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Thursday, December 30, 2004

We interrupt this broadcast... 

Yet another "Does this happen to anyone else?" edition: So I woke up today with English Beat's "Mirror in the Bathroom" stuck in my head. Which isn't too bad a thing since I've been meaning to go buy it off of iTunes sometime.

But after an hour or so, I realized that my brain had quietly changed the lyrics it was mindlessly repeating, so that I was humming this:
Mirror in the bathroom
Please talk free
The door is locked
Just you and me
Can I take you to a restaurant
It's got glass tables
You can crap yourself while you are eating
This isn't the first time this has happened, either. About half the time that a song gets stuck in my head I realize after a while that something's happened to the lyrics while I wasn't paying attention. Usually something impolite, but sometimes just nonsensical. Does this happen to anyone else?
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Tuesday, December 28, 2004

I command you 

Help.

That is all.
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Saturday, December 25, 2004

Merry Christmas 

And now, of course, you see what I'll be up to for the next while. I discovered that only about 1/3 of my music was imported into my ITunes library - mostly I'm missing CDs I ripped to WMA, which take forever for ITunes to convert to AAC format. I figure in a day or two I should have it all imported to my sexy new baby.

***Now Playing: Soft Cell, "Sex Dwarf"***

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Monday, December 13, 2004

And they call him Sandy Claws... 



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Sunday, December 05, 2004

Does anyone else feel this way? 

I have a strange aversion to hearing my given name spoken, or to seeing it in print. When someone addresses me by name, it makes me feel - odd. When I see my name given to a character in a story, it's even odder - and when I write, "My name is ___" it's even odder yet, to the point of actual discomfort. When I think of myself in the third person, all I can use is "she" - my name creeps me out. Mostly, in my head, I am "we", although I'm pretty sure I'm not a multiple or anything really freaky like that - but there's me, and there's the person I talk to when I'm alone, and so even though that's also me, together we must be "we" - and that's how I think when I address myself.

Diminutives aren't the same. If someone calls me by an affectionate shortening of my name, it doesn't bother me. It's only my full given name that gives me the creeps - it makes me jump, it makes me nervous, it makes me wonder who people are talking about, because it can't possibly be me.

I don't know if this is an OCD thing, or some other thing, or just a me thing. At one point my brother and I assigned new names to each other - he addressed me as Joe, and I called him Betty Sue. It was a very silly thing, but I felt much more comfortable being called "Joe" than I did being called by my right name. I'm pretty sure it's not a gender thing - I think I'd have been as happy with "Betty Sue" as with "Joe" - but I can't explain it at all.

Anyone? Am I the only one?

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So I guess this means I'm an adult now. 

Last week, I cooked my first-ever Thanksgiving meal, all by myself. Well, OK, L's mom made the gravy. But I made the turkey and the stuffing and the asparagus. And T mashed the potatoes, but I cooked them, dammit.

The whole event was some kind of rite of passage for me . I tore up the white bread, I sauteed the celery and mushrooms and onions, I melted the butter and mixed the whole heart-attack-cocktail together with my bare hands. I stuffed the bird and pulled the skin over the openings and placed the strings to let me lift it out of the roaster. I poured even more butter into the roasting pan (L's mom blanched when she asked me how many tablespoons of butter went into the turkey and stuffing, and I told her that it wasn't a question of tablespoons, but pounds*) and I basted that bastard every half hour for three and a half hours. I poured yet another dollop of melted butter onto the casserole dish of vegetarian stuffing that I made especially for J & L, who are ovo-lacto-pisco-vegetarians (which means they eat eggs, milk and fish, except J doesn't eat fish, except he did last year when we were on a plane and we upgraded to first class and OMG the food, we had these crab-stuffed mushroom things that were incredible but that's another story), and all in all it took me seven damn hours but at the end of it I had a feast.

What really amazed me is that it all turned out well. I'm always surprised when my cooking adventures turn out well, despite a string of more-or-less successes lately. I mean, my chicken soup worked, even if it was too peppery for T; and everyone agreed that my lentil soup was the bomb. But Thanksgiving scared me. I mean, it's multiple dishes! And it takes all day! And there are so many, many steps for me to screw up!

But the turkey browned properly and was juicy and tender; the stuffing wasn't as good as my mom's, but it was close; and the asparagus steamed up just right and the potatoes were soft and tasty. And so I think that I might, just possibly, be a growup now.

*About 2 1/2, actually. See, you sautee the veggies in a ton of butter with poultry seasoning, and then you use more butter to mix them with the bread so that the bread is thoroughly moistened...anyway...

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Marriage is love.