332: popeil

Someone was nice enough to tip me off to SmartWool socks after I had complained in my last flip front about wool socks, sweaty feet, and the politics of kicking off your shoes under your desk at work. Well, it’s now pretty damn warm, if a bit wet (it’s 52 degrees on Wednesday, Jan. 12 as I type this), so I don’t really need the socks. Of course, the temperature is supposed to go back down into the single digits this weekend, so Friday may find me at Running Away (the local yuppie-friendly running store — www.smartwool.com listed it as my nearest purveyor of SmartWool products) buying every pair in stock. I’ll keep you guys posted on my sock findings. Or I’ll just keep my findings to myself and keep you people in the dark on my true feelings about wool socks that don’t make your feet sweat. And you’ll just have to find out for yourselves.

I went to Kevin’s for dinner last night. This is the third time he’s fed me in almost as many weeks, so I thought the right thing to do was to stop at Danny’s and bring over some snacks. I should go to Danny’s more, as they make their fresh salsa and guacamole from scratch, and it’s really effin’ good. I resisted the urge to buy the humungous chicharron the size of a pig. The snacks were good, and settle our stomachs as Kevin started making the stirfry. I chopped broccoli, Ramone chopped the peppers, and Thom (with a fair amount of interference from me) chopped the chicken. Kevin threw these into the wok while I cracked open the Scrabble board. Kathy came in with the pop culture edition of ‘Trivial Pursuit’ I had grown to love on New Year’s Day. We played Scrabble, before, during, and after dinner, just the one game, and I managed to eke out a win. My victory in Trivial Pursuit was, I felt, more decisive, but I totally didn’t get some easy ones. Like the active ingredient in Rogaine — why did I guess testosterone? Or who could forget that Ron Popeil’s company is called, duh, RonCo? I’m glad to win, as lately I’ve been feeling very stupid, and it’s nice to know that the popular culture I’ve consumed instead of science, history, politics, and math is useful in some sort of context.

Kevin finished reading first two Adrian Mole books, and while he enjoyed them he said they were not as good as “The 21 Balloons”. I guess I’m inclined to agree, but Adrian fills a particular need in me to nose in on the thoughts of people, real or imaginary, by reading their blogs or journals. Also, I always feel better about myself after reading yet again that he’s glued a model airplane to his nose. But how hard can it be to consider oneself better suited to modern life than an adolescent boy living in Margaret Thatcher’s suburban England? Yeah, not that hard at all. I guess the real story is that I’m reading “The 21 Balloons”, Kevin’s favorite children’s book, and I do love it. I want to build myself a wicker house just like Professor Sherman’s, though I would be perfectly happy not to attach it to a gigantic hot air balloon but rather mount it in a tree in Holstein Park. I guess I’m really a sucker for any sort of children’s book that inspires me to construction. And if a movie were ever made of this book, I think Wes Anderson should direct. I’m just saying. Next on my list are the Babar books, “The Phantom Tollbooth”, and “The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe”. Yes, I know, I was deprived as a child. I blame it less on my parents not reading to me and more on my fear of the long walk to the library, past the mean big kids and the drug dealers. If you have any other suggestions for children’s books to read, let a flip know.



“Aretha Franklin can eat three chickens and still go onstage and sing. She is acid reflux.” (Carlton J. Smith, quoted in this week’s La Dolce Musto)


Sahara Hotnights – Out of the System; Gravenhurst – The Diver; Pascal feat. Mr. Day – The Place Is Rockin’





~ by Jasmine on January 12, 2005.

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