u r b a n s l a n t

Today is Heaven in a Styrofoam Cup Day here at work. What in the world is Heaven in a Styrofoam Cup, you ask? Oh, if you only knew. It’s not simply the cream of wild rice soup the cafeteria serves every Thursday. Oh, no. It is the world’s BEST cream of wild rice soup, so rich, so creamy, so incredible that I’m sure it contains ten sticks of butter and gallons of heavy cream. But who the hell cares when it tastes like paradise? My friend Shannon called me out on it, saying that was the real reason I decided to return to my old company, and she’s so right. It’s so amazing that if they paid me in soup, I would probably be OK with it. But that’ll just be our little secret.

I bought a new kind of underwear today. I thought it looked soft and comfortable in the package, so I bought two pairs. When I got home, I took them out of the packaging and nearly died. I bought a size 6, but, somehow, I don’t think they’re going to work.

They’re microfiber, and apparently they stretch 360 degrees (does anyone know what that really means?). This is good, because from the current looks of them, I doubt even Milo could squeeze into a pair (although it would be seriously funny to attempt, I’ll refrain from humiliating him into next week). They’re supposed to fit people who wear up to a pants size 14. All I can say is, I’d really like to see someone try.

Last night I dreamt that I was in Vegas having a raucous old time with friends and family. We were hanging out in the pool on the roof of the Bellagio (hey, it’s a dream), going on thrill rides on local airplanes, and hanging out in our luxury 40-person suite before heading down to the poker tables. Wouldn’t you know, I woke up smiling, but totally exhausted.

Fortunately, it helps that today is the most gorgeous day ever. I can’t remember a day this perfect since…I don’t even know when. The piercing blue sky is flawless, and the air is crisp and clean and fresh. It makes me want to take deep breaths and drink it all in with the sun shining down on my face. Days like today make me feel like a better, happier person. I think I’ll celebrate by going out for sushi.

I was driving to work this morning when all of the sudden I realized that in no way was I even remotely headed toward work. In fact, I was headed in the exact opposite direction of work. Apparently, instead of driving to the office, I subconsciously decided to head to Chicago.

This does not exactly bode well for my sanity. Or does it?

Robert and I went out for sushi over the weekend while Sarah finished up some work she needed to do. He brought his iPod along so we could rock out to our favorite tunes from Cape Verde (although not necessarily Cape Verdean), which I hadn’t heard since I’ve been back. Jamming to an accordion at 70 mph brought back memories I didn’t know I’d forgotten. It was great. All we needed were 20 more people, a few chickens, and a bottle of grogue to turn my car into a full-fledged hiace. While we were rocking, Robert and I discussed how neither of us ever heard Cesaria Evora the entire time we were in Cape Verde. Then we jammed out to “Gasolina.”

We went to Kikugawa, where the quality of the fish was so incredible that we both wished that we had forgone the sushi and went straight for the sashimi, instead. The salmon was the best that either of have had–ever (and most of Robert’s sushi experiences have been in California). It literally (literally!) melted in our mouths like butter. I am convinced that the salmon we had would have converted any non-sushi eater immediately. I still can’t stop marveling over it.

Sunday was Sarah’s bridal shower, where she received so many kitchen accessories she could open her own Williams-Sonoma. I fully expect to be invited over for a three-course meal once she and Robert are in their new digs. I’ll bring the wine.

Finally, tomorrow is my last day of unemployed freedom, so I’m spending it, where else, but at the Mall of America. Sarah and Robert are going with me, Sarah to buy shoes, Robert to marvel at the extreme limits (or lack thereof) of American consumerism. In other words, it should be a fun time had by all.

So I decided to take Milo with me when I ran out to Taco Bell tonight to satisfy my craving for fountain soda. For some reason fountain soda is like crack to me lately, and I have to have it immediately whenever the urge strikes (and no, the canned and bottled stuff just won’t do, and no, I don’t know why). Anyway, I thought Milo could use a little excitement, so I put him in the car and took off. Now, usually I pack him in his kennel on car rides, but this time I decided to let him sit in the passenger seat since we were just running out and back. He, however, wasn’t so keen on this idea, as he stumbled drunkenly around while I drove, shooting me baffled looks while trying to climb into my lap. Eventually he settled down while we were in the drive-thru, although still shooting me wary looks of confusion. I pulled up to the speaker and ordered a large soda, the first time in my entire 28 years I have ever done so (I can usually barely finish a 12-ounce can). I drove home, pulled into the garage, grappled with my bucket of Diet Coke (large is seriously large), and turned to tell Milo we were home. Well, apparently he had had a Zen experience while on the drive back, because he was now lazily lolling about in the passenger seat; when he heard my voice, he turned nonchalantly and yawned right in my face. I turned the car off and got out, yet he merely looked at me like, “You go ahead. I just want to finish up my meditation session. Ommmmmm.” It took me probably a solid minute to get him up and out of the car, an entire minute when I could have been sucking down my vat of carbonated goodness. However, I did finally get him out of the car and into the house, at which point I totally forgot about him as I savored my caffeine fix (mmmm, it’s gone now and about time for another–what is wrong with me??).

