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.


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