This entry was more interesting in my head, I think. Oh, well.
So, there's this coffee cart that I walk past every morning on the way to work, and it's got a big sign advertising "180° Boiled Coffee." Which confuses me, right? How does that work, exactly - do they boil the coffee first, and then let it cool to 180°? Or is the boiling point of coffee lower than that of water? I guess that's plausible. Anyone know for sure?
Speaking of boiling things, did anyone watch Hell's Kitchen last night? I had it on while making cards. Does it seem to anyone else that they've got an exceptionally stupid/crazy bunch this year? With the fainting and the taking food out of the trash and the inability to debone a fish in less than 45 minutes (I may be casting stones in my glass house on that one, since I've never tried; but, dude) and the macho posturing and the sniping and the general carrying-on. CRAZY. And then the nomination shenanigans? I will admit to getting a little caught up in the drama of it all; I mean, obviously Joanna sucked, and I kind of like Jen but I was really furious that she let Melissa (who I cannot stand, by the way; her voice is like running a nutmeg grater across my inner ear) steamroll in a nomination of Julia. So I was happy when she came forward and nominated herself - because, seriously, you're going to nominate the woman who WON THE CHALLENGE FOR YOU? I feel like there's a lot of weird Survivor-esque "strategic" nominations. I suppose it had to happen sooner or later. Ooh, and it was really refreshing to see the guys squabbling and the women working together with no problems - I'm sure it'll be back to "normal" next week, because if the teevee tells us that a group of women can't work together without bitching at and backstabbing each other and trying to steal one another's boyfriends, well that must be true!
Speaking of women, I'm sure no one watched the Age of Love premiere, did they? I considered it, briefly, because I have a morbid fascination with The Death Of Culture And All Things Sacred, of which the mere existence of Age of Love is surely a sign; but my masochistic tendencies do not stretch that far. I flipped over for a few seconds, saw some woman introduce herself and then say, "And in case you were wondering, I'm 40," followed by a something rotten in the state of Denmark music cue, and I threw up in my mouth a little bit.
(I can't believe I just quoted Shakespeare while talking about Age of Love. That's probably an executable offense. And if it's not, it should be.)
I also can't believe I'm talking about reality shows so much. 'Tis the season, right? Well, y'all will be pleased to hear that On the Lot will not darken my doorstep again. I shall no longer waste my valuable time and brain cells on it.
Work is - you would not even believe it, people. I keep looking over my shoulder, waiting for Ashton Kutcher to jump out all, "You've been punk'd!"
In completely unrelated news, I really need to buy some new bras. Vicky's semi-annual sale starts today, which could be a blessing or a curse; maybe I'll swing by after work and see if the inevitable tide of madness has receded. Maybe I'll walk down to the Soho store if it's not too gross out - and it's really not that gross out today, so I don't know what everyone is complaining about. It's a little humid - okay, a lot humid - but it's barely 80 degrees. I don't know if it's the Burque blood in my veins or what, but everyone is whining about the weather and I just keep thinking, "That's it?" Two years ago, when I was still in the store, we had no A/C for two weeks of a July heat wave. It was so hot and humid that just breathing made you break out into a sweat. I was up to four or five iced coffees per day, just to make myself feel human again. This terrible, enervating heat-and-humidity one-two-punch that had staff and customers alike moving at about quarter-speed. Everything just wilted. I remember trying to wrap a giant, gorgeous Ansel Adams print (I was afraid to touch it - just so in awe) with yuzen paper, and it was so humid that the paper was like cloth and I couldn't get a good crease for love nor money. It was so humid, y'all, that water droplets were condensing on the ceiling and dripping down all over the store, like working in one of those rainforest exhibits in the zoo.
IT WAS SO HUMID YOU HAD TO JUMP IN THE SHOWER TO DRY OFF.
Heh. Anyway, I - how the hell did I get on this subject? [retraces semantic steps] Oh, right. Must buy new bras. Maybe will walk down to SoHo. Since walking is the only form of physical exercise I get these days, I try to do a lot of it. I mean, the only exercise apart from beating my head against my desk repeatedly - but that's anaerobic so it doesn't count.
