(~6hrs last night. Sigh.)
Today was really slow. So I had LaunchCast on off-and-on. Sometimes I am seriously weirded by what it picks out for me. Today's best: "I Need Someone" by Lenny Welch; Album: Anthology (1958-1966). Explanation: This song matches your genre preferences (Genre: Pop)
Also: One of the songs it played was Dar's "Are You Out There" which I now have stuck in my head and find I do not have on mp3. Help?
Am reminded that dogwood is really pretty, though.
I saw YoungSmoothieGuy at the fruit stand at Harvard but didn't say hi -- was on my way to see an apartment
I always forget how nonintuitive Davis Square is. I didn't have too much trouble finding the street I wanted, though.
Walking down Dover, after a few blocks there was a sigh that said, "exiting central business district." (No, there isn't a complementary sign on the way back.)
When I hit Mass. Ave. I saw Cafe Barada, which Amanda had told me about.
Ah, Cambridge et al. On my way down Mass Ave. I saw "aesthetic restorative dentistry" with a pride sticker, a hippie dippie health store for pets, among others.
It was 15 minutes from the T Station and that was strolling. I was ~10min. early, so I walked around a bit. The area reminded me a lot of Norwood -- in a good way.
Oh studios, though. I realized that the problem is that it's a good size for a bedroom but you're also fitting a kitchen in there. (I keep saying I just want a room the size I currently have, but that's plus
a kitchenette.) I'm looking at two places tomorrow -- a studio and a multi-bedroom, and I'm thinking that studio is really not the way to go for me. And I've been warming to the idea of housemates (I think of it like the good parts of Smith living).
I picked up a copy of The Improper Bostonian
'cause the cover story was about Boston's top bartenders. It's 25 profiles, and each has a Signature Drink. One is "The Nymphomaniac" -- equal part's Captain Morgan's Spiced Rum, peachtree schnapps, and Bacardi Coconut, with a splash of cranberry juice. Shake on ice and serve straight up in a martini glass; garnish with a cherry. *makes mental note*
On the Red Line home, someone was reading the Boston Phoenix
-- article headlines I read from across the way: "peeps star in prom. snuff film" and "Will This Judas Save Us?"
There were a couple women sitting near me, talking, and as they got off at Park St. one of them said something about Mt. Holyoke (in a way that sounded like she had gone to college there) and I was sad that they were leaving so I couldn't continue to eavesdrop/potentially butt in.
Talking with my mom about my boys, I made a crack about funeral invitations and was actually momentarily boggled that that isn't
how one does things -- 'cause other than elder people, who reads the Obituaries? I declared that when my parents die I am totally sending out invitations.
My dad was watching Smackdown
when I came home, so of course I watched.
They have a poor man's Jack Sparrow. King of the Ring dates back to 1993. (I was 13.) One of tonight's historical clips included the beginning of Austin 3:16 (they brought Jake "The Snake" Roberts back as a Bible-thumper?). Slamming the steel cage door on the wrong person in the JBL match = awesome.
They have a new wrestler -- over 7 feet tall and the Undertaker totally failed against him. His manager (Daivari) was talking about how for 16 years we have talked about The Phenom (I'm really not sure that nickname for the Undertaker goes back to his inception, but okay) but this guy really is
phenomenal, and the crowd started chanting "U.S.A." and I was grossed out. The Undertaker is teh awesome, and you can righteously hate on the bad guy who knocked him down without making this about villifying the Other. The politics of patriotism in WWE are one of the things I totally wanna get all academic about and on the other hand I feel like I have nothing to say besides pointing at stuff (which of course leads to questions about what the purpose of any
textual criticism is when so much of it is just pointing at things and making explanations/connections). Anyway, his name is The Great Khali and I was wondering if it was a play on Kali
, Hindu goddess of destruction, or just a euphonic conjunction of syllables. *misses access to OEDonline*
My dad suggested it might be a Persian name. His manager talked about the Punjab jungles of India, so I suppose that answers that.. His manager: "You will fear The Great Khali, You will [something I forget] The Great Khali, You will worship
The Great Khali." [dramatic kneel with upraised arm] I would be interested to see if they do anything further with that. *is religion/symbolism/story geek*