6 posts tagged “pineapple”
To get me through my busy, mopey summer (the mopey part of which ends on Sunday, when Pineapple returns!) I've been listening to a lot of books-on-MP3 courtesy of Librivox.org and Audible.com. More Librivox these days, because the books are in the public domain - ergo, free - but thanks to sales and occasional coupons via audible, i've built a disreputable library of audiobooks that are more current. I say disreputable because I've listened to such books on tape as the Twilight saga -- which was much easier to listen to than perhaps it was to read. The reason is this: you can tune out. It becomes ambient noise, and when you tune back in, the plot will not have advanced any further. But in the meantime, you got your laundry done. Huzzah!
But, of course, being of fairly strapped means these days, I prefer Librivox, where you can download free podcasts of classic novels. In the course of the month of July, I've "read" three Edith Wharton novels and started on some George Eliot. I will finally get through Middlemarch! Next month, though, because I'm reading Daniel Deronda first. For some reason, the plots and characters are easier to keep track of audibly than when I've read these books. Also, I didn't giggle through the whole first half of The House Of Mirth this time because of Mrs. Peniston's name. The only drawback is that the readers are not professionals, and not all of them very good. Some have poor pronunciation (and I find my Greek-and-Latin-addled mind shouting the correct pronunciation of words), some over-act (male readers especially do this, and it's kind of hilarious), some read without any inflection at all, and some have grating voices. The worst of it were two chapters of The Custom of the Country, which were read by someone who had an affectless, nasal voice, who ignored the general rules of punctuation, and on top of that who had such a thick Austrailian accent that I barely understood what was going on. I had to rewind a lot to figure out who said what when. But some of the readers are great. The girls who read Summer and The House of Mirth were wonderful, and I currently have few complaints about the girl who is reading Daniel Deronda -- although her pronunciation of the word "piquant" as "pie can't" is a tiny bit irritating, and George Eliot seemed to have a fondness for the word.
I'm also listening to a lot of comedy podcasts -- the old favorite "Jordan, Jesse, Go!" having started a mania for me. I have almost an unhealthy obsession over the men of "Stop Podcasting Yourself," who have cemented my belief that Canada is an incredible country. Then there's "You Look Nice Today" which is a bit confusing at first, but if you stick with it you will find yourself a) pissing your pants over everything Merlin Mann says and b) entranced by the sleepy, sexy voice of Lonely Sandwich. Recently I added "Comedy Death Ray Radio" to my feed, which is a newer show and a bit more like a traditional radio show, although with cussing. Last week, the guest was the beautiful, amazing, humble, brilliant, and also apparently hilarious Jon Hamm.
So I have done well for myself, warding off the boredoms and awaiting my best friend's triumphal return from Germany. Still, it will be be good to have her back so I can stop acting as though Dave Shumka and Graham Clark are my friends -- although one day they will be. They will be. *rubs hands together and cackles menacingly*
(context: talking about my paper about sex, sexuality education in US public schools.
Tigi: This seems to be the loudest rallying cry - that Christian students are left feeling uncomfortable in a school system that adopts what is deemed a more politically-correct approach. There is, of course, a common sense problem with this. Public schools cannot discriminate against students of any religions - this is why they cannot force a Muslim student to eat carnitas burritos at school lunch. But is hearing separate ideology from what they may hear at home always discrimination?
Pineapple: EXCELLENT. I feel like this is a new development in the history of discrimination rhetoric. because never before was it available to people to claim this was anti-discrimination for its own sake. You know, it's always been more like about the dignity of all people and hippie dippie crap like that. But now, they can say, "YOU'RE BEING DISCRIMINATED AGAINST?! TELL ME ABOUT IT!" It's like men who are uncomfortable with feminism.
Tigi: Yeah. They can suck my dick.
"I would have used the bathroom at Billy's*, but I didn't want to catch skank."
"Skank-yllis."
"Skank-orrhea."
"Skank-IV."
"Skank-PV. Wait, that's human papilloma virus, skanks aren't human."
"That's why it's Skank-papilloma virus, no vaccine for that."
"Actually, Skankorrhea sounds like the name of a trendy theme resteraunt. Skankeria."
"Like, the skank cafeteria?"
"If we ever open a restraunt, that's what we'll call it. Skankeria. And we'll have food like... fish tacos."
"For dessert, FUR PIE!"
"Nice! Solid work!"
"Thanks, I'm proud."
"You should be. You know, Chino Latino** serves a sushi called Pink Tacos."
"Nice work there. I've always hated that euphemism, though."
"Me too."
"It's like, anyone who SERIOUSLY calls it a pink taco doesn't eat a lot of pussy. Or tacos."
* Fratty bar on Grand in St. Paul, a few blocks from my house. It is to bars what Dane Cook is to comedy. A conversation about this bar went like this:
"You'll have a fun time, but it won't be dignified."
"Oh! Like when I lost my virginity."
