Husband Material

I got the inspiration for this post from my friend's new blog, Husband Material. You should check it out.
Pictured above is my future husband, Atif. To protect his identity, I won't say which of those ruggedly attractive men is him. He had me at, “Snakes have TWO penises.” I think I won him over with my delectable Easter pasties, but he'd probably tell you it was my stunning beauty. It really doesn't matter.
We realized our future together when we met while both studying last spring abroad at the University of Bristol in England. That considered, our meeting was pretty miraculous; we could have gone about our entire life in the United States and never have known the other existed! What fortunate stars we have. I can't wait until we get to spend our golden years swapping strange animal facts, eating halal pizza and me teaching him to play the flute.
The best part of this whole marriage business? Islam. That's right, polygamy. That means that while Atif is off running some multinational corporation in China, I get two other co-wives to party it up with, help me raise the llamas on the farm, have awesome movie marathons and other such important things. We've discussed it and think that with low price of land in the areas surrounding San Fransisco, we'll probably settle down there, at least until California sinks into the Pacific. I'll update you when I and my co-wives start accepting applications for a fourth wife. You know, the one who'll actually have his kids and stuff.

The best way to spend a rainy evening

Last night I went to see Rebel Without a Cause as this artsy film house in town. I freakin' love that move. I even contemplated bringing my life-sized card board cut-out of James Dean and sitting him in the seat next to me, but it was raining.

My one disappointment from yesterday was simply that the projectionist started the reel too late. This was upsetting to me because the opening to the film is my favorite part. Rather than fading from black to the production company title then swelling into the orchestral, Hollywood theme, they started it about five measures into the score, completely ruining the overwhelming grandness of the opening. Other than that, it was great. It was fantastic seeing it on a big screen and in the company of other people. I went with a friend who had never seen it before and was delighted by the fact that she loved it. The whole thing was made even better by the fact that it was free with our student Ids, something we had been unaware of until we reached the ticket booth. Score!

Somewhat related, a friend of mine actually lives near the observatory from the movie. When I visit her, (at some point in the future), she's agreed to bring me there where (I only presume) we'll re-enact the knife fight and final scene of the movie and take tons of photos to document it. I can't wait!

Oh Darlin'

Today a screw fell out of my laptop. She's been slowly dying for the past year and as I get closer to graduation, I'm getting a little scared. It started last year with a general slow down of all processes. Right before Spring Break, though, all the hardware just started going to Hell. The panel of plastic below the key board, (where the heels of my palms usually rest), has little spider-web cracks along it's edge. Also, the right-hand hinge that connects the screen to the key board has already come detached once and is now predominantly has a piece of it that constantly sticks out. That was a particularly scary moment: for near to a minute I looked on in horror as my computer was close to being two pieces. Since then, the panel of plastic above the key board (where my speakers are) is entirely warped and I have to keep pressing it back into place. It always pops back out.
The thing is, the software, (with the exception of speed) is working fine. I just have to be sure not to say that out loud; the gremlins might hear me.
Hang in there, baby. As soon as I turn in all my work, you'll have a well deserved rest in technology-heaven.

Things found in books.

The other day while going through a book I'm using for research on my thesis, I found the stub of Robert Freucel's boarding pass for a Northwest flight going from Albuquerque to Denver. It was on the 18th of February at 8:30 AM, flight 396. I don't know who Robert Frucel is or what he was doing with the book I opened, but it's kind of fascinating that a piece of his life ended up in mine.
I realized that two years ago I left a bunch of ransom notes in a book that got returned to the library. My friends had left me after they took all of my shoes hostage and I returned the book, forgetting I had been using the notes as a book mark. I wonder who found them and what they thought of all the meticulously cut out magazine lettering arranged in cryptic phrases.

April Fool's!

I pulled one of the greatest pranks on my professor today. I changed his password to an on-line archive to “hornycentaur69” and gave him a picture puzzle to solve it. He was thoroughly amused and gave the puzzle to all of us in class to solve. What was great is that he was that I hadn't realized that I'd made the password the singular form of centaur, whereas the picture puzzle suggested it was plural. Oops! He never got into it. I'll be changing it back this evening.

