How NOT to defrost a freezer, Part the Second

  1. Barefoot
  2. Without gloves
  3. Without a bucket
  4. Without a heavy-duty sponge
  5. With the stubborn, disdainful attitude that you don’t need no stinkin’ hair dryer, you can chip off all that ice with SHEER FORCE!

Defrosting a freezer is a lot like washing dishes, or washing a car: you’re proactively doing something, but it leaves you with a lot of time to be alone with your thoughts. And my thoughts and I at present have about as cooperative a relationship as the gingham dog and the calico cat.

Also, because I’ve been on a Windows PC while Kipper is (seriously, for what had SO better be the last time) in the shop getting his 5-month-overdue optical drive reinserted, and because I don’t feel like utilising the Password Manager on this computer and thereby keep clicking the "Not Now" option, I’ve had "Goodbye Love" from "Rent" stuck in my head repeatedly.

And to make a tidy trilogy of non-related items, I don’t like cantaloupe ice cream, but I like cantaloupe *with* ice cream. Same goes for most fruits, actually.


How NOT to defrost a freezer

Busy yourself in other things and lie low until the person who initially thought up the idea of defrosting the freezer, forgets entirely about it.

In the end, maybe Jewel was right, though

I was startled the other day to realize how easily I’d managed to forget about two guys with whom I’d briefly been involved way back when. The Dubliner was from my last year of college and I met him through work, and he had the sweetest sense of humor (and a smile to match) and lovely light and laughing blue eyes and his taste in music could be called wonderful, if you were 75.

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I’m blaming it all on the glasses, which in turn I blame on my CONTACTS

I’m also blaming it on Vegas. If only because I was too lazy to scroll down through the categories menu, settled on this, and now need to justify such a choice.

My elbow hurts, people.

"But why?" you ask in that inquisitive asking way of yours that renders me helpless to do anything other than answer.

My elbow hurts because gravity works and the universe doesn’t like people who think they’re too good for effing non-slip mats in the bathtub, people who will see such a mat draped over the side of the tub before taking a shower and who roll their eyes at such a tacky monstrosity, because really, how uncoordinated do you have to be to require such a thing?

My elbow also hurts because apparently, the towel bar is getting crotchety in its old age and FLIPS OUT when one-hundred- …something… (::cough::) pounds of weight is suddenly thrust upon it. It does this by promptly jumping ship and falling to the floor. Goddamn towel bar.

The bruises on both my knees? Same explanation. I’ll be wearing jeans the rest of this weekend.

And then yesterday just sort of seeped into today

…so that today just feels like an extension of yesterday. Which, in many ways, it really is.

What I mean to say is, I wasn’t able to sleep at all last night. Granted, I only tried for maybe 20 minutes, and "trying" didn’t actually involve climbing into bed and closing my eyes and trying to get my brain to shut up, but something more like thinking occasionally, "Hey, it’s really late and I have an assload of things to get done on Thursday, maybe I should rustle me some shut-eye," and then getting distracted. By. Um. Things.

I feel bad because I’m bailing on dance tonight. I just can’t do it. Too much stress, too much sadness, too many nights of being unable to sleep, the week-plus-long-cold that is still stubbornly hanging on by a few fingers, too many demands I’ve enforced upon myself– then failed to meet, causing self-enforced guilt-trips.

I am not a machine. And even if I were– even machines break down from time to time. Overheating, system failure, not enough memory, corrupt data. Et cetera.

And yet, aside from the Very Sorrowful Thing That Happened (which I irrationally find I cannot identify by name in this moment), I’ve had a good August. I had a great day yesterday. And I had an extremely pleasant day today, meeting with and talking to extremely pleasant people at an extremely charming company who hopefully did not notice to any surmountable degree the extremely irritating fact that my LEFT EYE HAS FOR NO GOOD REASON A STUPID AND INESCAPABLE TIC, and the weather was lovely and I saw three different kinds of butterflies and a big bad spider busy at work weaving its web.

And I’m starting to fall over to the side and it’s really hard to type with my arms twisted up at such an angle while my the side of my face tries desperately to take root in the carpet, so I’m just going to give in and go to bed. Big Bad Day of Driving tomorrow morning.


I was a biorhythmic rock star today

Reasons why today was GREAT:

