Eat Them Up... Yum!

Do this. Do this now.

For years, I have been evangelizing the Fish Taco . The reaction, historically, has been similar to me telling people I honeymooned in Savannah, GA -- if you've never experienced it, you can't understand why it would possibly be a good idea. Fish TACOS?!? FISH tacos?!?

Trust me: INCREDIBLY good idea. Outside of Baja California and San Diego, the proper fish taco is a rarity. "Proper" may be an odd word choice for what started out as street food, but there are many "improper" fish tacos between here and there. I had a fish taco in Washington State that was... terrifying. Terrifying to the point I still don't understand why you would offer it on the menu. It was so bad a fish taco as to not be worth being called a fish taco... and it was a crappy version of whatever it was actually trying to be. Grrr!

Real fish tacos are light and fresh, use shredded green cabbage instead of lettuce, and are best with cilantro, the white sauce (mystery) they make for such things, and a little salsa verde. Oh, and a quick squeeze of lime. Email me, and we'll track down some of the local renditions, and I can weigh in on their authenticity.

I'm Bruised But Not Broken

Went to an acupuncturist for the first time today -- fun! A little scary -- laughingly, though, I am more scared in these situations because I think I should be than because I actually am. Rationally I know that acupuncture is an ancient science, and dates back to the stone age, so I don't sweat it -- emotionally, I know that a goodly number of people (friends and family included) would be terrified by this and would never dream of having this done, so I get scared on their behalf. Osmotic fear? Borrowing trouble? Peer pressure? You decide.

It was relatively painless (proverbially and practically). First she asked me a variety of questions, not only about my reasons for seeking treatment (back/shoulder/neck pain and headaches) but about my general health (quality of sleep, breathing, and yes... bowel movements). We then moved on to the actual process. While I did have to unbutton my shorts and my tshirt was pulled up to my chest, I lay otherwise fully clothed, face-up on a massage table. After cleansing the target areas, she inserted a total of about 11-13 single-use needles all over my body. I had about 3 in each foot (top of foot), one in my lower abdomen, two just beneath my bra-line, one in my cleavage, one on either side of the base of my skull (behind the ears), and one or two in each wrist.

The needles are so fine (not hollow), many of them I did not even feel go in. Some I did, and only one hurt going in. Once they were all in, though, I really could not feel them -- I could feel something, mind you, and there's something odd psychologically about knowing you should not move because NEEDLES are in you, but otherwise it was a cake walk. I was left alone for a total of 15 minutes -- of the music options given me, I selected a massage tape (innocuous new-agey instrumental stuff), and did Lympatic Breathing* while I lay there. It was very relaxing overall, and I did get some almost instant headache relief.

Excitingly, my maladies also warranted some Cuppping. Not of my balls, which I sweated off** at work last night, but rather the Traditional Chinese Medicinal practice of Fire Cupping. I think a lot of the WES (White English-Speaking) world had not ever heard of cupping until Gywneth showed up about three years ago with a backful of hickeys -- I know I am guilty as charged. But it's a skosh older than that -- maybe not stone age, but I think 2500 years of history gives it a little creedence.

To the left, you can see four of the locations of the cups. At the top-right of that image is the bottom of the 6th spot (more clearly seen in the image on below).

Since I am an amazingly easy bruiser, I felt fairly confident that I'd be marked up at least this badly, if not worse. I kind of think I got off easy. :)

So, next Saturday I go back. More needles, maybe even in my face this time, and a conversation about herbal treatments. Right now, being me, I am so gung-ho on this -- any time I find something that works for me, I want that career. Pilates, chiropractic, massage therapy -- all of them made me feel awesome, so I began immediately fantasizing about a career in those fields. Now of course I am researching acupuncture after one visit -- sound at all like a girl in search of some meaning and direction? Yeah, I thought not. :)

* Okay, at the risk of sounding like a new-age nutcake, Lymphatic Breathing is done (as per Tony Robbins) by inhaling for one count of ____ seconds, holding your breath for four counts of _____, and exhaling for two counts of _____. Fill in the blank with whatever number you feel comfortable maintaining for ten reps, thrice daily. It helps cleanse the toxins out of your body. Or some shit like that.

