June 19, 2009

I am a little bit of a military nerd. Like if you need someone to give you a vague and only somewhat accurate rundown of like Marine Corps rank structure, and you can’t find ANYBODY ELSE, you should totally ask me.

HOWEVER. I just had the most epic failure to understand what someone is talking about.

So earlier today I was sending someone a birthday email certificate thing. And I turned to Husband Guy and said “What’s her email address?” and he said: “Okay, it’s “ALPHA ROMEO FOXTROT”.” And I said “…really? What a weird email address.” and he said “…” and looked at me like I was being strange and so I went ahead and hit send.

And an hour or two later, the email came back undeliverable! OH NOES. And I sent it on Husband Guy, all “I must have written the email address down wrong! Help!” and like 40 seconds later, my phone rings.

And I pick up.

And Husband Guy is laughing at me.

“…what,” I say.

“It isn’t “AlphaRomeoFoxtrot79”, it’s “ARF79”. You know, their initials and birth year, and I was saying it in phonetic alphabet?”


“Are you there?”



Also, one of the best wedding gifts in the world arrived at our house. To whit, a subscription to MEAT PAPER: THE MAGAZINE ABOUT MEAT*. It’s pretty crazy. This issue is THE PIG ISSUE. And it comes in a plain brown wrapper, so now all the elderly ladies in our building probably think we’re huge porn fiends. GLORIOUS.


I went swimming at the Y today, and– okay, I can swim. I’m not going to drown or anything. And I’m not afraid of water. But I’m not a good swimmer.

(Person I am discussing going swimming with: “You don’t have SWIM GOGGLES???” Me: “Um, my face doesn’t really get wet…?”

I’m like… oh, you know that picture of Chairman Mao swimming in the river? THAT’S ME. My head bobs along just above the surface, and who knows what’s going on down below. FRANTIC PADDLING, probably.)

Anyway, I picked the SLOW lane, but there were two V. ELDERLY (seriously. 90+) folks in the lane, and at first I was all “Maybe I should pick a more rambunctious lane – are there unwritten YMCA rules about the whippersnappers staying out of the lane for our elders?” but then I realized that the elders were in fact going to be zipping by me at every turn, so that I’d have to wait politely at the end of the lap for them to pass me… sigh.


*Actually Meatpaper is a print magazine of art and ideas about meat. We like metaphors more than marinating tips. We are your journal of meat culture. – but I think that THE MAGAZINE ABOUT MEAT is better.

Stuff/Hike of doom

June 17, 2009

1) So as you may know, I got married. Except that recently we were all “I wonder how long it takes to get the certified copies of your marriage license so you can prove that you’re married!” and then The Husband asked the officiating body and they were all “…oh, uh, we’ll totally mail that off to the county today. But don’t worry, you have like a year to take care of it!” – and then we realized that perhaps we are not yet actually legally married. I figure this is my big chance to run away to South America! WHO’S WITH ME.

2) Speaking of running away to South America, I really liked Up. Mostly because it featured super-awesome talking dogs,who say basically the exact things I had always suspected dogs would say, like “I DO! I DO WANT TO CHASE THE BALL!”

3) I am not actually going to run away to South America, I promise. However, this does give me a chance to mention that on the rare occasion when my husband and I bicker, it is only ever about completely ridiculous things like:

*Israel and Palestine (…)
*How to monetize news on the internet (we had a fight about this. YES. And in the middle of it I said “WHY ARE WE FIGHTING ABOUT THIS?!?” and he said “I DON’T KNOW.”)
*Why he doesn’t get his own library card (“You don’t know, I could be like Jason Bourne, trying to stay off the grid and stuff.”)
*Why I routinely overbuy when it comes to fruit (“Because fruit is delicious! I’M SORRY IF YOU CAN’T SEE THAT.”)

4) We went to see TERMINATOR: SALVATION with our friends Matt and Mrs. Matt and afterward instead of being bothered by story problems or things like that Matt got very bothered by UNLIKELY HEAT CONVECTION PATTERNS and I got very bothered by the fact that after the apocalypse if you had like 6 remaining A-10s you wouldn’t tell your A-10 pilots to punch out when they got in trouble, you’d be all “YOU BETTER STAY IN THAT BIRD UNTIL IT PLOWS INTO THE DIRT, JERKFACE.”

My god, I am such a nerd. EVERYONE I KNOW IS SUCH A NERD. Do you ever get that?

