insomnia haiku

Two conversation fragments

1. Take Your Kids to Work Day

Swarms of kids everywhere. Everywhere. They had activities and pizza and group color codes and assigned wranglers. The Naked Brothers played. Apparently they're ... like the Jonas Brothers? But younger? And ... naked? I don't know. Anyway.

Me, in the kitchen: [Making myself coffee, not bothering anyone]
Guy I don't know: So you didn't bring your ... Do you not have anyone you could bring today?

In the brief, not-at-all awkward pause that followed, I considered and discarded the responses "No, I killed my kids and ate them," "Not since the restraining order," and "All my kids all got adopted by Angelina Jolie," and went instead with, "I didn't have to -- I already work with a bunch of children." Which sounded funnier in my head than out loud, I'm sure, but at least it got me out of there.

I know he didn't mean anything by it. Still, it touched a nerve for the very briefest of moments. It doesn't have anything to do with whether or not I want kids; it's more that ... well, he wouldn't have made the same assumption about a guy, right? Or maybe I'm just not used to looking old enough to be a mom. More on that another time, I guess. I don't feel like writing a downer post today.

2. Outside my bedroom window, 1:30 am last night

A couple decided to get into a heated argument on the sidewalk directly in front of my window last night. Rather than being irritated by this, I was fascinated. It's not often you get to be a fly on the wall during an argument in which you have no stake -- unlike the time I was trapped in the back seat of an SUV as my two friends in the front fought all the way from Maine to Boston. That was a fun time.

At any rate, last night's argument went something like this:

Him: I can't believe, after two years, you would say that! I can't believe you would ask if I'm on your side!
Her: [indeterminate pleading]
[same stuff ad nauseum]
Her: Don't walk away! You're insulting me!
Him: YOU'RE INSULTING ME!!

And then there was total silence -- a good two minutes of silence, at least. I held my breath. Had they continued their argument down the street, and I just couldn't hear it anymore? Or had they gone their separate ways? How could he just walk off like that? But I guess she stayed put, and he walked a little way away, brooded, and came back, because in a little while I heard them talking again.

Lower voices this time. She was crying. She said "I'm sorry" a lot, and he didn't seem to be having it. But eventually their voices faded away, which I guess means they started to head home, and presumably had begun on the long slow path to reconciliation.

I'm thinking of them right now, hoping their OK. But if they're not OK, I sort of hope they come back to my street corner and have it out again. Because all of that was WAY more interesting than Days of Our Lives.

Not that I needed an excuse to eat bacon, but...

I KNEW IT.

Bacon scientifically proven to cure hangovers

Much as I am going to take this study to heart, I feel like a bunch of scientists were just sitting around, hungover, chowing down on bacon sandwiches, when one of them went, "You know, I wish there were some way we could eat all the bacon we wanted and not feel guilty about it." And God love 'em for that.

(The original article is here, but the picture wasn't as mouth-watering. Those Brits just don't know how to cook their bacon.)

"As usual, Paul Rudd was the funniest"

Paul Rudd and Seth Rogen read from Harlequin romance novels

(I can't wait until they do their spoofs of those Lifetime subway ads.)

Also: A few weeks old at this point but still the bee's knees:

I love him, man.

So a commercial about an uncashed check walked into a bar ...

Things that have flitted through my mind recently but have not made it to the blog include, but are not limited to:

* You know that wireless network commercial (no idea which one it's for -- see, branding doesn't work on me if I don't actually care) where the father, who if he isn't Doug on Flight of the Conchords certainly looks a lot like him, gets quizzed by his daughters on his Internet dating? Isn't it just a tad strange that what finally sparks his interest is the fact that his daughter's friend's grandmother wants to know if he's available -- and thinks he's "super delicious"? Every time I see this commercial, I wonder what it is that I'm possibly missing. Is he into older women? Is that why his marriage broke up? Or did he marry a much older woman, and then she died?

* Speaking of commercials, I still love the Filet of Fish one. "Give me back that Filet of Fish! Give me that fish!" Whoever wrote that little ditty, I hope he got a bonus.

* But I hate the free credit report one. Especially the one where he's wearing a pirate's outfit. The whole thing makes me happy that guy's stuck waiting tables in a pirate's costume -- he deserves it. And you know, at least he has a job. Ass. (And when I say "ass" I am referring to the character as written by the ad agency, not the actor who ... oh, whatever.)

