errands.

blech.

put put put.

my muffler died.
that sounds a little dirtier than intended. perhaps.
anyway, now my car sounds like a "souped up" motorcycle. i wish i was actually driving a motorcycle down 309, then the put put puttering would be cool.
as it is, i'm driving a decade+ old volvo station wagon, so it ain't so cool.
i could close my eyes and pretend, but that might be dangerous.
oh well.

boom chicka.

do you ever find yourself listening to your i-pod while you're walking down the street, and your feet are scraping the pavement perfectly on beat? do you like me, immediately imagine yourself in a movie, camera following yuppie that you are down the street after a hard day of work, off to some adventure?
cool me. real cool.

radio.

for the past 3 or so months, my car radio has been broked. well, not really broked, but locked. and of course, no one new the code to a car radio from a volvo built at least 15 or so years ago. needless to say, i have taken to singing very loudly to myself in the car so as to stave off the lonely.
but finally, a rather jagged toothed but very nice mechanic pulled a few strings and resurrected said radio. no longer do i have to stealthily listen to my i-pod on one earbud. and i can (in theory) call into radio times and complain about stuff without having to remind myself that the show i'm listening too is from three weeks ago. oh radio, i've missed ye.

wonderful.

have you, dear jet-setting reader who reads my blog religiously and plans to give me loads of money purely for amusing them, ever been to a newly opened store? and by newly opened, i mean like a freshly iced birthday cake with only a few finger marks in the icing. today, i went to a new target. i have been watching this target be built in a rather unsavory part of my neighborhood for the past year and have been waiting with baited breath for 'opening july 2009'.
today, they are open. fresh plastic grocery carts with monitors that beep if they are taken past a certain line in the parking lot. every rack of clothing, band-aids, tea, oatmeal, or dora the explorer backpacks is neat, tidy, and full. there are no pieces missing. there were approximately 5 employees to every customer (it was 10 am on a very rainy thursday) and each is more determined to help you find what you are looking for than the next. one guy seemed rather offended that i didn't need help...
also, the freezer lights come on when you walk by them. i could spend a year in a place like this, investigating every nook and cranny, every brand name and generic, every free starbucks sample with a suitably tiny straw. i fear, however, that soon the virgin purity of this place will be sullied and i will again be left with dirty rugs, cranky employees, and freezers that are just cold and not bright. but, till then, i shall enjoy myself.

today.

i went to a food photo shoot today. half of the food is fake. the ice cream? it's crisco and flour. the "just washed look" on the raspberries? it's oil. mmmmm. it is also very funny when people think you went to a shaker high school and subsequently say "i thought they all died out. no sex, right?"

comparisons.

scenario: you cross the street, somewhat oblivious as your nose is 3 inches deep in a hot fudge sundae, but not at the crosswalk, because it is a sunday and there are all of three cars wandering around
in philly: you cross successfully, maybe you step in some pee, perhaps you get honked at, but generally all is well
in kentucky/ohio: you begin to cross, only to discover a broken down junk car is barreling at you, you walk faster, still digging hot fudge out from the crevices in your soggy ice cream cup. when you hit pavement, the car flies by and you are hollered at; "they make crosswalks for a reason you know!" you respond "i'm from philadelphia"

i know, i probably sound like a dairy-enthused annoying tourist type. but honest to joe, there were 12 people to every car on that street. and there were three people.

nosy.

i saw 3 different ladies with face band-aids today. one of them had, more specifically, a nose band-aid. the band-aid wasn't on the stiff upper part of the nose that can hold its own against the rest of the face, it was instead on the tip bit that is so small that it appears to have never worked a day in its life. this is unfortunate.

vair vair nice.

want.

saturday night.

no-se.

if only, but sadly no. it is for-boden. darn.

in other news, i truly embraced the hipster spirit this weekend and bought an old lime green grandma sweater and some 'sneakers' as well as an etching. hmm. the party may have rubbed off.

also, things that are awkward: buying feminine products (ha) at the newsstand in a train station. they are right next to the stale cigarettes leaking menthol and the rotten snuff leaking cocoa powder. the lady who works there is also a little hard of hearing. unfortunate.

please no.

