Present Imperfect

I'll Be Your Private Caller...

July 31, 2004

Someone our caller ID displayed only as "Private Caller" rang us at 3 this morning and again at 6:30. I was awake for the second phone call, so I picked it up. It went a little something like this:

Me: Hello?
Private Caller (a woman with a creepy, soft, sleepy voice): Oh, hi. It's me. I have had the weirdest night. It's so early. Do you hate me?
Me: Um, who is this?
Private Caller: It's me. Don't you know who this is?
Me: Nope. Sorry.
Private Caller (sounding rather hurt): You really don't know who this is?
Me: I really don't.
Private Caller (sounding genuinely wounded): It's Heather.
Me: I think you have the wrong number*
Private Caller (very soft indeed now): Oh. (breathy pause) Sorry.

*We all say this in a wrong-number situation when what we really mean is "I know beyond a shadow of a doubt you have the wrong number, Heather. I'm sorry you had a weird night and I'm sorry whomever you were trying to seduce with what you've practiced as your tired/sexy voice either gave you a fake number that turned out to be mine or was just too drunk the morning after to write hers down correctly, but it's 6:30 in the morning on a Saturday and not even a wicked hangover should lead you to believe that calling anyone that early is socially acceptable." But hey, I like to keep things colloquial.

Happy Marine Day!

July 20, 2004

Today is Marine Day in Japan! I learned this from the page-a-day cat calendar my mother gave me for Christmas last year. My mother enjoys giving me cat-related paraphernalia, despite the fact that I have told her repeatedly I don't need cat gewgaws when I have two real-live cats to remind me of...cats. Whenever I want. And sometimes when I do not.

Anyway, back to Marine Day. Apparently, this holiday is only seven years old and was added to the calendar because July was the only month without a national holiday in it. (Why can't our government be so forward thinking? Every month should have a holiday in it, dammit! In fact, make it two and call me a cab.) You can read all about Marine Day here, as well as about how "maru" is a word added to the name of any Japanese ship, which, for Star Trek fans, either explains or completely obscures the precise meaning behind Kobayashi Maru. Because, as far as I can tell, "maru" means "ship" but "kobayashi" is the name of Japan's world-renowned hot-dog eating champion. Any help on this one?

(As a side note, I once suggested to my now ex-stepfather that he rechristen his sailboat, which he had recently plowed into a drawbridge, the Kobayashi Maru. He declined.)

So what does all this have to do with the Green Man (above)? Nothing, except I saw this picture in an NYT article on how tourists are trekking to Rosslyn Chapel in Scotland hoping to find the Holy Grail because of The Da Vinci Code, which I hereby predict I shall never read.

Also, I have always found his greeness compelling and even a little sexy...um, you know, in a naughty, pagan, Britt Eklund throwing her nekkid self around in The Wicker Man kinda way.

The Joke

July 15, 2004

In the interest of blogging without thinking, today I would like to share The Funniest Joke Ever, sent to me all the way from Scotland via friend Graham. Because I am lazy, the grammar has not been Americanized (or Americanised, if you will).

Enjoy.

A barman is starting his shift one evening. The bar contains the usual regulars, however, sat at the corner of the bar is a stranger. As the stranger is nursing a full pint, the barman doesn't pay that much attention to him and carries on with his work.

After half an hour or so, the stranger catches the barman's attention and beckons him over. The stranger orders a pint for himself and "whatever the rest of the bar is having". At this point, the barman notices that half of the stranger's face has a strange complexion, not dissimilar to orange peel. It also has an unusual colour, which, due to the poor lighting in the bar, appears to be dark orange.

The barman gives the stranger his pint, and pours drinks for everyone else in the place. The price of the round comes to £83.17, which the stranger happily pays. A few of the regulars come over to thank the stranger for their drinks. He reciprocates in the small talk, but after a while the men all float back to their own tables, leaving the women hanging on the stranger's every word and flirting outrageously with him.

After half an hour, the stranger beckons the barman over and orders a pint for himself, and again a drink for everyone else in the bar. This continues all night, with the stranger buying drinks for everyone else in the place every half an hour or so.

At the last bell, the stranger orders a double round for everyone. After finishing their drinks, the rest of the punters all head for home, and only the stranger and the barman are left in the bar. The barman says to the stranger, "that was incredibly kind of you to buy everyone a drink. I couldn't help but notice that half of your face is different from the other. If you don't mind me asking, how did your face come to look like that?"