** Yesterday was hot as hell at work, bringing to mind the charming colloquialism "Sweating my balls off." As I explained to my husband, since I do not have balls, it must be true -- I must have sweated them off. My husband... well, let's say he did not like that concept, and asked me to stop talking about my balls, non-existent or otherwise. I tell this story in part because it tickled me, and in part to help mitigate some of the new-ageyness of this post. You're welcome.

And You Can Be My Sheik

Gus, being attended to by his harem.

Or, in a less Oedipal caption: My mother, my husband, Me and my aunt Maria.

Hilarious. More wedding pix to come!

Making Friends With the Ketchup and Salt

So, a few quick links for the foodies...

Grub Hub is a quick (and best of all FREE) way to order online and centrally from a bunch of local restaurants. You can also sort by cuisine, who's delivering now, etc.

Ghetto Gourmet is a traveling dinner party and underground dining experience. Sign up for their mailing list -- when they come to your town, you order a ticket online (they show you the menu up front). They'll email you a few days before with the exact location, and you show up with a floor cushion and a bottle of whatever. Am doing this on the 4th, so will report in after.

Yelp is also a neat place to get reviews of local places -- it hasn't yet become too commercial, with corporate posts and whatnot.


Enjoy!

Wasting Our Time on Cheap Talk and Wine

I must highly endorse this... so much fun!

Gus and I were lucky enough to do the March one -- a nice treat/date night out in the middle of all the wedding craziness. It's a total steal at $35 per person -- a five course meal, with wine pairings for each, and they are not stingy about refilling your glass.

Let me know if you want to go!!!

Slow and Low, That Is the Tempo

Did I mention I was a suck-ass blogger? Yeah... no posts since January?!? Okay, so fine, I got all married and shit -- like THAT'S a good excuse? :)

And Baby It's Just Like You To Say Anything Else

"Anything else? ...Anything else? ...Anything else?"

Maybe it's just a city phenomenon, but why do delivery order-takers these days only say "Anything else?" -- more accurately, why do they say it after the first item!?!?? WTF! Really?!? Do you really think all I'm ordering is that edamame? Perhaps if you quit cutting me off to say "Anything else?" you would HEAR me order the next item, Scooter. You're so far behind, you think you're first.

One, Two, Three, Four, Five...

Yesterday, I was compelled to create a series of five self portraits:

This is "One" (below) -- in the elevator to the lobby. Although I'm almost unrecognizable in brushed stainless, there's a fun Shroud-Of-Streeterville vibe about it, IMHO.

To the right, we have "Two" -- slightly more detail, plus sinister hand, wherein my fingers appear to be genetically mutated or something. Again, fun.

"Three" on the left looks to me like the type of crap you see on shows about people with haunted houses. The spectral Me is lurking in the parking garage, and my spirit cannot be set free until I locate my ticket (lost ticket pays the maximum fee).

For "Four" I'm reflected in my snow-salt-stained car window. Look closely and you can see the crap. No, the crap is not the yeti in the puffy coat... that would be me. This is one of those perspective shots I love: Me, The Car Window, and Inside the Car.

"Five" -- all smiles. Me, Reflection of Me, Mirror, Inside Car, Outside of Car. Mwaaah!

Home Along The Lanes of the Skyway

Um, so when I said I finally have a view at work, after all those years in window-less offices?

Yeah. So this is the lower right quadrant of my view, on an overcast day.

Smell ME, MFers.

With Your Arms Around Your Girl You'd Try to Sing Along

A week ago Saturday, I went to see the Buffy Sing-Along. Me and about 700 of my closest friends. It was cold as tits that night, and apparently Buffy geeks love to drive, because there was no parking for blocks around the Music Box. After hauling my ass over there, snagging the will-call tix, and locating my peeps in line, we waited.

Managing to score some pretty good seats in the rear house left, we then 'enjoyed' an hour of Pre-Show. Bleaagh. It was poorly executed and understaffed, so despite the best intentions of the creator/emcee, we were all more than a little annoyed and anxious for the episode to start. Once it did? Magical. People were working their best RHPS moves on it, and it was amusing to hear what comebacks people came up with. My one big score, comeback-wise, was in the scene [SPOILER ALERT] where Dawn lets it drop to the flower-charmed Tara that Willow and T had been fighting (duh). After Tara leaves and just before Dawn sings her little pre-abduction "Lament," Dawn walks over to her jewelry box and pulls out the amulet she stole, the one that made Sweet come to Sunnydale. Knowing this was about to go down, I waited til Dawn turned to go to the jewelry box and shouted "Go look at the shit you stole!" -- much to the delight of those in earshot. If this thing does indeed become another RHPS, and that becomes an official comeback, know that it was me, ME! Mwahahaha!

