Saturday, January 6, 2007

cheese is bad. cheese is good.

I just got back from the café around the corner, after a sudden pang for coffee (Why I needed a coffee at midnight, I don't know.) and maybe something to eat. When I was standing in line, I could already taste the Veggie Cheese Lasagna, all hot and tasty. When I got to the register, I asked the guy if the vegetables were chunky or finely cut. He said he couldn't remember and went back to the kitchen to check. When he came back, he told me the carrots and broccoli (How do you spell broccoli?) were the biggest chunks. But even before he returned from the kitchen, I had already changed my mind and was craving a Quesadilla with Chips & Salsa. Only then did he finally say, "Well, actually, other than stuff we can microwave, like the burritos, we can only make nachos. The kitchen is closed." The place stays open until 1am, yet they close the damn kitchen at 11! So, I got a mocha and a banana muffin and came home. I didn't need all that cheese anyway.

+ It's so cold outside, I was freezing despite wearing a knit scarf and knit sweater. The wind was going right through me. And I need to buy gloves. Brr!

+ Netflix sent me The Machinest. I saw a behind-the-scenes interview with Christian Bale and he said that he starved himself to get as grotesquely thin as he was in the movie. Talk about "method". He said he didn't eat for weeks. I know, logically, that's a bad thing to do, but for a second there I thought, "Damn! I should do that shit!" Not more than an hour later, I was in the Taco Bell drive-thru. I have no self-control!

+ Netflix also sent me Sketches of Frank Gehry. Being the big architecture-ist and design aficionado that I am, I can't wait to watch this quasi-documentary. Quasi, only because Sydney Pollack chose to produce the film in a non-traditional manner (If that makes any sense).

+ L'Eau d'Issey Pour Homme. I wear it and I love it, but nobody else seems to notice it. Before you buy a cologne, you imagine yourself walking into a room and hearing someone say, "Oooh! Who smells so good?" and then you say, "Oh, it could be me", while you feign a certain amount of modesty. At least, that's what goes through my mind anyway. And I haven't heard a word from anyone! So, either they can't smell it and I need to spray on more OR they can smell it and don't want to offend me. I don't want to go back to wearing Polo Black (Or do I?). That was a disappointing purchase.

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