In Soviet California Book Disgraces You
I'm not a Christmas-y person in general and this year less so than ever because:
a) I'm wearing flipflops and hope to get a pair of sunglasses under my tree.
b) I have no family or friends here and don't really know anyone worth celebrating with.
I am NOT complaining so this isn't a "WOE IS ME CONSOLE ME AND HUG ME" post.
I hope all of you have the BEST holidays ever though with your loved ones (or not), safe travels for those of you who are going away and may Santa bring you everything on your list, even though I KNOW most of you are bad girls. ;)
I finally figured out what to do for Christmas. I'll go to mass at the San Diego Mission in the beautiful 18th century church and later go whale watching on a harbor cruise. The last time I checked they had tickets available for Christmas Day so hopefully I can still make it.
Having said that...
California is weird, yo. Fo real. Which would normally suit me just fine since I've been living in various cities for half my adult life and my favorite place in the whole world is a little island called Manhattan, aka Crackpot Central. And also... I'm not exactly your standard definition of well adjusted, social butterfly so who am I to talk?
I went to Starbucks to buy some coffee for a present (yeah, I know, how lazy of me) and because I had some time to kill and a book in my bag, I sat down to read and sip my frappuccino. I had Ayn Rand's The Fountainhead with me, a book I started a while ago and then forgot about it and only found it because I finally unpacked this bag. I'm only some 50 pages into it and I'm enjoying it so when I heard some mumbling in my general vicinity, I didn't pay much attention because I was absorbed by the story and when I read I tend to tune out everything. The mumbling got louder and then I heard something about "moral cannibalism" and I thought some jerk had a problem with Starbucks inviting us to buy a pound of coffee for the soldiers in Iraq and Afghanistan, a cause which I wholeheartedly support since I can't imagine dealing with Al Qaida while groggy and cranky at the crack o'dawn. I was sitting right next to the mountain of coffee bags customers had donated that day so I just thought he was bitching about corporate greed and the industrial military complex of Ev0l, etc. Then I saw him getting closer and mumbling something about "Ayn Rand" and "moral cannibalism" and it became clear he had a problem with my book. I was slow and disoriented, my mind still in Henry Cameron's office so all I could manage was a strangled: "EXCUSE ME?" and by then the humongous mass of slackgear-clad potbelly and limbs plus one mocha grande was moving away from me, probably shaking his head in indignation.
And I wasn't even wearing my anti-Che Guevara "Communism Sucks" tshirt. Which I should probably burn while I'm a resident of the Republik.
a) I'm wearing flipflops and hope to get a pair of sunglasses under my tree.
b) I have no family or friends here and don't really know anyone worth celebrating with.
I am NOT complaining so this isn't a "WOE IS ME CONSOLE ME AND HUG ME" post.
I hope all of you have the BEST holidays ever though with your loved ones (or not), safe travels for those of you who are going away and may Santa bring you everything on your list, even though I KNOW most of you are bad girls. ;)
I finally figured out what to do for Christmas. I'll go to mass at the San Diego Mission in the beautiful 18th century church and later go whale watching on a harbor cruise. The last time I checked they had tickets available for Christmas Day so hopefully I can still make it.
Having said that...
California is weird, yo. Fo real. Which would normally suit me just fine since I've been living in various cities for half my adult life and my favorite place in the whole world is a little island called Manhattan, aka Crackpot Central. And also... I'm not exactly your standard definition of well adjusted, social butterfly so who am I to talk?
I went to Starbucks to buy some coffee for a present (yeah, I know, how lazy of me) and because I had some time to kill and a book in my bag, I sat down to read and sip my frappuccino. I had Ayn Rand's The Fountainhead with me, a book I started a while ago and then forgot about it and only found it because I finally unpacked this bag. I'm only some 50 pages into it and I'm enjoying it so when I heard some mumbling in my general vicinity, I didn't pay much attention because I was absorbed by the story and when I read I tend to tune out everything. The mumbling got louder and then I heard something about "moral cannibalism" and I thought some jerk had a problem with Starbucks inviting us to buy a pound of coffee for the soldiers in Iraq and Afghanistan, a cause which I wholeheartedly support since I can't imagine dealing with Al Qaida while groggy and cranky at the crack o'dawn. I was sitting right next to the mountain of coffee bags customers had donated that day so I just thought he was bitching about corporate greed and the industrial military complex of Ev0l, etc. Then I saw him getting closer and mumbling something about "Ayn Rand" and "moral cannibalism" and it became clear he had a problem with my book. I was slow and disoriented, my mind still in Henry Cameron's office so all I could manage was a strangled: "EXCUSE ME?" and by then the humongous mass of slackgear-clad potbelly and limbs plus one mocha grande was moving away from me, probably shaking his head in indignation.
And I wasn't even wearing my anti-Che Guevara "Communism Sucks" tshirt. Which I should probably burn while I'm a resident of the Republik.