Also I am looking at pens, and this company loses at capitalism, because they have like 12 different price lists and the items I'm trying to find are pictured in the catalog but don't appear on any of the price lists. Booooooo.
Speaking of boiling things, did anyone watch Hell's Kitchen last night? I had it on while making cards. Does it seem to anyone else that they've got an exceptionally stupid/crazy bunch this year? With the fainting and the taking food out of the trash and the inability to debone a fish in less than 45 minutes (I may be casting stones in my glass house on that one, since I've never tried; but, dude) and the macho posturing and the sniping and the general carrying-on. CRAZY. And then the nomination shenanigans? I will admit to getting a little caught up in the drama of it all; I mean, obviously Joanna sucked, and I kind of like Jen but I was really furious that she let Melissa (who I cannot stand, by the way; her voice is like running a nutmeg grater across my inner ear) steamroll in a nomination of Julia. So I was happy when she came forward and nominated herself - because, seriously, you're going to nominate the woman who WON THE CHALLENGE FOR YOU? I feel like there's a lot of weird Survivor-esque "strategic" nominations. I suppose it had to happen sooner or later. Ooh, and it was really refreshing to see the guys squabbling and the women working together with no problems - I'm sure it'll be back to "normal" next week, because if the teevee tells us that a group of women can't work together without bitching at and backstabbing each other and trying to steal one another's boyfriends, well that must be true!
Speaking of women, I'm sure no one watched the Age of Love premiere, did they? I considered it, briefly, because I have a morbid fascination with The Death Of Culture And All Things Sacred, of which the mere existence of Age of Love is surely a sign; but my masochistic tendencies do not stretch that far. I flipped over for a few seconds, saw some woman introduce herself and then say, "And in case you were wondering, I'm 40," followed by a something rotten in the state of Denmark music cue, and I threw up in my mouth a little bit.
(I can't believe I just quoted Shakespeare while talking about Age of Love. That's probably an executable offense. And if it's not, it should be.)
I also can't believe I'm talking about reality shows so much. 'Tis the season, right? Well, y'all will be pleased to hear that On the Lot will not darken my doorstep again. I shall no longer waste my valuable time and brain cells on it.
Work is - you would not even believe it, people. I keep looking over my shoulder, waiting for Ashton Kutcher to jump out all, "You've been punk'd!"
In completely unrelated news, I really need to buy some new bras. Vicky's semi-annual sale starts today, which could be a blessing or a curse; maybe I'll swing by after work and see if the inevitable tide of madness has receded. Maybe I'll walk down to the Soho store if it's not too gross out - and it's really not that gross out today, so I don't know what everyone is complaining about. It's a little humid - okay, a lot humid - but it's barely 80 degrees. I don't know if it's the Burque blood in my veins or what, but everyone is whining about the weather and I just keep thinking, "That's it?" Two years ago, when I was still in the store, we had no A/C for two weeks of a July heat wave. It was so hot and humid that just breathing made you break out into a sweat. I was up to four or five iced coffees per day, just to make myself feel human again. This terrible, enervating heat-and-humidity one-two-punch that had staff and customers alike moving at about quarter-speed. Everything just wilted. I remember trying to wrap a giant, gorgeous Ansel Adams print (I was afraid to touch it - just so in awe) with yuzen paper, and it was so humid that the paper was like cloth and I couldn't get a good crease for love nor money. It was so humid, y'all, that water droplets were condensing on the ceiling and dripping down all over the store, like working in one of those rainforest exhibits in the zoo.
IT WAS SO HUMID YOU HAD TO JUMP IN THE SHOWER TO DRY OFF.
Heh. Anyway, I - how the hell did I get on this subject? [retraces semantic steps] Oh, right. Must buy new bras. Maybe will walk down to SoHo. Since walking is the only form of physical exercise I get these days, I try to do a lot of it. I mean, the only exercise apart from beating my head against my desk repeatedly - but that's anaerobic so it doesn't count.
Also I am looking at pens, and this company loses at capitalism, because they have like 12 different price lists and the items I'm trying to find are pictured in the catalog but don't appear on any of the price lists. Booooooo.