The Dromomaniac

Imflowing

I just re-read "When You Are Engulfed In Flames" by David Sedaris. We're going to see him in October and I just felt the need to read something ridiculous after a series of less-than-satisfying novels. My favorite part by far is "The Smoking Section." Similar to his experiences in Parisian language school, he recounts mistranslations while in Japan and for anyone who has ever taught English or tried to learn another language, it's freakin' hilarious.

I was literally crying last night as Mr. Sedaris detailed bizarre English phrases he'd found in Japan. An aside: this is far more common than you'd think. Walk around Chinatown in NYC and look to see the cheap clothes that Chinese people - not tourists - actually buy. It's littered with incomprehensible English phrases. Which is cause to pause: is that cool kanji tattoo really saying anything? Or in my case, does it say "Dumb round eye thinks this says something cool"? 

Anyway, my favorite sentence in the book is from the description of the craftsperson who'd made a clay tea set. It read "With being enchanted by the warmth of Cray and the traditional of pottery over the period so far she is playing active parts widely as coordinator who not only produce and design hers own pottery firstly but suggest filling Human's whole life with fun and joyful mind." 

Now I know I am really in no position to criticize this since I can't even imagine learning to speak Japanese, but I also know that there are no less than 5,683 English schools in Tokyo alone. Sure the eloquence above could've been proofed by one of them. 

This did get me thinking about some of the things my students have said. Recently, one kid wrote that we worked on "math shits" instead of "math sheets" and I didn't bother to correct him. In conversation, my favorite description came from an adult telling me how to cook a certain dish. She told me to "add mushroom first because he takes longest to cook." 

Poor mushroom.

Oh, AND

<------------ Check out the photos of the shower in June over there!

Spank My Doodle Dandy

Paul and I decided to go for a bike ride along the river bike path yesterday, a nice, wholesome 4th of July activity. What we didn't count on was the Great American News Company being hoppin' busy. (GANC is, not surprisingly, a porn shop.) We were both so impressed that Paul promptly gave a fist-pump and yelled "Porn on the 4th of July!" His fate was thusly sealed. 

Back in 2007, my friend AJ described a contest in which he and his friends challenged themselves to come up with porn alternative titles for main stream films. There were many rules and ways of issuing points, but apparently the highly-sought titles were those that required only one letter changing. It's a lot more difficult than it sounds, believe me. 

So anyway, I immediately told Paul about that, so we came up with "Star Whores," "Cumdog Millionaie," and "Milf." We noted that many, like "Scent of a Woman" and "Snatch" don't need our help. And my dear friends have since contributed "Raiders of the Lost Cock," "The Empire Strokes Back," "Cream Girls," "The Sperminator," and "The Porn Supremacy."

Well done, my dears.

Check In

Summer has sort of disappeared. It's a shame because I rather like it. It's been cool and cloudy and drizzly for a few days. I know I ought no complain because downstaters will have no sympathy, but I'm trying to camel up my sun for the long winter. So this kinda sucks.

Anyway, today is the 4th. And since I'm off all summer, it's kind of the same as any other day, except I made lemon cupcakes for a party later and I don't do that every day. What can I say? I'm that kinda girl.

I've been in a mini-panic about wedding planning, or the lack thereof. We really have been very lax and I'm now worried. I finally went and ordered some decorations (Novena candles, anyone?) and have a meeting with the caterer on Monday but we still have no clue what we're doing about music, flowers, etc etc etc. Fun. And ours is low-key. Remind me why anyone enjoys doing this? I think being a wedding planner has got to be the worst job in the world. Right after Thruway toll take, of course.

Bronzed and battered

So over the weekend, I decided to go sunbathing at the lake at Allegheny State Park while Paul was mountain biking. I got me a new bikini that I lurrrrrrve and I wanted to give her a test run before Greece. I typically don't trust bikinis to stay put, so the test run was of utmost importance.

I rode my bike from camp to the beach and stripped down to my skivvies. I sunk the kickstand of the bike down into the sand so it was good and sturdy before lounging out on the towel. I laid on my belly reading for quite a bit before something very heavy fell on me.

After I shook off the pain, I realized my bike fell over and on me. I was stuck for a minute or two: that fucker was heavy and my bottom half was totally trapped. I trashed about underneath it, trying to get an arm wrapped far enough back to pull it partially off. I couldn't kick it off because it covered both my legs from thigh down. I was finally able to lift it enough to be able to turn over, at which point I scootched out from underneath. 

I'm pleased to report that the bikini passed the test. Not a single nipple fell out during the thrashing. And the ginorous bruise now covering my left calf totally matches the paisley-ish blue of the suit. Bonus, I say.

Dear Brain,

Hey, how's it going? 

Remember that chat we had about a week or two ago? About how I can sleep in after June 26th? Yeah, well, this is precisely what I was talking about. For future reference, there's no godly reason to wake me up at 6:30 these days. In fact, it's rather cruel. The sooner you learn to cut that shit out, the sooner we'll like you a whole lot more.

