Guy I'm interviewing: I know we'll weather the storm, but we'll probably come out on the other end substantially less robust, if you will. It'll take some of the spank out of us."
Me: Heh, heh. It'll take some of the "spank" out of you?
Guy: No, it'll take some of the STRENGTH out of us.
Me: Oh. Whoops.
Good thing I checked that one.
Friday, June 26, 2009
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Sometimes your carrot looks just like your finger.
Sometimes you decide you've had QUITE ENOUGH carrots for the day, thank you.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Thursday, June 4, 2009
A Thing From Florence (Oregon)
Sith (the husband formerly known as Seth) and I went to this amazing little Italian restaurant. Everything on the menu looked really good. I decided, however, that none of the menu items was good enough for my highly refined sense of taste, so when the waitress took our order, I said, "I'll have the Chicken Something (a pasta dish), minus the chicken, but add peas and pine nuts."
REALLY, Dani?
The beautiful waitress looked at me with a look that said, "you are surprisingly ridiculous," but she said okay.
I spent the next 15 minutes longing to just start over. Longing to rewind for a moment and just say, "I'll have the Veal Marsala." The veal marsala would probably have been excellent.
AGONY. I was SO EMBARRASSED.
Sith was flabbergasted. He brought up the time we were playing Family Feud online with my little brothers, and the clue was "name something you put on a burrito," and Josh put his game face on and said "lettuce." and then the clue was, "name a song with a city name in the title," and Josh confidently said, "It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas" and then couldn't figure out why I was cracking up.
Anyway. My pasta was good.
REALLY, Dani?
The beautiful waitress looked at me with a look that said, "you are surprisingly ridiculous," but she said okay.
I spent the next 15 minutes longing to just start over. Longing to rewind for a moment and just say, "I'll have the Veal Marsala." The veal marsala would probably have been excellent.
AGONY. I was SO EMBARRASSED.
Sith was flabbergasted. He brought up the time we were playing Family Feud online with my little brothers, and the clue was "name something you put on a burrito," and Josh put his game face on and said "lettuce." and then the clue was, "name a song with a city name in the title," and Josh confidently said, "It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas" and then couldn't figure out why I was cracking up.
Anyway. My pasta was good.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
A Conundrum
I have this slice of cheese. Cheddar. Thin. Machine-cut.
I brought it to work so I could eat it with some crackers. But I only ate half of it. (But it was good.)
It's in a ziplock baggie.
I want to save it for tomorrow, but I feel weird about putting a half slice of cheddar cheese in the communal refrigerator. In a baggie with my name on it. I will be judged.
I suppose the only solution is to stealthily tape it to the underside of a refrigerator drawer for the night and stealthily retrieve it in the morning.
Good thing I'm a stealthy kind of person.
I brought it to work so I could eat it with some crackers. But I only ate half of it. (But it was good.)
It's in a ziplock baggie.
I want to save it for tomorrow, but I feel weird about putting a half slice of cheddar cheese in the communal refrigerator. In a baggie with my name on it. I will be judged.
I suppose the only solution is to stealthily tape it to the underside of a refrigerator drawer for the night and stealthily retrieve it in the morning.
Good thing I'm a stealthy kind of person.
Monday, May 11, 2009
Dani the Poet
There was this one time, in 2000, when I wrote a poem.
It was a sonnet. I waxed rhapsodic about how I wanted to live in the days of "yore," when people wore pretty dresses and rode around in carriages and didn't have to go to stupid high school and write stupid poems.
It was not the most well researched poem ever written.
But sometimes, at the oddest moments, the closing couplet pops into my head:
"But those times have passed, as all times must pass,
with only the good things recalled at last."
SO GOOD and SO WISE, right? Every time I think of those lines, I give myself a little pat on the bat and smirk at the rest of the world, full of people who are not as good at poetry as I am.
It was a sonnet. I waxed rhapsodic about how I wanted to live in the days of "yore," when people wore pretty dresses and rode around in carriages and didn't have to go to stupid high school and write stupid poems.
It was not the most well researched poem ever written.
But sometimes, at the oddest moments, the closing couplet pops into my head:
"But those times have passed, as all times must pass,
with only the good things recalled at last."
SO GOOD and SO WISE, right? Every time I think of those lines, I give myself a little pat on the bat and smirk at the rest of the world, full of people who are not as good at poetry as I am.
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