Double 0 negative
Yes, that’s a Goonies reference.
While on the way to work yesterday morning, Miranda and I found ourselves suddenly caught up in an exciting game of cat and mouse.
If there’s one thing I was born to do, it’s being a spy. I have been graced with a mischievious center covered by an innocent candy shell, and attentive eagle eyes. Things rarely get past me. However, with my calm, cool exterior, no one would ever be the wiser. That was, until this morning.
That said, here’s the action and conversation that followed a sighting of the vanity plates, HRTYBOYS, on LSD yesterday morning.
Me: Look! That blue Subaru wagon has HRTYBOYS license plates! I wonder if it’s one of the actual Hearty Boys driving it!
Miranda: Yeah!
Me: It seems like an appropriately gay car. Let’s try to see!
(At this point, the Subaru, which was going *ahem* at an extremely healthy speed, was almost an exit ahead of us. Enter Mission Impossible theme song…)
Me: Man, whoever is driving that car is flying!
Miranda: Yes!
Me: I’m going to catch up with it! Out of my way silver mini van!
Miranda: …
Me: God, wtf! Why so slow mini van!? DRIVE! I’m mid-chase!
Miranda: … (grips door handle for dear life)
Me: Finally! Silver mini van is moving over. That’s right. Target in sight. Approaching target.
Miranda: … (growing pale)
Finally, we caught up and were parallel with the blue Subaru! To our surprise and satisfaction, it WAS one of the Hearty Boys, the cute funny one, Steve McDonagh. Having rooted for our hometown “fambly” in the Next Food Network Star competition, I am a big fan, and was tickled pink to have this random sighting.
Me: (Peering over into the blue Subaru, clapping with glee) Look! It is him! We did it! God, I’ve always thought I’d make a great spy, and this proves it! No one ever suspects me. Yes, I would make a great spy.
Miranda: Yes, except you might not want to clap and scream when you meet your targets.
Me: Hmm. Yes. Maybe you’ve got a point there.
Holy shitake, that was good
Well, the day has come that I must admit my little dark secret.
No, it’s not related to American Idol. I am proud of this shameful-ish habit. In fact, Elliot Yamin’s (of last year’s American Idol fame) new single is playing in the background as I write this. Tis good. I highly recommend him and his new, handsome smile immensely.
My secret is not really a secret. Because anyone that knows me and/or Miranda knows that my girl has a way with the food. Meaning, she can cook. She just has the sensibility and intuition that transforms her dishes into irresistible yum.
Tonight, I was graced with her wild mushroom risotto. DEAR GOD it was delicious. I am kind of freaked out. Her skillz are sort of unstoppable. And I appreciate every last morsel of them. Come on over and you won’t be disappointed.
Thanks, M.
xo
Update from my minion
Here’s the latest news on Walking Dude, as reported by my minion. There’s nothing overly new and exciting, other than the fact that I am really digging having a minion. I should have recruited one ages ago! So, here’s the email I received yesterday afternoon, subject line: Dude news.
It’s a nice weather out today. I was awaken by a telephone call from my company in Tokyo and I really was in a bad mood this morning. I needed some fresh air so I went outside the building.
I had another interview with two cab drivers today. The Dude is known as a tall Italian guy and asks them $25.00 for a wrist watch. Just keep negotiating to bring the price down to $5.00.
One driver says it’s a stolen watch, the other says it’s not. “Wait for 15 minutes here and you’ll see him coming this way”, a driver says.
The driver must have thought that M. wanted to buy a watch from him.
Now back to work…
M.
Wow! My minion even talks about himself in third person, which to me is a very minion thing to do. Plus, he’s seemingly brave, shameless, and willing to do anything. At this rate, he really is going to score the first ever interview with the Walking Dude. Bwah hahahaha ha!
Sad blueberries
A poem…
Blueberries splattered in the Dominick’s parking lot
Four dollars for them all
Tucked inside my pancakes, they are not
From my grocery cart, they did fall
I failed to double-bag
I stuffed those groceries in
my carton of blueberries
were wedged beside Wheat Thins
Why couldn’t it be apples, or an ear of corn
And not those sad little blueberries, now in the Dominick’s parking lot on Clybourn
I second that emotion
Where to begin with this evening’s American Idol? All I can say is, emotions ran high. And as always, it did not fail to please. Most rewarding: the secret behind Sanjaya’s unfathomable and infuriating success reared its ugly head, revealing itself in the form of an over-excited, pre-pubescent, delirious crushed-out girl. Yes, Vote for the Worst, you’re really screwing with the voting this season, BUT your power is NOTHING compared to the lightening fast digital reflexes of emotionally charged 12-year old girls like this one, who can’t help but do the “ugly cry” on national television over a bad, lady haired singer. There are millions of them, and their ability to obsess and succumb to a world of irrational fantasy is great. I should know, I was one of them. But here’s pretty much how the show and emotions went down, in case you missed it.
Sanjaya sings.
Feeling hurt. Discomfort. Shame.
Overwhelming excitement. Self-loathing.
Fear. Confusion. Pity.
Regret being born. Disbelief. Despair.
Sympathy. Compassion. Guilt.
Delirious Pre-Teen turned out to be an equal opportunity cryer, so her emotional rollercoaster didn’t end with Sanjaya. She got back on the crying train during Melinda’s performance, too.
Confident. Impatient to dominate world.
Jealous. Unworthy. Scared for future.
As you can see, emotions were all over the map tonight, including after the show when someone’s vote for Melinda finally went through.
Victorious. Elated. Proud to be a fan of the Muppet.
And me?
Tired.
Exhausted.
Embarrassed I am so into American Idol.
Hiding.
Now.