And in other news, I finally reenter the workforce next week, having landed a cushy contracting gig with the company I worked for right before I left for Peace Corps. It will be nice to have a cashflow again, although I have to say I really enjoyed my time off and am a bit sad to see it go. The work will be full time and last a minimum of 12 weeks, which should give me enough time to find a solid non-profit job (which is what I’ve been looking for all along, with little luck). Oddly enough, I’ll be starting the contract work on the 23rd–almost five years to the day from when I first started working there (August 22, 2001). Strange how things happen like that, eh?

And now I must go answer the call of the fountain drink once more.

I’m not sure when I got so damn old, but apparently I can’t tolerate more than a few beers a night anymore. What the hell happened to three-beers-and-six-or-eight-Tom-Collinses nights? Well, actually, I don’t really want to remember those nights (and now that I think about it, I’m surprised that I do). Beth’s bachelorette party was last night, and although I only had about two or three beers, they were enough to keep me slightly nauseated until morning. Clearly my advancing years are affecting my alcohol tolerance, although I think that reeking of stale beer and sweaty boys also added to the nausea. And when I say boys, I mean boys. When did everyone get so damn young? All I had to do was announce my age to stop conversation within a five-foot radius. I admit the club catered to a younger crowd, but the way some people reacted, you’d think I’d asked for a glass of water so I could soak my dentures. It could have something to do with the fact that I look about ten years younger than I am, though, I suppose. I mean, it wasn’t too long ago that saleswomen were still trying to sell me prom dresses. Ah, well, what the hell are you going to do? Age ain’t nothin’ but a number, right?

Apparently the video I posted yesterday is funnier than I assumed it would be–after he saw it, Robert said he couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed until he cried. He debugged my laptop yesterday and did all sorts of unexplainable things to it to make it more efficient. As much as I like computers and technology, I am basically retarded when it comes to the specifics of IT. So it’s really nice to have friends in the know.

Today I need to buy a dress for Beth’s wedding on Saturday, and as much as I know I need to buy the dress, I’m in absolutely no mood to go shopping. I’ve been tired and achy all week. I’m also developing a bit of a sore throat, so I’m probably trying to throw off a virus, which really doesn’t put me in the mood for shopping. However, I have nothing to wear to her wedding, and I’m sure they’d appreciate it if I didn’t show up naked. I’d better try and find something this afternoon, because Beth’s bachelorette party is tomorrow night, so I don’t want to be running around all day tomorrow, either. Maybe I’ll run out for a few hours today and then come home and curl up with Milo, a cup of hot tea, and some edamame. That sounds good to me.

Whenever I’m in a bad mood (which seems to be quite often, lately), I can usually find something on YouTube to cheer me up.

It’s not choke-on-your-beer hilarious, but trust me, it helped immensely.

It also helped that I finally got in touch with my friend Christine to catch up on life. She and I have the kind of relationship where we see each other a few times a year (she lives in Chicago) and don’t need to keep in contact the rest of the time at all in order to keep our friendship going. She’ll call and leave me a voicemail one day; I’ll return her call and leave her a voicemail four, maybe five, weeks later. She’ll return that call and leave another voicemail a few weeks after that and so on, until we finally connect out of the blue and catch up on everything that’s happened since. It may sound crazy, but it works for us.

On another good note, a group of us went to the Body Worlds exhibit at the Science Museum today (well, technically yesterday, since it’s past midnight). I’ll sum it up in one word: incredible. I didn’t think there would be as many complete adult bodies on display as there were–I thought there would be two or three, and there were probably close to twenty. All of the bodies had been Plastinated (a procedure in which fluid plastics replace the water in a body to preserve it) and fixed into life-like poses. The Smoker was smoking a cigarette, the Runner was running, the Chess Player was playing chess, the Gymnast was balancing on the rings, etc. The Bodybuilder was actually two models: his massive muscular system posed next to his complete skeletal system (yes, it looked as crazy as it sounds). There were also bodies consisting only and entirely of nerves, so that they looked like human forms molded out of thousands of bright red filaments. Apparently those models had been created by Plastinating the nervous system and then using acids to burn away the rest of the body tissue, leaving the plastic intact. I thought it was fascinating.

