OOJ: scone invasion

today my PR made scones. more accurately speaking, my PR made scone:

OOJ: german moving boxes

our most recently acquired batch of used moving boxes seem to be German. i understand one word on the list, probably the same one you do: 

OOJ: metal sculptures in abq

albuquerque (ABQ) has all kinds of random but intriguing sculptures scattered throughout the city. this guy is stuck in a shopping plaza with a cost plus world market, which is where i was going when i found him. he is not alone, but he is definitely the goofiest looking one. here are some others near by:

today's OOJ (object of joy): cupcake in spaceship

discovered this awesome little guy at whole foods, where the staff humored me by putting him in a little protective plastic spaceship. i got him for my friend dave's son, who's 4 and who just became a big brother for the first time. when dave saw it, he said, "what's this? a penguin cupcake?" when it is CLEARLY a hedgehog, but i forgave him because he's the dad of a newborn. then josh, waking up from a nap, saw the cupcake. "it's a penguin", he said. like father, like son. 

i enjoy watching a white man get frisked

10 PM on a saturday night. 


my permanent roommate (PR) and i were driving back to our hotel after hanging out at a local microbrewery and having one beer each. PR was driving. he made a right turn onto a frontage road leading to the highway, and immediately our car was flooded with that unmistakable red + blue light. 


PR pulled over and we looked at each other. neither of us had any idea why a cop would stop us. we waited for the officer to approach the window. the officer- a baby-faced, pink-cheeked guy with closely cropped blonde hair- addressed PR as "man", as in, "ok, man, i just need to see your license + registration." he had PR follow his pen with his eyes. then he asked PR to step out of the car. he patted him down and had him walk the line while counting out loud.


i am terrified of cops b/c i hate their near-absolute power- their version of what happened carries much more weight than any words i can come up with. so part of my brain was racing, trying to guess how much it would cost to bail PR out of jail, and whether it would max out my credit line.


another part of me, however, was gratified by the fact that PR is a clean-cut, caucasian male. i suspect that for many Americans, when they hear the word "criminal", the face of a person of color, probably male, pops into their minds. we live in a country where people are still found "guilty of being black [or latino, or asian]". i exulted in every car that drove past us and i wanted to yell: "look at this white guy who's getting frisked! he must have done something bad! he must be dangerous!"


all of which is unfair to PR, who, understandably, did not enjoy this experience at all, and had not committed any crimes beyond weaving outside of his lane twice, according to the officer (neither of us remembers noticing this). but i'm enamored by the possibility that maybe one of the passengers in one of the passing cars was a kid, and that maybe the next time this kid heard someone  talking about a crime that had been committed, his brain would flash back to this night's image: a white man in the glare of a cop's maglite, slowly following a white line painted on the ground.

May Flying Hamsters of Doom Rain Coconuts Down On Your City

death bewilders me.


i went in to work at the store yesterday and was told that one of the other sales associates had passed away over the weekend. i was in the middle of restocking ribbon, and i had stacks of the spools balanced just right in my arms (yes, the smarter thing would be to put them on a cart). when my boss told me, i forgot about the ribbon + moved my head, making the stacks topple: clack, clack, clack of plastic hitting the wood floor.


my first thought was, "no, that's not possible." just a few weeks ago we were unpacking an order of 270 accordion books and talking about summer plans. she was going to be a camp counselor at a camp for kids with autism. shortly after that convo, she went on leave to go to Texas to get treated for cancer. 


the image in my head of her at the store, very much alive, seemed strong enough to negate the words coming from my boss's mouth. i spent the rest of the day immersed in an overwhelming cloud of confusion.


i'd think i'd be a pro at handling news about death by now. for the past ten years, i've thought about my dead brother every day- where is he now? can he see me? can he hear me when i talk to him? i've processed my feelings about his death ad nauseum through talk, through art, through music, through words, with myself, with trained professionals, with friends. but my reaction yesterday proves that, despite all my grief work, the death of a young person is still unbearably bewildering to me because IT IS NOT SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN. my coworker is not supposed to be dead, she's supposed to be at camp right now. and then after camp, she's supposed to start another year of college. and then after that, she's supposed to do something else that does not involve being dead. 


in the latest "Pirates of the Caribbean", everyone's searching for the fountain of youth. i don't know why someone would want to live forever. the longer you live, the more ppl you know die.

Accidental Chinese Hipsters

aaaaaahhhh, i love this! it made me laugh. ok, so we're just assuming the ppl in these photos are chinese, but i like that this blog gives props where props are due. only thing they're missing is glasses with thick plastic frames.
accidental chinese hipsters