I made this.

And I like it. Mostly. Some of the lines are crooked. The next few days will tell if I fix them before hanging it or decide to not look closely.

I fled north for a brief sojourn to a conference this weekend. Wednesday night or Thursday I head east for the second of two conferences in two weeks. Family obligations threaten to take me to Texas the following weekend. Shortly after I'll celebrate my first quarter century and the ability to rent a car without paying a $25 surcharge for being unwordly and fresh faced.

Smooth I am not. This morning at brunch I spilled a cute miniature pitcher of cream all over the table and my lap, and into the shopping bag of apparel purchased by my dining companion while we waited for our table at our too-cool-for-school cafe. My friend hopped up in search of more napkins from the kitchen. In the interim the woman at the next table gave me hers from under her glass. Her husband followed suit, sacrificing the napkin from his lap. The guy TWO TABLES DOWN passed his napkin over. What bystander effect? Too bad Kitty Genovese wasn't attacked in a posh Hollywood hot spot.

Complaints of luxury

I came home this afternoon to find a parking ticket on my car. . . my car that is parked in my own driveway. Apparently I was so rude as to "park in the sidewalk," even though the photos I subsequently took clearly show my tire falling on the driveway side of the driveway/sidewalk divide.

Once inside my home, I am greeted by three letters, documenting 10 visits to the Physical Therapist for which my insurance company claims to not have received the proper referral. The thing is, in addition to going through the third degree about the referral with the PT staff from the beginning, I've already submitted this referral to the insurance company. . . twice.

Adding humility to injustice, I went to the Korean Spa on Sunday with the dual purpose of celebrating Easter as well as ushering out the dregs of my near-death cold. They were fresh out of massage appointments, so I treated myself to my first facial. I'll spare you the details, but I'm not becoming a facial devotee - and, guess whose lower face is weirdly dry and chapped and exuberating a burning sensation. Mine.

So in one way, this is a crappy day. In another - imagine how inconvenient and unjust my life would feel if I had no car, no driveway, no insurance, and no means to buy myself facials on major holidays? I think it would be worse.

Hack and Phelm 101

Things I learned from being sick:

1. Unlike easy-prep chicken noodle soup, you have to stir tomato soup or it will burn the pan.

2. Burned tomato soup is still better than starting over.

3. Knowing someone from the internet for 2 months does not allow for enough time to adequately get to know a person before marrying him or her.

4. If you marry someone from the internet after knowing them for 2 months, it's a good idea to use birth control and avoid procreation with said individual.

5. Never buy cold medicine on a fever. You might find yourself with too much nighttime medicine and no daytime medicine. The prospect of operating a motor vehicle to return to the drugstore will present itself as a daunting, almost inconceivable task.

6. Anton, from the band The Brian Jonestown Massacre, is one weird dude; Joel, the tambourine guy, is kinda hot. Courtney Taylor from The Dandy Warhhols is decidedly hot.

7. There are some really affordable Korean Spa options in Los Angeles.

8. Eric Kandel, Nobel Prize-winning neuroscientist at Columbia, began his career hoping to find the loci of the ID, the Ego, and the Superego.

eumpf

I’m sick today. Like, for real. Like call-my-mom sick. Day-time television sick. Network day-time television.

Caught with my pants up.

One afternoon this week I decided to take an emergency 15 minute nap* in which I had hoped my synapses would reacquaint themselves with one another. I closed the door to my office, curled up on my little couch, set my trusty watch timer, and draped the leg of a (clean) pair of workout pants over my eyes to block out the light. I'm sleeping away in crazy-nap-dream land when someone knocks at my door. Who cares? It's closed. The door opens. Okay, potentially embarrassing, but it has to be one of the two people who actually visit my office on purpose, so not a big deal. Nope. It's a student in the class I'm TAing this quarter, looking for the number that will rectify the situation that began when her dad was in Peru when it was time to pay. . .Right - if what you're thinking is that a student walked into my office while I was sleeping WITH A PAIR OF WORKOUT PANTS ON MY FACE, you are right.

Later the person in the office next door stops by and I tell him about this awesome encounter, once again baffled by the brazen "kids these days" who think phrases like "lol" and "lmao" are appropriate in emails to professors and TAs asking for an A- instead of a C+ so they can get into medical school. Finally my friend says, "Geez. And it wasn't even your office hours or anything?" Office hours? Office hours. I think I have those - let me che - Yes, a student came into my office during office hours and found me sleeping on my couch with workout pants on my face.





*I don't even want to hear your whining. You too would take naps in your office if you had a little couch, or maybe just a pair of workout pants.

Lessons from my grandma and rock stars.

My grandma's always getting on my case to gain weight. I've conceded that I should bulk up my arms.

Last night I saw The New York Dolls. David Johansen also makes a compelling case for the value of weight-bearing exercise. Seriously, he should become an anti-drug motivational speaker. And keep his cute little polka dot jacket ON.


Joining the band for the first time at the 2004 UK reunion show and subsequently touring with the NYD, guitarist Steve Conte also makes a compelling, although slightly different, case for the value of weight-bearing exercise. I realize I stand mostly alone in this demographic, but by now you know how I feel about ambiguously (or not) Jewish men who are either approaching (or have passed) 40. Bonus points for androgeny. Last night Steve Conte was wearing this pretty awesome Superman shirt. He took it off. It was hot.


In today's "Irony: A closer look" segment, I had class at 10 this morning. It was raining when the alarm went off at 6:42am. I definitely wanted to stay in bed where it was warm and cozy. The class being a seminar on motivation, it just didn't feel right to skip the first day. So I drive across town to my place, shower, eat breakfast, and wait for 15 minutes in the rain for the bus to drop me off at school at 9:55. Fine. Perfect. Only then. . . the professor is not in class. A student hands out syllabi that have week 1 scheduled as "Sorry, but I am out of town. No Class." @#$%$@!@#$%%!!!