The best part of the show (and one of my favorite moments, musically), was "Standing" -- Giles' solo (with slo-mo Buffy). They had everyone pull out there lighters (or, like the kids do nowadays at the rock shows, their cell phones), and sway them back and forth like they were at a Journey concert. [NOTE: Yes, I am old, and for some reason, waving your lighter makes me think of Journey. Suck it.] I wish this image properly conveyed how damn cool it looked, but it was pretty bad ass.

Other fun moments: Public acknowlegement of the "I'm not wearing underwear" line when Marni Noxon gets her ticket, the linguistics lesson wherein we learn that Spike and Angel have the same first name, and the plug for the Slay-A-Thon annual watch-fest that benefits the Make-A-Wish foundation. Guess I know where I will be on August 4th! :)

You Spin Me Right Round

When did I miss the revolution in lawn decorations? A flamingo? Sure. A sunflower that spins like a pinwheel? All right. A big inflatable snowman? Okaaaaaaaay, fine, whatevs. But this? It's like a miniature version of that inflatable house that the kids get in and jump around on and sweat like hell, only this one's filled with more inflatable shit (in this case, inflatable reindeer) on a turntable. That's right -- this was actually an action shot. There's some bizarre inflatable merry-go-round bullshit going on in there. Heaven help us.

You're The Inspiration

I responded today to one of those ubiquitous "iPod Music Survey" things floating around -- little did I know I was going to inspire brilliance! Christopher, a MySpacer I went to HS with, read my bulletin and was inspired to write the short story below. I in turn wrote one of my own, which appears below Chris'.

* * * * *


The goal was to take the 21 songs in order on my IPod shuffle setting and write a short story using as few words as possible that weren't part of one of the titles.This is a really a practice in creativity that my daily life doesn't always allow, so I thought I would take the advantage of an idea and an inspiration to find more creativity in my daily life. I hope you enjoy and if you feel inspired to write your own story please do.Thanks Kathe for the inspiration.

I was standing outside the BRICK and BEAUTIFUL front of my OLD LOVERS HOUSE. In the window I saw her painting of the BUFFALO SOLDIER, SITTING IN LIMBO. I only wished she would TALK TO ME, but I was told she was on a CHINESE VACATION. I headed down to THE NEW TIMER for a drink and I met ANNA MAY. She offered me REFUGE and I thought she was the one to SAVE THE DAY. She was the one who told me ANDY, YOU'RE A STAR, and I knew this was not the end of my story.In case you were wondering I'VE FOUND A NEW BABY, her name is MARTHA. We met in the park and talked for hours and I knew, she is SOMEBODY I could really love. I walked her home and she invited me in BUT NOT TONIGHT because we both knew this was SPECIAL. So, HERE IT GOES AGAIN. I have found in her my REDEMPTION SONG. Today I stand outside her house, holding 99 RED BALLOONS with a note saying I had long WISHED FOR YOU.

(So, it's a little corny but hey the IPod wrote it. ~Christopher)


* * * * *

My story... still thinking of a title for it...

I had a mean case of TRIPLE STAGE DARKNESS bearing down on my skull. I needed to get out of this WICKED LITTLE TOWN, and fast.

She had skipped three months ago with Jimmy "The KARPET KING" Webster. Gave me THE ANSWERING MACHINE BIT, let me come home to empty hangers and a collection of dust bunnies where our dreams used to be. Hell, even they knew she was leaving before I did -- they hear her record my "Dear John" message. In the beginning, she used to MAKE ME SMILE so much she nicknamed me MONA LISA. She told me I was her forever, then she left so fast it was like she'd been shot out of a MACHINE GUN. And now I'd finally tracked her.