There were also sliced Plastinated segments of organs and body parts, diseased organs (cancerous lungs, brains with tumors), and limbs with artificial parts (such as a leg with a metal knee replacement). In addition, there was a complete section consisting of pregnant women, fetuses, and infants, including a Plastinated pregnant woman with her eight-month-old fetus still in her uterus. There were also embryos and fetuses at various stages of development, conjoined twins, and fetuses and infants with birth defects. I found this section the most disturbing, but also the most intriguing. After such an extensive look at the human body, I can’t imagine being satisfied with a simple model skeleton ever again. If you have the chance to visit the exhibit (currently in Minneapolis, Boston, and Houston, I think), I’d recommend it. It’s definitely not something you’ll see every day.

Hate all that choreographed dance bullshit that somehow passes for a “music” video? Well, I’ve found something that may just change your mind. Meet OK Go.

Can you believe they shot that all in one take? Me neither.

I think I’m a little bit in love with them.

Why is it that shameless self-promotion is all the rage lately? Maybe I’m just tuning in late and it’s been in vogue all along, but now it seems more blatant than ever. HGTV is airing a promo for a new reality design show in which one of the contestants looks at the camera and sneers, “I don’t do okay, I do GREAT.” What is he, Tony the Tiger? If I were a judge, he’d lose on the basis of that moronic statement alone. On last season’s “The Next Food Network Star,” one of the contestants was convinced he would win because he thought he was so beautiful, fit, charming, and talented, which he made sure to mention during nearly every episode while simultaneously cutting down his fellow contestants. Still, that’s nothing compared to the bloated praise contestants shower upon themselves on “The Apprentice.” Of course, they have quite the example to follow, as the show once featured a shot of a framed photo of Donald Trump hanging on the wall, entitled MASTER OF THE UNIVERSE. And then, of course, there’s Paris Hilton. Apparently she has decided that she is this decade’s icon. ICON. Based on what? Her amazing screen presence on the FOX network? Her prestigious “film” career? Her astounding vocal talent in “Stars Are Blind”? Her wisdom to proclaim that only fat people drink Diet Coke? Hmmm, I’m thinking less “icon” and more “idiot.” But maybe that’s just me.

I don’t know what was up with my bad mood yesterday, but it hit me from out of nowhere and camped out for the rest of the day. Luckily, Harry Potter helped a bit (as Harry Potter always does), as did listening to the rain last night. At any rate, I think it’s gone now, or at least hiding under its rock for awhile.

So the big news is that my brother and his wife are having twin girls! I know my sister-in-law is relieved, because she feared that the testosterone would kill her if she were to have twin boys in addition to the two males already inhabiting the house. I agree, it will be nice to have a little estrogen to balance things out. I can’t wait to have two little nieces running around. And I’m sure my brother and his wife can’t wait for me to visit so I can babysit while they pass out from sheer exhaustion.

It’s hard to believe that my younger brother will soon have three children (and all under the age of three!). Are we really getting that old? I thought 30 was the new 20, but all of the sudden my knees are cracking every time I bend my legs. The hell? A friend and I have always joked about ending up like the Golden Girls, but I didn’t think I’d be needing a cane (or Centrum Silver) quite so soon.

In foodie news, Robert, Sarah, Kirsten, and I convened for sushi yet again over the weekend, this time at Origami, one of my favorite sushi restaurants in the city. We ordered the deluxe sushi platters, which featured a variety of nigiri, including octopus, salmon, tuna, yellowtail, and shrimp, as well as smelt roe, maki rolls, and Japanese omelet. We also had miso soup, seaweed salad, Japanese pickles, and the best edamame I’ve ever eaten. I’m not sure what made this particular edamame stand out. Maybe it was that the pods were warm, almost hot to the touch, and that they had been lightly salted to just the right degree–not too much, not too little. Or maybe it was simply the edamame itself: fresh, crisp, and bright on the outside, tender and slightly sweet on the inside. Needless to say, we ate with gusto, occasionally moaning and rolling our eyes (or choking on unexpected lumps of wasabi, but whatever). I’d love to take them to all of the sushi restaurants in the city, but it looks like we’re going to have to space them out a bit, since we’ve hit sushi several times in the past few weeks. There are so many great restaurants to choose from, though, that I’m sure nobody will be complaining wherever we end up next.