NY Times sez "It's fashionable to be rude"

Okay. So I only read the first couple of paragraphs of this article, (because after the first couple of paragraphs it became apparent to me that it was another NYT fake trend piece) but I don't know anyone (and I've lived in Silicon Valley) who thinks it's polite to constantly check ones phone during a conversation unless the phone can provide direct information pertaining to said conversation ("What time did you say we were meeting her?" "I don't remember, let me check what her text message and/or email said."). I don't think people who are texting and emailing and checking facebook while they are talking to me are "wired, well-put-together [people]" - I think they're people who suffer from issues with self-control or a pathological inability to be comfortable in their present situation.

Milk(?) Moustache

Cornell has a really awful picture up on its main page today of President Skorton with something white smeared across his upper lip, in an effort to suggest we should all drink more milk.

I don't like milk. But even if I did or even believed that we should "all drink more milk" this detestable campaign would be off putting. BLECH.

Bread, soup, tea, nap, Dan Savage.

We joined a bread CSA. I like to make my own bread and usually do so instead of buying it, but I don't have own an oven modeled on the great Spanish ovens of the late 19^th century. The flour comes from a local miller and the bread is the best bread I've ever had.

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Last night I made one of the better leek and potato soups. Thyme, bay and both black and white pepper were my herbal additions. Yum.There are leftovers. YUM.

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I'm more tired than I normally am on Mondays. I have to be at work earlier than is comfortable for me and I am, oddly enough, usually early. I get in early which means I can leave a little early, although since I do it every day, it doesn't feel early which has made getting in "on time" feel late because it means I have to stay later than normal. Which means I have less time for the nap I take after work to catch up on sleep. This might seem silly, however, because of the fact that even if I were to get to work on time instead of early, I would STILL want to nap afterwards and most likely for the same amount of time. I'm trying to break this nap habit, because I end up feeling like I'm wasting the afternoon. I've been failing at that and have recently adopted a compromise: scheduled napping (instead of passing out on the couch for 2 hours as soon as I've finished my post-work tea and then waking up realising that the laundry still isn't folded and I've got to go to the grocery store). 

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Dan Savage is speaking at Cornell tonight. I'm pretty excited to see him - not so much for his recent work, although I think it was a great campaign, but because I think that if everyone followed Dan Savage's advice (which could be paraphrased as saying: Treat Everyone With Common Decency), everyone would be a lot happier. 

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Stupid Sweater

I saw this knitting pattern the other day for the "Atlas Shrug", thought that the absurdity of the design (why would you wear a shrug when it most certainly will do nothing to keep you  shoulders warm, but be uncomfortable to wear in warmer weather?) must be the reason it was named as it was: to illustrate the absurdity of Ayn Rand.

Notes from when Ryan was away.

A few nights ago, I was walking to Madeline's to meet someone for late night drinks after a strange evening. As I crossed Lincoln Street, I heard screaming from two blocks up, from someone standing by the Creeker.

"Imonna kill you! Imonna fucking kill you!!"

And so on.

I would have been more alarmed if I hadn't spent more than a few nights at the Creeker myself: generally the atmosphere is very friendly and family-like, but, as with all real families, there are going to be times when someone will threaten to kill someone else over something seemingly trivial.

The next morning, I ate at a diner and read this poem on the menu:

Spoon

Spoon

Spoon

Oh how it feels

to be dipped into the soup.

Knife

Knife
Knife
A knife
Watch out I will get you.

Fork
A fork
A fork
Oh how it feels
to be stabbed into a cake
A fork
A fork.

Lastly, I had very long an involved dream last night that involved me winning a radio contest to spend a day with a celebrity whom I can't bring myself to name. We got along great until he attempted to rape me, which I talked him out of by explaining that I wasn't going to remove my shorts and he shouldn't rip them off of me because they were my favourite pair (I pondered this upon waking up and in my half asleep state came to the conclusion that the weirdest part of that scenario was that I don't really wear shorts very often, as I prefer skirts and dresses for hot weather).

Then he left and I spent a good deal of time trying to convince my ex-boyfriend that I had actually spent the day with this celebrity and aside from him being psychotic and rapey, he was kind of fun to hang out with, as long as I avoided giving him coffee or any other kind of stimulant.