because we wanted to do something....

[knocking on third floor window]

L: [they beckon her in] We're lighitng paper airplanes on fire and trying to fly them across the street.

[denizens of apartment #8]: sweet

...they didn't go too far. but it was awesome. the blunt-nosed one went further than the futuristic fighter jet. Engineers, anyone? Help us out!

A.M. at the 401-1

L: How do you like your pancakes?

A: [confounded] ...cooked? ... warm?

L: Is it ok if they're vegan? And chocolate? ... and if they have whole-wheat stoneground flour in them?

L:[10 minutes later] Would you open the applesauce jar for me?

A: [with ease] Some feminist.

Memorial Day and No Alcohol in Sight

Theoretically, I was supposed to be drunk 3 hours ago. I'm not. This is problematic because this is an ENFORCED DAY OFF and it is not cool. I should have made $40 + tips, but NO. I should have been able to update e-mail lists and sync them. I should have been wealthier by the end of today. So if there is no work, then there must be alcohol. Here there be booze, that kind of thing. I wanted to MAKE MONEY, not spend money. Now I sound like an alcoholic. Guess it depends on the definition.

Iron Chef Campfire is in two weeks. I suppose I should start figuring out how to make something ridiculous and posh involving cherry tomatoes, eggplants, and roasted red peppers on skewers that are 3.5ft long.

Is posh a hipster word? I was called out for hipster vocab last night -- tragic and posh were among the words cited. A cocktail party last night involved scallops wrapped in bacon. Among other tasty things... I <3 Melanie and Laurent, in all sorts of ways. Everyone present could also speak French [ and was, intermittently], and we were listening to mambo-rhythm-corrupted pieces from the classical music canon. Made me want to throw a proper cocktail party.

This nautical theme for posts wears thin...

However, the novelty was such that I couldn't resist. After ninja_turbo announced that he would be spending the summer getting in touch with his pirate side, and I started working for a boss that used to be a pirate (not joking!) who said, "Arrrr" to punctuate points and articulate...

The piracy seemed immediate. That and Pirates of the Caribbean is reaching theaters soon-ish. Ev. and I also spent a piratical evening, driving through indiana-beautiful and reaching the cut-outs for the sheer glory of creating fire and then destroying it. Ahhhhhh. That and to hear the waves hit the shore and watch the sunset. It was perfect.

Since this heat is killing me, I suppose I'm not much of a pirate. I doubt though, that pollen counts are high out on the high seas. Maybe I should be a pirate as well as a city-dweller in real life; both are areas where green and growing and flowering things are well kept and contained. *sniffles* My roomie and I are both incapacitated, downing Yogi Teas "Breathe Easy" tea and filling tissues and bemoaning the failure of our immune systems and our low-grade fevers as our immune systems batter against thousands of pollen morsels (and mountains of cat fur, damn you, Sir Tigger)

Sir Tigger got a bath, but that seemed only to increase the amount of floating cat fur. I do not know how he has so much! It befuddles me. Then again, his prior mom's hairbrush was soft bristle and all about caressing, no wire-comb-hair-removal device in sight. Alas. Doomed to dander on top of the pollen-count.

*miserates* *coughs* *swallows more mucous* *drinks tea* *wishes she was dead*

Pirates Need Good Mateys, Yo! (and hotwenches.erm.)

Of late, Pirate Lina had discovered that one of her mateys wasn't treating her right. As an proper pirate though, she only realized this after two weeks of drinking herself to sleep at night. (Not grog; actually Crane Lake Petit Sirah is the preferred way of doing it.) Towards the end of the two weeks she realized she didn't remember her last sober evening, and wondered why.

After some serious introspection and analysis, she found that pretty hipster bfa sweetheart was secretly and brilliantly making her miserable. So, she did the socially responsible thing and asked him to stop. She gave him a trial-period. He failed it. So, at the urging of her other mateys:
L: "But when it's good, it's so good."
J: "So's cocaine."

G: (advising from France!)
"A man can be happy with any woman as long as he does not love her." [citing Oscar Wilde]
She rang him and communicated that since he couldn't treat her as a proper wench, she was going to call it quits.
[insert reference to Brokeback here]

Showing up at a popular pirate haunt in town on Friday night, [henceforth to be called "The Squid"], she thought she had taken the cake, flaunting his pin-striped pants with fabulous creases. [Plus, the ultimate pirate shoe - Chakos!] [And the Oh Boy! tshirt couresty of lecornichonmai.] Only to discover that he had beaten her to the punch:

L to R and C: Plus, I'm totally wearing his pants! See! I do want to keep them.
C: But he's wearing your shirt!
L: Wha?
[turns around]
stage direction in italics: up walks E. with the general k. carrying junk food from the Black Market, wearing the perfect raspberry colored pirate shirt with incredible cuffs and cut-long-tunic-length
L: [shocked stare] [eats peach gummy circles]
R and C: [cat in cream grins]

MIA: One Pirate Cat

My pirate cat is MIA: someone is feeding her more expensive food than I am, I know it. So if you're in the area and you've seen a pretty little brown/black tabby with white stockings and a red collar living it up east of campus, do let me know.

Sir Oliver Skitten (Skitty, Ollie, Sir) [horrible cat. terror. cuteincarnate.] has been gone since the evening of May 13 (Saturday). She darted about four days before her tags arrived, tired of being quarantined indoors. Now I have tags, a harness, and fresh kitty litter, but no kitty.

Most distressing. I'm like a pirate without her parrot. She was my ultimate minion. Plus, she beats up all the other cats in the neighborhood, in spite of her tiny-ness.

You can see her on flickr --
www.flickr.com/photos/lemaipictures/
and see her kitten self at
www.flickr.com/photos/sir_oliver_skitten

Admittedly, I am temporarily housing Sir Almadeus Tigger the Second, which makes up for it, for he is a lover. He sits like a man and fights like a pro. He also drinks water with his paws, leaving my bedroom carpet moist and vile. He is meant for my mumsies though, so he's merely passing through the apartment, leaving marmalade-colored fur everywhere.

bienvenu, quoi.

I believe the time has come. That and Mr. Brett has been pestering. Now that I'm all "grown-up" it's time for a real, grown-up blog. LJ will still be close to my heart and used for drama and etc. but for the rest of these posts, especially for all the food-tastic-food Jen and I and co. make, this will be perfect-use-able.

Now I can also bond with other bloggers in their own public sphere of intranets space. Woot! And do exceedingly dorky things like post my papers when they're all beeeyoootiful and perfected. Look forward to posts about coffee, human rights, mono-culture and postcolonialism, and of course my fav--feminisim. *sighs* Laissez les bonnes temps roulez, quoi.