Most sincerely,

The rest of you

Back for the Attack

The very Dokkened title really has nothing to do with this post other than that we are back home.

We spent the weekend at Allegheny State Park down in the Southern Tier. Paul had a biking festival he wanted to go to, so we volunteered to help out in exchange for free stay. The benefits were: (a) freeness, (b) lots and lots of sunshine on Saturday, and (c) sleeping in a tent, on of my favorite things in the world. The drawbacks were (a) lack of lots and lots of sunshine today (Sunday), (b) rain instead, and (c) me killing time while Paul patrolled as his bikely duties. I did manage to read an entire book in two days, which is not unheardof for me, but still. And the aforementioned sunshine got me back to a lovely toasty brown, at least on my shoulders and face. My legs, sadly and disturbingly, remain a slightly pink cottage cheese color. Yum.

ANYway, while we were away, I managed to read lots-n-lots about Greece and Croatia and I think I got a route planned. we also managed to score some drama on the home front, which is always fun to come back to. Alas. But it's summer and I'm off, so really... do I care? 

My Brother's Keeper

Skip this if you're not in the mood for a rant.

So that movie "My Sister's Keeper" is out and I have no interest in seeing it. I did, however, have high interest in reading reviews because the premise is so bizarre. Apparently, it's based on the Jodi Picoult novel of the same name about a couple that produces a child to harvest blood and organs for an ill older child. It's a horrifying concept and I kept wondering who would be sick enough to do that, and what doctor would allow a child to be subjected to such torture?

And then, Michael Jackson up and died.

The connection, of course, is very clear: Michael was that kid being picked clean. I've always felt bad for the guy. All signs point to his guilt in the child molestation case, but who knows what really went on? All we know is that he was an incredibly tragic figure. What kind of abuse could cause a person to be so filled with self-loathing that he would destroy his face? And what kind of parents would so pimp out a kid for their own profit at such a young age? Michael never stood a chance in that family and in our culture. He, Anna Nicole Smith, Lindsey Lohan - they're all the same. The people closest to them didn't give a shit about them as long as the money kept coming in. The saddest part of all is that no one did a damn thing to stop any of it. We watched Anna Nicole's E! reality show and it was clear that the woman was doped up out of her mind 90% of the time. Why didn't anyone step in to help her? Michael had been wasting away for years, and yet some investors swooped in to arrange concerts in London to squeeze what little there was left of him. 

I feel guilty watching any of this. Our society is so selfish and greedy that lives mean nothing. We can all speculate on what actually killed Michael, but in fact we did. Our society killed him. We're all guilty.

Ouch

I'm all about feast or famine. Either I commit to extreme inertia, or I exercise so much I ache all over. It's quite shocking I'm not bulimic.

On Saturday, we walked to the Bidwell market and home, which ended up totaling about 7 miles. On Sunday, we went on a 18 miles bike ride, and I don't normally bike. On Monday, I walked 5 miles to the gym and then worked out with my trainer. Yesterday, we cycled again for 14 miles. And today? Oh, just a little elliptical, weights, and swimming.

Seriously. Everything hurts. Even my hair.

Goofball Two

I'm not a big bike rider. I always fantasize about becoming a serious errand-cycler - I'm convinced that some day, some way, I'll use my bike for every localish errand feasible. That hasn't yet happened, and I honestly don't know if it ever will. I think cycling in Brooklyn so traumatized  me that I go into a near-panic when I think about riding on real roads and I simply go to the park as quickly as possible and stick to the carless paths there. I have to remind myself that this is Buffalo, not Brooklyn, where bike lanes apparently exist so people can triple park.

Anyway, Paul couldn't go mountain biking yesterday because it rained badly Saturday night and he didn't want to get stuck in a mudslick. We'd talked about going kayaking, but it's more fun to go with at least one other person. We decided instead to go for a ride on the bike path that follows the river.

Gulp.

This sounded easy enough, but the truth is that I hadn't been on a long ride in, erm, years. Serious, I can't even remember when. But hey, why not, right? I could handle a silly bike path! We rode all the way to the canal in Tonawanda, around the path there, looping back and around before heading down towards Buffalo. I love the path along the canal! It's pretty and quiet and perfect for a leisurely ride. 

I began to get pretty tired on the way home, so we took a little break at a park near Hertel. Paul rode in before me and was immediately chatted up by a little kid named Mason Francis. He smiled and yelled "Hi Jamie!" as I rode in and talked to me about everything a 3 year old can talk about. Apparently, he turned into The Hulk. I said something about being a goofball, so he promptly began calling me that. As we left, he said "You're a goofball, too!" and I responded with "Well you're a goofball three!" So he logically enough punched my butt cheek.

Enchante, Monsieur, enchante.