5) Here is a video of people dressed like monks. With fire on their heads. ON SEGWAYS. Playing Philip Glass. It is The Best:

6) If you are interested in doing something fairly awesome, you could maybe consider joining the national bone marrow registry.

If you sign up at that link they’ll send you a kit so you can swab the inside of your cheeks (JUST LIKE ON CSI OR WHATEVER) and mail it back to them, get tissue-typed, added to the registry, etc. And if you sign up before June 22, it’s FREE.

I know, you may be reading this and going “Wait, wait, they want my bone marrow AND I normally have to pay for it?!?” – tissue-typing is expensive, and you are lucky enough to live in THE GREATEST AND BEST COUNTRY IN THE WORLD WHERE WE DON’T BELIEVE IN A BUNCH OF FRENCH CRAP LIKE SINGLE-PAYER PUBLIC HEALTH DEALIOS. But the point is, they have funding right now, so you can get into the registry for no money. And if you ever get matched, that person’s insurance pays for the actual procedure. Which is also not that big a deal and will not involve you dying or anything. And wouldn’t it be cool to be able to help someone who was really sick? OF COURSE IT WOULD. So you should think about signing up. You know… if you want.

7) Recently my husband was on the phone with Army and the guy asked what he was doing now, and he said “Well, right now I’m freelancing in the entertainment industry–” and there was a pause and then he said “But it’s not dirty or anything!” and naturally as soon as he got off the phone I asked what was up, and he said that the guy had paused and said “I hope it’s nothing that will impact your clearance” in serious, “Tell me you don’t work in porn, son” tones.

And then I told that story to my BFF and she said that when she recently left LA for a year, someone at her job had assumed that “Used to work in the entertainment industry” was code for “Used to work in the porns”.

Man! Is this a common thing? I DON’T WANT PEOPLE TO THINK I WORK IN PORN.

FINALLY: I went on a hike recently in a nature area. The park’s website described the path as:

Although it starts off steep, the wide easy trail meanders through chaparral, walnut woodland and coastal sage scrub, and is well-shaded.

Lies. DIRTY FILTHY LIES. For “steep” you should read “practically vertical” and for “starts off” you should read “continues on that way forever and ever, only briefly leveling out here and there to sucker you into a sense of false confidence before WHAMMO ANOTHER INCLINE”. And I don’t even know what “the wide easy trail meanders” is about. Man! There was an athletic lady with her friend on the trail ahead of us, and at one point the less-athletic friend stopped and gasped “I don’t think I can go on!” and the athletic lady said “It flattens out right up there!” and the less-athletic friend said “I believe you. But no.”

And because I am slightly more stubborn than I am lazy, we pushed ahead to the “top”, but I totally wanted to go find the less-athletic friend and be all “You were so right on, this trail DOESN’T FLATTEN OUT AT ALL, EVER, ALSO YOU GET TO THE TOP AND THEY START HAVING GIANT “BEWARE OF THE RATTLESNAKES” SIGNS”.

Another way to explain how terrible this hike was is that at the trailhead I saw a girl doing Serious Runner Stretches, and I was really impressed – wow, she was going to run up that whole hill? But then I realized that no, she was just walking.

And for like two minutes I felt smug in my head. HAH! She did Serious Hamstring Stretches before going for a light Sunday-afternoon hike? And then I came around yet another turn and saw yet another STEEP HILL.


…so I can cart all my belongings around with me forever and ever and never have to move again.

OR I’m going to force THE HUSBAND OF THE PRESENT* to rejoin the military, where they send basically the Delta Force of movers over to your house to swarm all over it like a bunch of locusts (except they pack things instead of eating them.) and then they also unpack it at the other end. GLORIOUS. In fact this is such a great perk that I don’t understand why recruiting commercials don’t feature it heavily.




I just moved (you know… so I could live in the same apartment as my HUSBAND OF THE PRESENT) and it was the worst. THE WORST. I won’t even detail how awful, because you’ve moved a few times in your life. YOU KNOW IT SUCKS.

To illustrate how terrible it was, here is a video of two camels in a small car. They are making angry noises. CAMELS ARE AWESOMELY GROUCHY:

Man… that makes me laugh. Can you imagine the process of cramming two cranky camels into a passenger car? THAT IS ONE BRAVE OR EXTREMELY FOOLHARDY BEDOUIN.

Anyway, moving. TERRIBLE.

*…we successfully got ourselves married off. I find it sort of awesome when people say “Congratulations!” as though it was some kind of tremendous feat like winning the California lottery or defeating polio.