evany's extended cake mix
(PS: My diary has officially moved over to my official evany.com website. Let's meet up over there!)
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Friday, Sept. 26, 2003 | link
I'm beginning to suspect that the way I do things isn't maybe the very best? Like this morning I discovered that I'd stored two crisp dollar bills in my trash can, right along with the used coffee grounds and pizza snups. And, I don't know, that just doesn't seem like the most optimal system?
Just now I went to lunch at this thai place in the neighborhood for some of the usual smile-worthy lemongrass chicken, but today the dish came with all these little sticks in it, really pointy and sharp, drastically underdone ginger perhaps? (Okay, readers are writing: it's actually lemongrass ... Though there were some real hunks of ginger, too, swear.) And rather than say anything, I discovered that I preferred to kind of eat around the random mini-skewers or, if one mistakenly made its way into my mouth, chew and chew and chew it between the sharpness of my front teeth until it was reduced to safe, small pieces.
It's not that I'm a particularly timid person -- I'm not afraid to fight for my right to party or anything like that. It's just that the prospect of flagging the waitress down and explaining what was up and making her roll one of the sticks between her fingers to verify the sub-edible stiffness of it and then go get the menu again so I could order something else, or worse have her take the dish back to the kitchen for a replay (CAR!), that was just so, so much more exhausting a prospect than simply lumping it. But now that I think on it, that probably isn't the greatest way to go about things.
But you know how sometimes people you love, really think are great, do things you think are supremely ridiculous, like loving burning mac or ordering things extra spicy or getting steaming mad at "traffic" or taking down their personal websites in a pique or ... eating sticks? And then sometimes the love you have for those people kind of rubs off on those dorky tics and you find yourself warming up to them, shaking your head and laughing and loving them, too, just the very predictability of them -- jesus christ, you're doing bong hits? Still? Hahaha, that is so ... man, that is just AWEsome!
As the items on my List of Intolerables slowly trickle over to my List of Awww!s, things are getting a little complicated. Since we rely upon our dislikes to define ourselves almost as much as the things we love, I'm finding it difficult to know what I'm up to anymore. Maybe all I'm about these days is laughing and enjoying and frankly admiring all of our ridiculousnesses? What am I, some kind of hippie clown now?