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Her subject was Texas. To her, the Great State, as she called it, was “reactionary, cantankerous and hilarious,” and its Legislature was “reporter heaven.” When the Legislature is set to convene, she warned her readers, “every village is about to lose its idiot.” (02/01/2007, New York Times)
I saw Molly Ivins once, back when I was at Tech. She was giving a speech on some liberal cause or other in a large conference room. I was sitting in the back and what I remember most was her voice. If ever a person fit her voice, she was it. I could hear every single word and she wasn't using the microphone in front of her, being that it was probably too low.
The woman was tall and imposing, funny and genuine, honest and beloved. She'll be missed by both friends and enemies, which in these very, very divisive days, can't be said about very many people.
Yes, it's come to this: little French 5th graders are now spelling at the level of 2nd graders of 20 years ago. It's actually not that surprising, considering the way we type online and SMS and all that other crap I don't know about. But the geeky part? The French have been tracking this for 20 years. They...care. They care enough to do studies and pay people to do these studies.
Even better, they have an annual televised national competition on spelling and writing. It's called, "La Dictee," or something equally self-important and people play along at home. The contestants are adults. Not little children in spelling bees. This is a major sport in France. Yes, a sport. That's what they call it.
I have no idea why I love this language and these people. Maybe I'm a little ridiculous myself. Maybe.
Earlier this week, I ventured dangerously close to OTP so that I could buy some of the best chocolates in the city for my Valentine (and other people...and I got in trouble but it was worth it so I don't care). While Maison Robert sells mostly chocolate truffles and candies, they also have some small tartlets and cookies, including macaroons. I never had a real macaroon before and after learning more about them...I still haven't. There are two common types, but the real ones found in French patisseries are soft and light and look like this:
The macaroon I bought for myself looked like this:
It was dense and heavy and covered in a thick layer of dark chocolate. Because I was being sneaky, I had to eat it in the car before I got home. So I took a bite, and then another, and then another, and I still couldn't decide if I liked it or not. There wasn't much cookie left to make up my mind. But there was another factor here, as well: almonds. I have never in my life figured out if I like almond-flavored foods. I know, it's hard to be me, having these tortuous decisions in my head. And then, you know, NOT having a filter to NOT share these thoughts with people.
So anyways, yes, I finished the cookie. Sorry for the suspense. And I was content, having had a macaroon in my life. I could move on.
Or so I thought. Approximately 14 hours later, while staring out of my windows at work, I saw a macaroon pass by. And then another. It was a storm of macaroons! All covered in deep, dark, delicious chocolate with a satisfying chewiness, especially at the edges where the chocolate meets the almondyness of the cookie. Mmmmm...
I'M IN LOVE WITH MACAROONS.
And I hate them, too, because they're haunting me with their deliciousness. It might not seem so disturbing to want a cookie this badly, but just ask the cuban sandwiches. They know what my love REALLY means...
Why do you torture me with your tastiness?
For all my family all over the world, and especially my parents in China...time to welcome the pig.
While I was going down the escalators yesterday, a man got on the up escalator with his two kids behind him. His young boy didn't get on, though, because his shoelaces were untied and his sister wouldn't help. I had this overwhelming urge to tie his shoes for him when I reached the bottom, but I ran through these thoughts in succession:
- Don't smile at other people's kids (unless they want you to smile at them, like small, small babies).
- Don't touch other people's kids...ever. Ever.
- Don't touch other people's shoes...cause that's gross.
- Don't touch other people's kid's shoes...for your own sake cause who knows what kids do to themselves and their shoes.
That makes sense, right?
What doesn't make sense is:
- me giving tech support... (Okay, not that uncommon for me.)
- in French... (Why not? Just translate all the words literally, like mouse = souris.)
- to someone in France... (There are ID10T users all over the world, right?)
- for free. (WHAT?)
The nerve of some people... No, just kidding. It was bizarre, though, because I kept having to say "right-click" in the special French way and I can't get the phrase "make a click right" out of my head.
Maybe I should just make an exit left stage now.
During this year's Chick-Fil-A Bowl (née Peach Bowl), there was a commercial for a free stuffed cow to the first 150,000 people who signed up. I immediately got online and had one sent to my little brother who likes Chick-Fil-A sandwiches so much, it's almost obscene. They're good, but the problem with them is that I only crave them on Sundays when the restaurants aren't open. Nevermind, I see how that's my problem and not theirs.
Anyways, I wanted to surprise him. So a few weeks after the bowl game, I was talking to him, and being my clever and sneaky self, said, "I got you something." He got real inquisitive so I had to tell him. And he then started laughing and said, "You know what?"
"I got you one, too."
What characters we are...ha ha heh heh bleh. I had a point to all this...Oh yeah, I got it in the mail today and the cats have been smiling at it. I think they want to eat a lot of steak tonight. Or actually, "eat mor stake".
My lack of opposable digits should not prevent me from using this contraption.
Maybe my paws are too plump.
I see. Chins can control this device just as easily.
And I don't have to lift my head.
Ah, screw it. Time for a nap.
Thank you, Jonas, for demonstrating my usual day at the office.