  1. I got to wake up in my sleep-compatible squish-flump happy happy bed
  2. Without the backache I had last night
  3. I still have two bags of frozen grapes in my freezer. Hello, breakfast!
  4. My plants seem to have not noticed that I left them for over a week without water. To the point where I suspiciously wondered if someone had broken into the place, saw them all wilted and pathetic, took pity on them and watered them before making off with… nothing, apparently. Maybe there’s a Dehydrated Plant Intervention community out here, I dunno.
  5. The sales consultant at the Cingular off Qualcomm was fantastic. FANTASTIC. His name is John Cheshier, and he actually knows his shit when it comes to mobile phones, and mobile phone technology, and mobile phone competitors, and… and… stuff. Mobile stuff. He goes to seminars and workshops and the like, where he stays updated on the newest mobile, um, stuff. And he’s quiet and unintrusive and not-pushy, and he made a very nice comment regarding the stability of Verizon’s network (personally, I wrinkle my nose at anything not GSM, but I guess if you never have any plans to venture outside of this country, CDMA or the Sprint network would make sense).
  6. (Seriously? If you live in San Diego and need anything Cingular-related done, I enthusiastically encourage you to go through him. It’s hard enough to find Cingular people who are friendly OR knowledgeable… to find one person who’s BOTH? Needle in a haystack, my friends.)
  7. The BBQ House next to Belmont Park ran out of hummus right before I got there, but I really wanted my falafel so I just shrugged and said that was fine, so the cashier didn’t charge me the full menu price.
  8. I went to Trader Joe’s to get my own damn hummus, and discovered these really great frozen fruit juice bar things called Fruit Floes. I bought the Caribbean flavor (strawberry, pineapple, mango, passion fruit, coconut flakes). They’re little pieces of heaven on a stick, at 4/$1.87. Mmm.
  9. My cashier at TJs was super friendly. So I super-friendly-y inquired about the roll of stickers by the register and asked what they were for, and he said they were for people who like stickers, usually kids but not always. And then he asked if I liked stickers, and I said why yes, I do! So he gave me a long strip of stickers. Yay, free stickers!
  10. My parking karma was spot-on all day: Belmont Park, Mission Valley, Hillcrest– and downtown. I was dreading going home because it was 6:30 by the time I got on the 163 South and the Padres (vs. Dodgers) game started at 7:00. So of course it was a lurching stop-and-go drive the whole way. But I get into my garage, and right on the second level, not too far from the stairs– is an open spot! King of kings!
  11. Also, my transponder ACTUALLY WORKED with the main entrance. It never works with that entrance (another reason I hate games– they close off all the other entrances except that one during games), and I always end up swearing profusely, backing up (if possible), and getting a damn ticket from the machine to activate the lever. Supposedly I need to turn in those tickets and just explain that I’m a 24/7 monthly and the attendant makes a note on the back and I go on my merry way, but I just throw them away. Or let them collect under the clip on the passenger sun visor.
  12. Bri and I made plans to have a late breakfast tomorrow, which will be the perfect way to start tomorrow off.
  13. Speaking of tomorrow: Zambeedo is going to be at the Mission Valley Costco again. Which means I’ll be there again. To buy more ice cream. Because it’s little pieces of heaven, in a carton. No stick required!
  14. And finally, the best and biggest reason why today is a good, good day: it’s my moozie’s [1] birthday! She was still in Honolulu today, but she and my grandfather left for Las Vegas late tonight and will arrive home early Thursday, and I’m sure all her friends have plenty of shenanigan celebrating planned for her.

[1] For the non-bookworm-children, moozie = mommy. I’ll petition for your immediate admission into the Speed Racers League of Awesomeness [2] if you know, or can find, the origin of "Moozie" [3]. Or maybe I’ll just bake you some Very Special Baked Goods and mail them to you.
[2] And extra super bonus brownie points if you know the origin of *that* reference.
[3] Actually pretty hard to find on the Internet. I checked. Hint: it has nothing to do with cows.

Not… dead yet?

So "god" left a comment on my last post, wherein I detail the onset of a very sucky cold that, one week later, I’m still fighting:

hi. miss you as always. 🙂

I can only interpret this in two ways:

  1. I previously died briefly (maybe in my sleep?), met god, we had a lovely chat about various topics, but then I suddenly returned to the earth and now god misses my sweet conversation and witty banter.
  2. This is god’s way of guilt-tripping me into going back to church. Or praying again. Neither of which I ever did on a regular basis to begin with.

The possibility of (1) being the actual situation somewhat worries me, if only because of the content of the post itself. It’s only a COLD, god. People don’t die from colds. Don’t get your hopes up.

And anyway, I think it was sufficiently established long ago that I am going straight to hell.

I still have the cold. But I feel better. Most of the time.

[Wednesday, 16 August 2006]

02:21. Snorrrrghk. Snuffft. Wheeze. Gack.

02:22. I cadt brede. Fugk. Sdoopid doze. I cadt brede adh I cadt zlepe. By doze hurdts. By libp veels all raw ad zore. Bade. BADE. OWWW.

02:24. [stumble into bathroom. rifle through drawers looking for lip balm or hydrocortisone.]

02:25. [discover small bottle of Vicks Vapor Rub on top shelf of medicine cabinet. I had no idea I owned Vicks Vapor Rub and can only presume that it was moved over here from Camarillo, and probably it’s older than I am. there’s a thick layer of dust on the cap.]

02:26. [rinse off cap, open bottle. looks like its never been used. groggily and momentarily confuse Vicks Vapor Rub with Vaseline and am tempted to slather my entire face with the stuff. regroup my thoughts and apply in small dabs to the top of my lip.]