things not to do:
- ride a honking (ha.) big motorcycle on the sidewalk next to a policeman-on-bike
- wear a shirt that is actually just a very large mesh gym sock
- trip
- get botulism
- tell your locavore boss that canned foods scare you

things to do:
- go hipster spotting in rittenhouse square
- go dog spotting in rittenhouse square
- be the lame note taking intern at the cookbook meeting
- eat
- buy 3 dresses and a shirt in 3 minutes and 82 seconds (my time measurement system is based on tens, suck it.) without bothering to try any of them on (the wonders of returns!)
- eat
- buy really fancy tennis balls with your dad

love love and sweater love.

things made:
-card involving a be-sweatered goat
-scallops grilled on a ceder plank with lemon dill sauce
-extra chubby grilled shrimp with a dusting of cayenne and black pepper
-grilled asparagus
-balsamic mushroom rice

love.

clocks.

it never occurred to me that these two could be logically combined, but this film is a well done and eerie amalgamation of dali and disney. disnali?

if only.

how sweet would it be if i lacquered my lips like this and wore my fantabulous grillz? i'd be ready for any poppin' party. suck it.

no work.

so no crazy copy-editing today. or tomorrow. lcky dck. today is just me enjoying the prettyful day. watering the neighbors plants, collecting pictures, watching more mj stuffs, drinking too strong venezuelan coffee, and perhaps going on a bike ride.
also, i'm still digesting sunday's epic brunch. it is brunch in name alone. this seasonal meal is a veritable avalanche of amuse bouches in japanese soup spoons, a melting glacier of things in shot glasses, and of course some bangin' ass shrimp cocktail. check check it out and drool. (click the brunch menu). the only downside is apparently i still look underage... (no chardonnay for me)

maybe it's because i ordered milk in a wine glass...

enjoy.

here is a crap-load of free music (80 or so songs). from urban outfitters, i know i know. but we love it deep down. i highly recommend delta spirit.

what's this?

what could be better than badminton, eating, apples to apples, and trampoline philosophizing?
nothing pretty much...
some choice quotes:
"the world consumes what i consume, like it comes out of my belly button"
"deep down in my soul i know... it's like peeling off the veils of my .... self"
"i have cotton in my sinuses"
"i can't feel the middle portion of my body, like where my shorts meet my self"
"hoy britney spears, hoy hoy hoy"
"funny one, paranoid one, sleeping one"
"tag-along friend vs. tagalog language"
"samosas?"
in text "have you ever seen the hangover?" response "who is this? and no."

soda, pop.

really good advice from me:
don't read lolita at work. it makes for awkward conversation.

what do you do if...

-you see your childhood psychiatrist at work?
-you get bitched out for not heating someones food up enough?
-someone from your high school looks straight at you and then looks away in some unsavory emotion?
-you smell like curry 24/7?
-everything on tv is michael jackson? (not complaining, really)
-your bangs grew an inch in three days?
-someone calls the indian stand where you work asking for the women's sexual health center?
-your dad's commie friend from venezuela sent you 8 lbs of chocolate?

parfumerie.

it is highly possible at this point that i have a picture collecting problem. i label collect and label them obsessively. perhaps i am a computerized pack wrat. i really hope not.

also, today = perfume shopping for my mom's birthday. i think after smelling three perfumes, your nose sensor things get screwed up. i'll probably pick one that smells like roses to me but is really made of bull semen or something.

tu es tout.

while this is by no means a new revelation, i love this music video. especially the lyrics.
it makes my brain sort of try to ooze around in my skull... but in a good way.

pop.

i love kosher hot dogs (knockwurst preferably). especially when they are grilled to a blister over a rickety charcoal grill, tucked between a toasty bun, and slathered in cold ketchup, sweet relish, and a dab of grey poupon mustard. yum. yum yumyumyum.
even better accompanied by my mom's cannelloni bean or potato salad. gahgahah. i'm hungry.

train train go away.

yesterday i took an express train to the nether-burbs. it would have been all normal and regular train weirdness (dudes drinking beer, bible study, crying baby, lady who is asleep and not dead hopefully), but no, the crazy threesome had to sit next to me. so i dutifully plug in my headphones to drown them out with npr (hallelujah) but they are just a little bit too loud. also, the lady next to me would look at me every time someone said something remotely funny as if i was supposed to guffaw or at least emit some forced chuckle. i can't hear you lady, there are voices in my head! anyway, eventually i realized that the dude was telling his two lady friends about his recent colonoscopy (very detailed) and how he drank 10 times the max amount of laxative by accident and thought it tasted like a milkshake. that's just silly.

moral of the train ride; don't ride the train.