire suitcase full of scissors and razors through the security checkpoint at the airport, but not a medium-sized Dunkin' Donuts coffee.- Don't make me rush my Dunkin' Donuts, man.

3) Dudes

4) Dr. Pepper - Seriously. It's gross. So is Mr. Pibb. Cause they taste the same. They're both gross.

5) Evites - Okay, this site needs a massive update in the worst way. Making your own invitation design is ridiculously confusing and painful. And wouldn't you rather have say, a lovely handmade invitation? (Yikes. Minty Fresh also needs a massive update in the worst way.)

6) That I said the phrase "hot beef injection" to some of my co-workers and they had no idea what I was talking about. - I am old.

6) Jennifer Aniston

7) Steak Fries -  They're giant soggy slabs. Why would you do that to a potato?

Lost Souls - Doves

Lost in the Plot - The Dears

Continued stories at night.

Much to my everlasting surprise I actually stayed up to watch the lunar eclipse last night. I snuck in a few catnaps between 11 p.m. and 2 a.m. which allowed me to be comfortably watching all the eclipse action at four in the damn morning. The strangeness and the charm of the event stayed with me all day and I wasn't tired in the least.

I don't really know how I could have considered bypassing this for a moment. It all turned out so nicely. The place in the house with the most advantageous lunar view was the window right by my bed. I was able to lie on the cool sheets and witness the full brilliant-white moon turn disquietingly to ash, only to reappear in captivating red-orange fire. I can't quite explain the brain's almost-impression of seeing the sun in the pre-dawn darkness.

I can't quite express the suspended being of lying in a room and focusing completely on the moon falling slowly into Earth's shadow. Everything quiet at 4 a.m. except for the low tones coming from my iPod, including this: If You're Wondering - Eisley

And I thought that I had all that,
that I wanted.
But, boy, was I wrong.
As were you. Now I know.

If the moon shines on you while you're sleeping
it will show you all that I'm feeling.

And if I'm wondering, then you show me.
If you're wondering, I know.

A radial lullaby of a song, perfect for watching a blood moon turning in a summer sky.

L'amour est un oiseau rebelle.

Man, tell me you remember this crazy orange singing "Habanera" from Bizet's Carmen!

It amazes me constantly how strong my memories of Sesame Street are, and how very much this show must have affected my generation. I know this show and my recollections of it still bring me awareness, humor and overall funky goodness. I think I'll watch an episode of the show next Monday; hope it hasn't changed too much.

This opera-singing orange popped into my head as I was tearing into a navel orange this afternoon. I'm trying to eat tons of fruit lately before summer flies off. The last couple of nights I've actually felt cold, even though it's only the middle of August. My mind drifted immediately to rainy nights spent reading under the covers. I can't wait! But in the meantime there's still the opportunity to enjoy the pleasures of this season.

I remember being profoundly disturbed as a child whenever this orange skit came on. Just look at the rubber band mouth, the mop hair and the ginormous eyelashes! And of course the whole sequence when she's trying to hit that note singing "La MoooooOOOOOO!" (which I realized for the first time in my life is supposed to be "L'amour".) Dang, that always made me want to scream and cry.

I also remember watching this one summer day with my grandmother when I was five or six. We just stared at the screen, completely mesmerized by this little bit of genius. And we were eating oranges.

Stick to the B.E.A.T.

This day started alright. A nice relaxing cup of coffee over a good book. I'd stayed up late playing Touch Detective (thanks Lo Sistahs!) so I made the decision to go into work a little late and just spend the morning grooving to this righteously groovy song instead:

D.A.N.C.E. - Justice

But I have been endlessly bashed around the head area with problems since arriving at work. Some people suck. It's as simple as that. Not you guys, of course. You guys rock. But some people--they do not make me dance. This song makes me dance! I hope it keeps you moving through your day, too.

Separate Ways

I was talking to Colleen about cooking the other day, trying to explain that I do not enjoy making food, but that I am decent at it. I can hardly bring myself to make some beans on toast, but am capable of whipping up a Thanksgiving feast for 14.

c: It always takes me forever to eat Thanksgiving dinner because I can only scoop tiny portions onto my plate. See, I don't like when my food mixes together. Do you know know what I mean?
b: (jaw drops and stares in utter disbelief for hours) No food-touching-food! I can't have any of my food touch any of my other food either!!

Neither of us had ever met another person with this phobia before and we gleefully exchanged hints and tips. Lots of separate bowls and plates was deemed the best way to go. I waxed fantastic over cafeteria-style sectioned dishes and trays that you can buy on the cheap at Target. She taught me to make a moat out of foods that I didn't like that much.

It got me thinking though; why exactly do I hate my food to mix together so much? My worst nightmare is those newish bowls they have at KFC where mashed potatoes, corn, tiny chicken bits and three cheeses are all thrown together and  biscuit is smooshed on top. I love all these separate items but the idea of them all in contact with each other at once is enough to send me into cardiac arrest (calorie and fat content of these bowls will also achieve this.) But fast food nightmare aside, plates are often presented in a layered fashion at the more upscale establishments I've been to, as well. And I will not deny the phenomenon of the Perfect Bite, but as soon as I am served when I'm eating out I'll rush to push everything as far from the center of the plate as possible. It seems such a little and such a big thing all at once. How did it get like this?