Wednesday, March 16, 2005

La valse a mille temps...

I finally bought a Jacques Brel album. Just for the pleasure of listening to one of the best songs ever written over and over again.
"et Paris qui bat la mesure, Paris qui mesure notre emoi, et Paris qui bat la mesure, laisse enfin eclater sa joie..."
What other city does that?

They're changing the guard at Buckingham Palace

Christopher Robin went down with Alice.
Alice is marrying one of the Guard.
"A soldier's life is terribly hard,"
said Alice.

In a few weeks I'll be out of a job, out of an apartment. It's ok, but kind of loose-footed in a way that makes me nervous.
Superfirm doesn't want to transfer me to their LA office. They say it's a numbers issue, but I think it might be that they don't really like me.
I realize of late that my blog has degenerated into trite nonsense. So here's some political analysis in 30 seconds or less:
New bankruptcy law: rubbish.
Social Security reform: crap, but it's not going to happen.
Systematic looting after the fall of Baghdad: may bolster the original argument that Saddam had WMD, but makes us look uber-silly for not guarding obvious weapons warehouses. So a draw, really.
Administrative agencies producing fake "news reports" and local news shows airing them without crediting the government: Ummm... Big Brother, anyone? Superplusnogood.
Democracy in the Middle East: Don't get your hopes up. Lebanon has more experience with parliamentary-style government than most middle eastern countries; even so, there were as many pro-Syrian demonstrators as there were anti. So shut up, Economist.

Can't think of any more current events. But because I don't want to do my work, here are some "Best of" superlatives for your reading pleasure:

Best tea: Earl Grey
Best vegetable: snowpea
Best nut: walnut (although I can't digest them)
Best Asian cuisine: Vietnamese
Best Salman Rushdie book: Midnight's Children
Best supermarket aisle: dry goods/soup/canned veggies
Best city in Europe: Amsterdam
Best dirty expression in French: Ca me bourre le cul
Best stupid TV show: The OC (oh yeah, baby)
Best clever TV show: Arrested Development
Best political satire TV show: obviously, the Daily Show (although I do admit to liking Bill Maher)
Best edible raw flesh: steak tartare
Best red wine-making province: Chateauneuf du Pape (I know, but it's true)
Best fondue: Chinese
Best (hottest) American mayor: the Mayor of San Francisco (can't think of his name)
Best (hottest) prime minister of any country: Jose-Luis Rodriguez Zapatero (smokin red hot)
Best national flag: Brazil's (what is that random blue planet? it's so wacky).
Best Merchant/Ivory movie: A Room with a View
Best Hitchcock movie: Notorious
Best Monty Python movie: The Meaning of Life

I'll add to this as I think of more.

Monday, March 14, 2005

The Left Coast

We're moving to LA. If anyone reads this that is reasonably familiar with that dirty paradise by the sea, give me pointers on- neighborhoods, favorite restaurants, quirky things to do, etc.

Thursday, March 10, 2005

I'm so giving. Posted by Hello

Check it

Won't somebody support our troops??? Please, please, you hard-hearted liberals, SUPPORT OUR TROOPS!!! For christ's sake.

Tuesday, March 01, 2005

Tuesday's lament

In which I debrief all readers on the state of my stomach. Ladies and gentlemen, the state of my stomach is... crap. I've had stomach issues for years but it seems that my stint at Superfirm has finally transformed what was the functioning centerpiece of my gastro-intestinal tract into an agitating digestive pugilist. I can't eat anything. It's been bad for a few weeks but I'm now at the point where I can barely eat a bowl of watery campbell's chicken soup without writhing in agony for hours afterward. This is beyond pepto, ladies and gentlemen. This is war. My tummy has officially joined the Axis of Evil.
Yes, yes, I know I need to see the doctor. Thing is, I HAVE seen him. I've seen him dozens of times. I've had tubes and cameras stuck up and down various canals and orifices. And at the end of all this agonizing examining, here is what he tells me:
"Noisette, you have stomach problems. You have to stop eating spicy and acidic foods. You have to stop drinking alcohol and coffee. No cheese. You must stick to a diet of bread, rice, chicken broth and vegetables cooked beyond recognition. This is your fate, my dear. Accept it or suffer the consequences."
Needless to say, I haven't accepted it. I'm an eater, see. Not a cook- my talent is consumption. I love to eat. The spicier, the more exotic, the better. My doctor's diagnosis is thus the equivalent of forbidding an umm... artist to paint. Or something. Fuck it, fuck fuck fuck.
Someone offer me a way out of this. A way I can keep eating, and drinking, and enjoying it, without turning my insides out in the process. And yes, I've tried nexium, prilosec, you name it.

And someone tell me how to get caffeine into my system, lest my Superfirm career go the way of the dodo as I lean my head gently on my desk and...