Tuesday, November 30, 2004
Wednesday, November 24, 2004
My first Thanksgiving at Mystic Market
Chef Mike: Hi this is Mike S****** calling from Mystic Market East. *pause* :voice lowers: How large is you turkey?
Once i was able to stop laughing I started to feel badly for the man on the other end of the line who was rung up on his wed night by some guy named Mike who was inquiring about the size of his turkey.
Once i was able to stop laughing I started to feel badly for the man on the other end of the line who was rung up on his wed night by some guy named Mike who was inquiring about the size of his turkey.
Tuesday, November 16, 2004
If I could attack with a more sensible approach, obviously that's what I'd be doing, right?
ca·tal·y·sis (k-tl-ss)
n. pl. ca·tal·y·ses (-sz)
1. Acceleration of a chemical reaction by a substance which itself remains unaffected.
2. (Chem.) A process by which reaction occurs in the presence of certain agents which were formerly believed to exert an influence by mere contact. It is now believed that such reactions are attended with the formation of an intermediate compound or compounds, so that by alternate composition and decomposition the agent is apparenty left unchanged; as, the catalysis of making ether from alcohol by means of sulphuric acid; or catalysis in the action of soluble ferments (as diastase, or ptyalin) on starch.
ca·tal·y·sis (k-tl-ss)
n. pl. ca·tal·y·ses (-sz)
1. Acceleration of a chemical reaction by a substance which itself remains unaffected.
2. (Chem.) A process by which reaction occurs in the presence of certain agents which were formerly believed to exert an influence by mere contact. It is now believed that such reactions are attended with the formation of an intermediate compound or compounds, so that by alternate composition and decomposition the agent is apparenty left unchanged; as, the catalysis of making ether from alcohol by means of sulphuric acid; or catalysis in the action of soluble ferments (as diastase, or ptyalin) on starch.
If I could handle life- these things in life- using a more sensible approach, obviously that's what I'd be doing. But, I'm much too tired for sense: too raw; stressed.
ca·tal·y·sis (k-tl-ss)
n. pl. ca·tal·y·ses (-sz)
1. Acceleration of a chemical reaction by a substance which itself remains unaffected.
2. (Chem.) A process by which reaction occurs in the presence of certain agents which were formerly believed to exert an influence by mere contact. It is now believed that such reactions are attended with the formation of an intermediate compound or compounds, so that by alternate composition and decomposition the agent is apparenty left unchanged; as, the catalysis of making ether from alcohol by means of sulphuric acid; or catalysis in the action of soluble ferments (as diastase, or ptyalin) on starch.
ca·tal·y·sis (k-tl-ss)
n. pl. ca·tal·y·ses (-sz)
1. Acceleration of a chemical reaction by a substance which itself remains unaffected.
2. (Chem.) A process by which reaction occurs in the presence of certain agents which were formerly believed to exert an influence by mere contact. It is now believed that such reactions are attended with the formation of an intermediate compound or compounds, so that by alternate composition and decomposition the agent is apparenty left unchanged; as, the catalysis of making ether from alcohol by means of sulphuric acid; or catalysis in the action of soluble ferments (as diastase, or ptyalin) on starch.
Wednesday, November 10, 2004
Tuesday, November 09, 2004
Last night N told me he "couldn't be there for me the way I wanted him to be."
Which means he's saying he can't offer me
support,
patience,
understanding,
comfort,
or any of the other basic things of a friendship, a relationship, that I have given him over the last 12 months. But despite this inability to give back to me in any form, he wants me to "still be his bestfriend", and be "happy for him that hes found someone else," be happy that he's "making himself happy."
N says all this while implying that I'm supposed to feel good that he has gotten all this off his chest, but first, before i can do that I need to make it stop hurting. And after the pain stops ripping through my lungs, I'm pretty sure I'm going to call the INS, not be his friend.
Which means he's saying he can't offer me
support,
patience,
understanding,
comfort,
or any of the other basic things of a friendship, a relationship, that I have given him over the last 12 months. But despite this inability to give back to me in any form, he wants me to "still be his bestfriend", and be "happy for him that hes found someone else," be happy that he's "making himself happy."
N says all this while implying that I'm supposed to feel good that he has gotten all this off his chest, but first, before i can do that I need to make it stop hurting. And after the pain stops ripping through my lungs, I'm pretty sure I'm going to call the INS, not be his friend.
Saturday, November 06, 2004
Thursday, November 04, 2004
Tuesday, November 02, 2004
Why nothing happened.....
because as we rolled onto our sides i noticed that the couch we were on was made of a plastic like leather.
Pleather?
I opened one eye as BR smothered my neck in kisses and found, on closer inspection, that the couch in question wasn't just pleather but something that seemed to resemble instead a very cheap faux pleather.
I froze and broke out in a small sweat, which went unnoticed to BR who was merrily making his way back up my neck and to my mouth, one kiss at a time.
I could not understand why Charlie's parents (the owners of the couch + house we were in) hadn't at least sprung for quality pleather when they obviously had more than enough money to do so. I am admittedly a fake leather snob, (then again who isn't)? But as far as I knew it was a widely known fact that faux pleather is morally wrong. No matter how much BR kissed me, and despite even my best attempts at refocusing on the task at hand and ignoring this little fact, i could not force my brain to deminish any of its utter horification. It was at that moment that i realized, were anything to happen, i would forever remember it- remember him- as the "pleather couch incident." This was too horrible to even contemplate, and therefore when my phone rang i made up excuses and left on the spot.
*sighs*
Pleather?
I opened one eye as BR smothered my neck in kisses and found, on closer inspection, that the couch in question wasn't just pleather but something that seemed to resemble instead a very cheap faux pleather.
I froze and broke out in a small sweat, which went unnoticed to BR who was merrily making his way back up my neck and to my mouth, one kiss at a time.
I could not understand why Charlie's parents (the owners of the couch + house we were in) hadn't at least sprung for quality pleather when they obviously had more than enough money to do so. I am admittedly a fake leather snob, (then again who isn't)? But as far as I knew it was a widely known fact that faux pleather is morally wrong. No matter how much BR kissed me, and despite even my best attempts at refocusing on the task at hand and ignoring this little fact, i could not force my brain to deminish any of its utter horification. It was at that moment that i realized, were anything to happen, i would forever remember it- remember him- as the "pleather couch incident." This was too horrible to even contemplate, and therefore when my phone rang i made up excuses and left on the spot.
*sighs*
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