02:27. [read label: "something something aids in decongesting something something blah." scoff.]

02:28. Hey… hey! I can breathe! Wow! The stuff actually works! This is great! Who knew??

I should take this with me. Except, shit. They won’t let me take it on the plane. Oh well, at least it’s working for now. Ooh. maybe I can squeeze in a quick nap before I have to leave for the airport. This menthol stuff is all tingly… pretty cool!


02:34. Ow. Ow, pain. Owwww, oh, the pain, oh, the fire, oh, the burning, oh, no way in hell am I taking this stuff with me.

02:39. Either this stuff really is a miracle or my face has just finally gone numb from the hellish pain. Left nostril: 75% recongested. Right nostril: still 100% clear. Good enough.

02:54. Yeah, may as well throw it into my suitcase. Just in case.

  • Total amount of sleep amassed: 00:00
  • Number of tissues grabbed last-second and stuffed into carry-on: 15
  • Level of intensity of wooziness and about-to-fall-over-ness, on a scale of one to a bajillion: 27 bajillion
  • Phone chargers remembered to pack: none
  • Bags of toiletries conveniently forgotten in the downstairs bathroom containing all necessary supplies including hair accessories: FUCK ALL.

Brief heads-up

So my maternal grandmother passed away last Thursday, less than 24 hours after I left Honolulu and returned to the mainland. Meaning I got to spend time with her nearly to the end and my mother made it back in time.

I haven’t really been talking about it. Mostly for everyone else’s sake. But for what it’s worth, it’s the main reason why posting has been sporadic lately.

The funeral is tomorrow (today? I’m still adjusting to the time difference) and I think I head back to Las Vegas Sunday night, arriving Monday morning, then go back to San Diego on Tuesday, then back to Las Vegas one or two days later, then back again to San Diego by the end of the week. Something like that.

Also, I’m pathetically (but legitimately, after all) sick. So, yay.

Celebrate each moment of life and each instance of love, and cherish each breath you can take without hacking up a lung or sneezing five times in a row.

Restaurants: Thai Room

Beyond the Strip, Las Vegas doesn’t have much that every other major city doesn’t also have. Nearly everything is a chain, which is nice in terms of reliability but crappy in terms of unique worth. On the one hand, I do appreciate the fact that when I’m craving Sedona Tortilla Soup or a buttermilk spice muffin, regardless of whether I’m in San Diego or Vegas or Some Other Major City, there’s a CPK or a Mimi’s nearby and I can satisfy my palate.

On the other hand, my insatiable curiosity and demand for attributing unique identites to geographical locations get singularly bored by chains remarkably quickly.

To make my point, and make it quickly: I love finding (or, more appropriately passively, being introduced to) places like the Thai Room.

Having eaten at some super fabulous (and accordingly pricey) Thai restaurants back in SD, I’m now something of a Thai food snob and won’t tolerate anything sub-par for this cuisine. I didn’t realize this until I wound up at King & I with my parents some months back, sulkily poking around "food" on my plate, "food" which I refused to acknowledge as edible.

I’ll be honest: Thai Room is deceptively fantastic, with heavy emphasis on "deceptively." The menu is less than impressive, in both its appearance (old and "updated" by way of marker scribblings) and its offerings. My overall love for Thai food stems from the ever-prolific presence of tofu and vegetarian options; the Thai Room menu doesn’t mention tofu once, and everything is, by default, chicken or beef or seafood.

My girlfriend had heartily recommended the place, though, and as she’s one of the pickiest eaters I know, that counted for a lot. So I waited until our server (who is probably also the owner, or one of them) came to take our order, then inquired about substituting tofu in any of the dishes. He brightly assured me that they could make anything with tofu, so I got a mild yellow curry with potatoes and bamboo shoots and tofu, and Heather got pad see-ew with chicken.

The (free!) appetizers there are carrot slivers served with a peanut paste that is to die for, and I shamelessly asked if I could *order* another helping, but our server just kind of laughed and said it was no problem, then promptly brought us a second (free!) plate. So, you know. Yum. Lots of yum.

And the curry was fabulous and the tofu was perfect and the bamboo shoots were addictive, and I sampled the pad see-ew and never let it be said that they don’t know how to cook them some good noodle dishes.

It’s not the fanciest of restaurants (actually, it’s not fancy at all and sort of borders on kitschy, or at least as kitschy as a Thai place can get) but the service and food are excellent. According to Heather, they’ll make just about anything and when she and her boyfriend took her boyfriend’s family there, the family ordered *everything* off-menu. Which is pretty damn awesome.

Bottom line: Local Vegas Thai-food fans need to keep these people in business while I’m not in town. Else I shall throw you all dirty looks upon hearing of their closure.

Extra bottom line: See if you can get them to start serving sticky rice with mango. They supposedly have the sticky rice, but no mango, but let’s face it: it’s not the same without the mango. So, done. You have your orders. Go!