**I guess some latin-asian fusion restaraunt in Minneapolis? It's apparently a big deal. I have not been.
One: Snazzy new glasses and a haircut! Note the presence of Bonnaroo in the picture. I have a tendancy not to sit on the couch when I do work, but to sit in front of it with my legs folded under our coffee table. I've been doing this for years and I don't know why. Sparky and the Dwarf Star were always puzzled by it, but I think Pineapple and LBCS have known me so long that they understand that I'm a creature of bizarre habit. Anyway, that's why our dog-sitting charge is on the couch and I'm on the floor. I don't want you to think that I was pushed off the couch by a Jack Russell Terrier. I can take and have taken Bonnie down in feats of strength. I have also taken down my nephew-dogs Bauer and Davy, and Maggie doesn't do fights. There is, in fact, only one dog I cannot over power.
Shiphrah. Pineapple and I dog-sat Shiphrah in June and we're dog-sitting her again. As K-Jo says, Shiff has junk in the trunk. She is the biggest effing dog you have ver seen -- almost cartoonishly huge. Friendly, oh yes, very friendly. But effing ginormous.
Two: Snazzy new prescription sunglasses. You may have noticed that the Bonster is out of this picture, perhaps scared away by my rendition of Corey Hart's "I Wear My Sunglasses at Night." Hey, if you're rad, be rad. I can't control how awesome I look in pink shades with rhinestones on the side. Apparently, Bon-Bon can't handle me when I'm being REAL.
Anyway. So there's that.
Incidentally, there is a player on the Milwaukee Brewers named Corey Hart. One of my gay cousins* and I, at the family Brewer game a few weeks ago, sang that song whenever he was up to bat. The Brewers Corey Hart chose country songs for his "songs," which I thought was a waste. If you have a name like Corey Hart, embrace the song "Sunglasses at Night." It's kinda like how I'd like Ryan Adams better if he did the occasional tongue-in-cheek cover of "Summer of '69." Maybe now that' he's sober, he'll see the humor in it. I mean. COME ON!
* I have two gay cousins... that I know of. This particular gay cousin is my age, and I had someone to talk to during the game who was as bored as I was by sports. Anyway, I also decided to do the "Explain the sport to him" talk while we watched it, but in my own way, so it went something like this
Him: So what is going on?
Me: Well, that is called a field. And all those tiny people on the field are trying to score things called points. That tiny guy throws a tiny ball to that guy and he tries to hit it away from him.
Him: Are the people really tiny? Are you sure it's not that we're high up?
Me: Yes. They are all that tiny.
Sookie: "The first time Jackson and I... you know... I called him and told him I had a bat in my attic."
Lorelai: "Well, you did have a bat in your attic."
Yesterday, Pineapple discovered that squirrels know how to get in our basement. It's unfortunate that she had to discover this since she's been known to jump with surprise if someone opens the bathroom door a little too quickly, but I probably would have also pounded up the stairs and shouted, "There's a fucking squirrel in our basement!"
It's really a daunting thought, since this house is chock full of unmarried women. Who will get this new invader?
(For the record, when I went down there this morning to start my laundry, the squirrel was nowhere to be seen. Either he found a way out or he's Pineapple's spirit animal and only visible to her).
Pineapple is my best friend and therefore nearly faultless, but she does have one annoying quirk -- she spaces out. Not in the ditzy blonde "tee-hee what were you saying?" way, but a "I forgot I was alive" way. It's as if her brain reboots -- she looks away for a minute, totally expressionless and seemingly deaf to whoever is frustratedly asking her to finish her goddamn story already (e.g. yours truly). Usually, she forgets altogether what she was saying. I think there are about five hundred unfinished stories in our years of friendship, and most of them are hers. She told me that she actually thinks nothing during these blanks, and I believe her. Pineapple is one of the smartest people I know, but I think part of that is because her brain takes these unscheduled breaks. It needs a rest.
I, on the other hand, usually am thinking something when I blank out. It's never anything important or interesting -- probably something banal like, "I wonder how paint is made" or "I like turtles" or "Oiii'm 'enery the EIGHTH, oi am!" but there's something small going on in my head. As opposed to the rest of the time, when I am thinking nothing but big, deep, heavy thoughts. Like, "Am I prettier today than I was yesterday?"
---
Pineapple and I were walking on Grand this afternoon when we saw a bus that had a sign which read, "Finance rates so low, you could buy this bus!"
"Why would I want to buy that bus?" I said aloud, and then Pineapple asked what I would do with a bus, anyway.
I told her that I'd become a renegade bus driver -- I'd take fares and keep them all for myself.
"I have this mental image of you waiting for people to pay and then kicking them off the bus."
I got this image, too. "Yeah, and the police and they're all like, 'What do you mean you got robbed by a bus covered in skulls and crossbones?'"
Anyway, that's how i decided to become a Pirate Bus Driver. I'll attack other buses, board them and say, "Arrrr! Give me yerr farrres!" I'll run people over and blast heavy metal music and the screen on the front of the bus that usually gives the bus number and route will only be displaying hands shooting the finger a'la Lyle from Achewood.
It will be the greatest thing in the world. For me.