"A letter arrived for you SINCE YOU'VE BEEN GONE." The motel clerk handed me a manila envelope full of pictures. Pictures that would make your mother blush. Pictures featuring MR WEBSTER and my wife. This whole thing was beginning to COME TOGETHER, but I needed to be road and fast if I was going to make it stick. I mean I LOVE CONDOMS, but you can't make babies wearing them, and I wasn't going to make her pay til I shrugged off this joke of a town. It's like my mama used to say, "YOU CAN'T ALWAYS GET WHAT YOU WANT, but you can HURT those who hurt you first." So I was going to hurt her. I was going to hurt MY GIRL like she'd hurt me.

"HERE COMES THE RAIN AGAIN" I growled, as the drops began to spatter my rag top. I pulled THE PARKING TICKET from my windshield, and peeled away toward destiny.

Ten hours and two packs of Camels later, I pulled up outside the house. I could see her moving around inside. She was going to make an EXQUISITE CORPSE, and the best thing was that Webster was going to fry for it. While she was on that AIRLINE TO HEAVEN, the cops were going to find the life insurance policy he'd taken out. They were also going to find the murder weapon. I figured I'd plant it in his desk, piece of cake.

I focused on her silhouette there in the window. Shooting her was going to be the easy part. I'd been a SOLDIER BOY, after all -- dropped out in GRADE 9, and eventually enlisted. I'd been trained to shoot out a crow's eye from a hundred yards, and she was going to make a much cleaner target.

After three long months of absence, I finally felt the smile start to creep back across my lips. I was about to get my revenge... WITH A LITTLE HELP FROM MY FRIENDS Smith and Wesson.

This is exactly the kind of story my Noir-y car pix would fit -- just maybe they inspired the tone of this piece.

I Should Have Known, Should Have Known

How long did I say it would take to stop blogging daily? D'oh!

I do have an excuse, though -- I was busy driving all over town taking pix. Here's more Would-Be Film Stills:

I love both of these, but for different reasons. The one above is too centered for my tastes, but you can't see how fast I am going, and it has a blur that suggests motion, like I am speeding away from something nefarious. The one on the right is delightfully off-center and crisper, but you can see my MPH. It still has a fun anticipatory quality to it though.

Contrast those with some pix I took today:

I like this one (R) a lot. In my own little Isherwood fantasies, I would wish to be able to capture images from my POV, so that you had the multi-layered realities of Me, Inside the Car, The Windshield, and Outside The Car. The one below I call "Seuratt" (the extra T is for Traffic), because it looks so pointillist to me. Or impressionistic. Hmmm. Maybe I should retitle it. Or maybe I should calm down and quit being so freakin pretentious about my new hobby. Did I mention this is all courtesy of my new Pearl? Am loving it for the multifunctionality and portability alone. For anyone vetting the Pearl, this should also give you a half-assed idea of the picture quality you'll get. Not amazing intrinsically, but for what it is and what it cost, pretty Fing awesome, IMHO. Of course some Photographer (with a capital P, signifying that they actually know what they're doing) will probably laugh themselves silly when they stumble upon this blog. Ah well. I've been having a blast, and I love these pix.

Now this one below, taken during the same drive, is bizarre to me. Not sure what I have here, exactly...

I do love it, but it looks like something out of Bladerunner Meets BackDraft to me. Yet there's a vaguely sinister shadow/shape in the upper left quadrant. Is it sasquatch? Satan? Oliver Stone? Who's to say.

Hit Me With Those Lazer Beams

So I already mentioned Project 365 here -- a cool concept, but not one that I think I am prepared to follow through on. Aside from things like honeymoons and whatnot this year, I just know there are days I'll not turn on the puter (rhymes with "cooter" not "butter") and miss perfection. Until that time, here's the 2nd. Wanted to take a pic of my eye, but instead of it coming out sexy or whatevs, it came out looking a lits creepy, IMHO. That was almost reason enough for a discard ("Ooh, 2nd day of the year and she's taking creepy self-portraits"), til I realized how much it looks like a still from a Brian DePalma movie. And I love me some Brian DePalma.

How the Brave New World Arrives

Ringing in the new year for me involved geekdom (see right), a bottle of corked champagne, and... um... let's just say the Dropping of the Ball. Good times. Not the worst NYE on record, not by a long shot, but a pretty mellow one. Kind of how I like it though -- the roads of this town often look like the Zombie Apocalpse at about 2am on NYD. Staggering half-wits wandering out into the streets. Now mind you, we're talking 'Night of the Living Dead' zombies and not '28 Days Later' zombies.