The stranger smiles ruefully and sighs, "It's a long story, mate..."

"That's OK", says the barman, "I'm just tidying up here and will be a while yet. I'd be really interested to find out".

The stranger takes a deep breath. "Well, it all started fifteen years ago when my mother died. I had to clear out her house following the funeral, and as I was clearing the attic I came a cross a small, brass lamp. It was in dire need of a polish, so I gave it a rub with my hankie and suddenly a genie appeared".

The barman, fearing he's in for a bit of a tall tale, sarcastically says, "Oh, and I suppose he gave you three wishes..."

"Correct", says the stranger. "My first wish was that no matter how much money I took out of my wallet, it would always be full of cash. Hence why I was able to buy drinks all night. My second wish was that members of the opposite sex would find me irresistible."

The barman, by now realising that the stranger's tale might actually be true, given the way that he was throwing cash around and the way women were hanging around him all night, clears his throat and asks, "and what was your third wish?"

The stranger drains his glass, "I wanted half my face to look like an orange..."

Christina Crawford's Nissan

July 09, 2004

I am loath to talk about my morning commute, since it's rather boring (even at the helm of the Lapin Agile) and it only lasts 5 miles each way. But today I saw something that positively begs to be blogged.

As I was getting off the 101 North, I landed behind a teal (Remember teal? My stepsister's 1986 senior prom dress was teal!) Altima with three pro-life bumper stickers on it: "Life Is Not A Choice, It's a Gift!", "Choose Life: Your Baby Would" and, rather cryptically, "Can't Find Jesus? Look for His Mother!"

But before I could completely register this display, I noticed that the woman driving the car had (I assume) inadvertently left a wire coat hanger behind the back seat, clearly visible through the rear windshield.

Nice.

The World Next Door

July 07, 2004

Eric and I spent a patriotic Fourth of July weekend in Canada. What did we learn?

1. Vancouver is a beautiful city with the second-best park in North America. (Sorry, but I still like Central Park in June...how 'bout yoooooou?)

2. Despite its beauty, Vancouver is also host to what seems like the largest per-capita population of crazy heroin addicts. Seriously. Unlike, say, San Francisco, where the crazy heroin addicts are either concentrated in one easily avoidable neighborhood or scattered in ones and twos throughout the city, Vancouver features scores of them staggering around between point A (where you are) and point B (where you are going). Walking the four blocks from Gastown (boo!) to Chinatown (classical Chinese garden=yay! Night market=boo!) was like a junky obstacle course. Also, in my admittedly limited experience, Vancouver has the best self-talkers. Case in point, the gentleman who wandered around shouting the following to nobody in particular: "My son, the light of Jupiter, will NEVER be born human! He will be born an ANGEL!"

3. You should not take the ferry from Vancouver to Victoria. You have to get on a crappy tour bus and it takes three hours, whereas the same trip from Seattle takes about half the time and you go from city center to city center.

4. Speaking of Victoria, we did not wind up having tea at the Empress Hotel. We were told that this was a Disneyland-esque experience, but we made reservations anyway because of our deep, abiding love of afternoon tea, only to balk at the long lines of shorts-wearing, video camera-toting, visor-wearing visitors being corralled unceremoniously into the tea room. Instead, we went to the Blue Fox Cafe (based on a recommendation from Our Favorite Waiter in L.A.), which was pretty good.

5. Flying to Canada is dumb. Between the bastard people at the Harmony Airlines desk at LAX who made us check our bags (which we NEVER have to check; we purchased them specifically because they comply to practically everybody's carry-on guidelines...everybody, that is, except Harmony Airways out of LAX) to the bastard people at Vancouver airport who took Eric's can of spray starch away (What? He likes to iron.), never mind the customs forms and passport checks, it was probably much more trouble than flying to Seattle and catching a ferry. This time, it just happened to be the cheapest option. Next time, by golly, we're crossing the border by boat.

6. I need a new digital camera. After taking a handful of pictures, one of an unintentionally funny song display on our iPod, three of a sailboat called the "Bilbo B" and four of wee train dioramas, the thing locked up and started sputtering out strange error messages. Now the lens won't retract and no amount of angry button-pushing or dial-turning fixes it. The majesty of the Pacific Northwest must remain only in my memory, as I have no photographic evidence of visiting it. Sigh.