* No one really tells jokes anymore. Have you noticed? I used to know a ton of 'em, and now I remember, like, one. (It's kind of racist, so I'm not going to say it here. I did make a bunch of people laugh with it on Saturday, though.) I wonder whether it's a sign of our changing culture, or a sign of our growing older as people. There was a nice article in the Times about why jokes are hard to remember, but that's not really my point. I just feel like we all used to tell a lot more jokes, you know, the kinds with punchlines, and now we don't. Am I wrong?

* I still don't get Twitter. I just ... don't.

* There were many other things. I've forgotten them all. This is why it's helpful to write things down. Or have an iPhone with a Typepad application that was created for blogging on the run, but ... tools are not so useful if you don't actually use them, apparently.

But here's the one issue that I've really wanted to share -- or question I've wanted to ask, really. And if anybody's still out there, please do answer, because I want to know. So recently I was clearing stacks of old papers and stuff off my desk, and I found an uncashed freelance check made out to me from 2007. Oops. In fact, I remember at some point last year wondering what had happened to that money. It's a check for $120, which a friend of a friend of mine paid me for editing the first few chapters of his novel, and obviously I just forgot it was there (or forgot where it was). And my question is: Would you deposit it?

Presidential puppy!

Awww! The Obamas picked their puppy -- a Portuguese water dog named Bo -- and he is adorable. Even, dare I say it, more adorable than the First Family itself. I kind of love him. The dog, that is.

You can read all about it in the Washington Post, though the article is so breathless and inane, I have to think the editors must've been faintly embarrassed to run it. Either that, or the Washington Post ain't the paper it used to be.

R.I.P. Good World Bar

So sad. Meatballs, I think I'll miss you most of all.

Good World Says Goodbye

Let's start in the Antwerp train station, a very good place to start

Giant "spontaneous" improv scenes set in train stations are sort of passe by now, but this is still awesome. It's got a) The Sound of Music, b) synchronized dancing, c) techno! Staged and cheesy though it may be, it made me grin. Happy Monday.

Fight club

Lately, our after-work drinking crew has gotten fixated on the following question: Have you ever punched somebody?

Much to my fascination, the number of men who've answered in the affirmative is running somewhere around 85-90 percent. Here are some of the answers I've gotten:

"Of course. Every guy has punched someone."
"I punched a homeless guy once. Well, he was either homeless or a really, really dirty drug addict."
"[My husband] head-butted someone -- does that count?"
"Well, yeah. I mean, I play hockey."

It may not surprise you to know that most guys have gotten into fights at some point in their lives, but for some reason I just didn't see that coming. So this is a guy thing, apparently? Is there some kind of hormone (testosterone, I guess) or vestigial survival instinct that kicks in? Not that women don't get in physical fights, too, but it's just far rarer. Really, no matter how mad I've ever gotten, throwing a punch at someone has never even crossed my mind. In fact, one guy seemed so surprised when I said I hadn't punched, slapped or even shoved anyone (though I've been shoved myself) that I felt like I had to start making things up. I did bite my brother in the chest once. But the consensus is that siblings don't count.

In the course of asking this question, not only have I been told stories about defending a girlfriend's honor, fighting off five guys one at a time (ninja-style! just like in the movies!), and being stabbed in Germany (lest you think I run with some kind of gang, it was a story about the guy's dad, who was in the army at the time), but I've also been instructed that if you want to punch someone so that their knees buckle, you should aim for between the lower lip and the chin. The person who gave me this advice also told me that if things get heated in a bar fight you should grab a pepper shaker and hold it in your balled-up fist, but honestly, when are you going to have time to do that? Anyway I have the feeling that if I tried that, I'd end up breaking my knuckles ... plus then I'd smell like pepper.

The closest I've ever come to committing any act of agression against anybody -- which, I'll hastily preface by saying, wasn't remotely close at all -- is when I was in a drama class in college, and I was doing a scene about a blind date that called for me to throw a class of water in the face of my partner. In rehearsal I'd just mimed doing it; but when it came time for the final performance in front of our class, I had an actual glass with water in it. The pivotal moment came, and I picked up the glass and tossed the water toward him -- and it hit him square in the face, right between (and in) the eyes. Yes, it was acting. Yes, he knew it was coming. And yes, it wasn't much like being punched at all. But the look of shock he got the second the water hit his face, the way he recoiled and let out a little gasp, the immediate, immense satisfaction I felt when I saw his reaction ... OK, yeah, maybe I'll never hit somebody. But in some small way, I think I might almost get it.