13 Aug 2012
1. [requisite statement about lack of posting]
2. I am here to endorse a fast-food dessert that may or may not be available in your area. It is the fried lemon pie from Whataburger. At once, this $.99 pod of deliciousness hits several key gustatory high points:
–crunchiness (see also: fried)
–saltiness (crust is a bit buttery)
–creaminess (filling is gooey, not gelatinous)
–sweetness (duh, it’s a fried pie)
3. If you have one of those razors that has the little band of soothing gel or whatever on it, and you also live in an old house with the aggravating Window in the Shower (©1947), please take my advice and do not place your soothing gel razor on the windowsill. Because an extended family of ants will find a way in, and they will think soothing gel razors are delicious, and you will not have your glasses on and will not notice that they are hanging out inside your soothing gel razor until you use it on your armpit, and then you will have ANTS IN YOUR ARMPIT and will scream a little. (This will happen several times before you remember to put the soothing gel razor elsewhere.)
4. I recently read all three of Nora Ephron’s essay collections (Wallflower at the Orgy, Crazy Salad, and Scribble, Scribble) and while all are excellent, Crazy Salad: Some Things About Women had me pretty transfixed. It’s so incredibly modern, and yet the essays were all published between 72-75. There is the famous “A Few Words About Breasts,” which is famous for a reason, and there is a great essay about feminine deodorant spray (which is ridiculous, obviously, but was new then). The essay that really knocked my socks off (is there a dumber expression than that? I hesitated before typing it, but then thought “oh what the hell”) is the one about Deep Throat.
Nora Ephron aficionados know that she was married to Carl Bernstein, Watergate buster, and might think “oh I didn’t realize she wrote an essay about Deep Throat huh whatever,” except she is talking about the pornographic film. I thought it was fantastic that I learned about the plot of a famous porno from an essay written in February 1973. (Look, I like contemporary source material, ok?) All I knew what that there were a lot of blow jobs. What I didn’t know is that the whole conceit is that poor Linda has an unsatisfying sex life and goes to a doctor, who discovers that she’s aight, it’s cool, it’s just that her clitoris is in her throat. I think it is amazing that I lived 39 years on Earth, all concurrent with this movie existing, and did not know this.
5. The other night Spike drew a picture of some corn, like you do. Then he wanted to know how to spell corn. I told him, and he wrote the letters. “Do you want to write another word?” I asked. “Yes,” he said. “How do you spell bathroom?” Then he cracked up. In unrelated news, he calls question marks “mysteries.” I have no plans to correct him.
6. There are some weird and scary vines that have taken over my carport, and yesterday I had a window of time in which to chop them down, only I didn’t know where any garden shears were. Also I know nothing about plants and was concerned it was poison ivy. So I donned some yellow rubber gloves and, armed with some pinking shears, tore that shit UP.