good circulation is overrated

ganesh can hold his smoke

hey, i'm human, just like you. when i am cut, i bleed... sort of... eventually... minimally.

late this afternoon, as i, still in my bathrobe, was cutting an avocado to make myself a little veggie sam'itch, sliced my left index finger.

it hurt and i gasped, but then looked at it and could see the perfect, deep incision clearly. no blood. after about ten or fifteen seconds, as someone who getting over a fear of blood, i instinctually grasped my finger tightly to keep it from... well, bleeding.

after unsuccessfully trying to construct my food whilst holding my finger tightly, i let go. the wound [hate that word] did eventually bleed a very small bit mid-munch, but not as much as you might expect.

i guess being a hemophobe and a raynaud's suffer at the same time works. it's two higher powers were stoned and deciding how to put me together. envision two dudes with long white beards and flowing robes toking up in someone's rec room, the dead playing on an old record player, black-light posters on the wall [this was '72]:

"okay [cough], we're going to make this one... afraid of blood."

"alright, that's heavy. but dude, give this bird a break... and pass a brother the joint."

"come on, man. [passes the spliff] wait-wait-wait, check this out: she'll be afraid of blood... but not be able to bleed! [stoned giggle] groovy! "

"whoa... [takes a drag] that is heavy, man."

c'est crazy-month!

yeah, i know...

haven't posted in a while. this is my crazy-month, full of local travel and long weekends in orlando. sound glamorous? it sure is if unshowered, greasy hair and unbrushed, coffee-mouth teeth tickle your fancy. mmmm, wanna make out? when i get into a hotel room with a full length door mirror [you can get up really close with those], i can truly reap the rewards of my lack of grooming focus. break out the tweezers and comedo-extractor -- phanero-time! it really is one of the most exciting times of year for me [not just for all the fun eyebrow-plucking and blackhead-mashing] but also the very most exhausting.

crazy-month sounds like some made-up holiday celebrated at club med, maybe where all the men dress in pink tutus and dance the "haut-les-mains/hands up" dance. i wish, right?

fortunately, our second floor has been virtually complete, great for when i come home like a whupped little puppy. all that we are missing construction-wise is the counter, sink, and mirror to the new bathroom. i have my very own office again with a window view, and our bedroom is a beautiful, soothing beige sanctuary. it makes sleeping in so damn tempting.


here's the tour:


this is our dope new shower.


...and this is our snazzy toto. we dig it.


this is the little bedroom with happy little skylight. great for guests and eventually progeny.



...and this is the view from my office down through the master bedroom. the ductwork was included to remind me of my second favorite place in the galaxy, chipotle.



new and improved master bedroom, now with surround-sound. heaven.

grocery store snob

i like to think of myself as a pretty down-to-earth, unpretentious person. i endeavor not to be classist or a label whore and i think that, by and large, i'm doing an okay job: i buy almost all my clothes on clearance or even at thrift stores, 90% of my makeup is from walgreens, and i'm not one to let open-seating policies scare me away from flying certain airlines. there is one niggling hangup i do have: grocery stores.

i am the worst grocery store snob of all time. i'm frankly ashamed and wish i'd just get over it, but time and time again, i leave jewel and dominick's with my greek blood boiling over, vowing never to return.

what fills me with such annoyance? lemme tell ya:

produce: the produce always blows. for conventionally-grown fruits and vegetables, everything is really shriveled, over-ripe and beat-up. there's often little to choose from. where are the fresh herbs and heirloom tomatoes? how can you unconscionable hucksters sell raspberries with friggin' mold on them?!

bakery: the bakery areas make me zook. the bins at the jewel i went to yesterday were so filthy. my fear of roaches almost deterred me from snagging the last two hoagie rolls from their crumb-smeared plexiglas bin. ew.

aisles: the stores are just too damned big! too many aisles of too much garbage i don't want! the signs overhead never accurately indicate what variety of garbage one might find. those places with the aisle bisecting the aisles crosswise have the worst feng shui ever -- there's no good chi flow through so everyone wanders around willy-nilly, banging carts, yanking lost children by the arm, and giving each other irritated looks.

musak: at the store i like, i can bop through the aisles rocking out to uninterrupted 80s flashback medleys, 90s mixes, or oldies from the 60s. no constant yammering of pre-recorded advertisements. no unintelligible squawking of the cashiers needing a price check. just music. ahhhh...

too much lunchables, not enough cumin: in this largely latino-hispanic city, what friggin' store sells four lines of spices but no fuggin' ground cumin?! come on already, you amateurs!

getting guff about my bags: i have a collection of canvas grocery bags i use, not only because they are better for the environment, but because they can accommodate more groceries and be carried by little me much easier. when my bags come coasting down the register conveyor belt, the cashier and baggers get perplexed as all get out. do they put bags in the canvas ones? am i buying them? are they on candid camera? forget about the mesh produce bags i use -- asking the cashier to enter a tare weight of .06 when weighing your broccoli will get you a cap busted in your ass.

i try to make sure at the store i like i buy their line of products and i save money there. i try, dammit! in the end, logging in hours at the market next to polite yuppies and crunchy jerries, never smelling the stench of urine from bums in the breezeways is worth a few extra ducats.