Here's a copy of the letter I left in his office last night:

4/1/2009
12:00 AM
 
To the most esteemed Professor Rick Hamilton:
For the next 24 hours, your password to The Beazley Archive Online has been altered. Your temporary password can be decoded through the puzzle below. Best of luck!
 
With respect and admiration,
The April Fool's Fairy

Weekend Moments

I had two really wonderful moments over the weekend.
My Saturday moment occurred around 10:20pm. I was walking across campus to attend a party my friend was throwing. The night was beautiful; the air was crisp and cool, neither humid nor cold. Not to brag, but I looks so freakin' cool; I was wearing these jeans that make my legs look really good, a peach colored, lace top with sequins, topped off with my bamfy black jacket. The party, I expected, wouldn't be very well attended and the music would be mediocre, but I take what I can get; without expectations, you're never disappointed. I was just glad I had something to do on a Saturday night, that I'd be doing it with friends I rarely get to see and that I was going to look good doing it. Just when I felt on top of the world and super excited for this party, the song “Where is My Mind” by The Pixies started blasting from someone's dorm room. This song was so loud, it was as if the building itself were belting it. The song and it's disembodied blaring so perfectly illustrated the moment, capturing my mood indifferent satisfaction and contentment. Were I a smoker, I probably would have leaned against a tree and lit up.
My Sunday moment occurred around 6:10 pm. I had gotten back to my room from an early dinner with two friends I never get to eat with and had decided to watch Blue Velvet, a film I knew nothing about but had heard referenced so often, I decided it was worth watching if only to know what everyone was talking about. About 15 minutes into the movie, the clouds in the sky started rolling and billowing, like smoke out of some great celestial pipe. I had seen the storm approaching on my way back from dinner, the navy blue hue of the sky foreshadowing the thundering downpour that was sure to come. I paused the movie and leaned on my window sill, watching as the sky changed from navy to olive green then to a faded yellow. Then the rain came. There were only a few claps of thunder, more wind than anything, but the downpour was so devastatingly beautiful. As it got underway, I went back to watching my movie, paying more attention to the weather than the tv at points. The rain stopped within half an hour and I was a little sad. The movie was okay.

The eyes are the windshields to the soul

I think that a person's car is like an autobiographical symphony to the senses. Everyone I know who has a car manages to make their vehicle a tactile extension of themselves. Beginning with smell, one of the key senses of memory, the smell of a car really indicates a lot. I'm not talking about stink; that usually just means you need to clean your car, or something died inside it, or your brother was driving it. I'm talking about the smell that gets stamped onto the very illustration that is a caricature of your car. Two cars which come to mind is one that belongs to the only person who regularly reads this; her car smells distinctly of chocolate Lipsmakers lip balm. I don't even think she uses Lipsmakers, yet somehow this scent has become the strongest identifying feature of her car. The second car that comes to mind is the one I caught a lift to brunch in this morning. This Volkswagen smells deliciously of cigarettes. Now, I know the words “deliciously” and “cigarettes” shouldn't belong in the same sentence, but the scent is more than tobacco and poison set on fire. It's the scent of clove, tobacco and poison set on fire, all mixed with the scent that was already in her car (one that was a combination of moldy bread and clean laundry). It's magnificent.
Moving on to the actual items to be found in a person's car, they are so very telling. Even if a person's car is spotless, this still reveals a lot about where that person is in their life or in their month or in their week. The ratio of items on the floor to set ratio is worth noting. Patterns too should be paid attention to. Are there an inordinate number of coat hangers strewn about? Or maybe bags or cups from a store or eatery he or she likes to frequent. Books, magazines and foodstuffs are another good indicator. While riding in the deliciously cigarettey car this morning, I couldn't help but notice there was a case of root beer in the back seat. Seated next to it was a worn copy of The Princess Diaries. The book, not the movie. I pointed this out to my friend, to which she responded, “Yup. That's me. This is my car. You're in my world.” So true.