Coffee and Astronomy

I'm not a very loyal addict. My half-pound of coffee arrived today and my brain is steeping in a comfortable brown bath. I'm not even thinking about chocolate anymore. I am most certainly not thinking about warm gooey chocolate brownies fresh from the oven, of dipping Hershey's kisses in gnutella and then in fondue while surreptitiously scouting out the premises to finagle a moment of privacy in which to take the fondue head on, literally, or ripping off all my clothes and jumping into Willy Wonka's chocolate pool and seeing if my lungs can extract oxygen from liquid chocolate. If they can extract it from liquid oxygen, I don't see the problem. Coffee is fantastic.

The Daughter of Smoke and Bone is getting a little more exciting, though I can't shake the quasi-guilty feeling of reading something that may or not be quasi-pulpish. The only thing I can say for sure about it is that I'm still reading it. But I may reread The Name of the Wind when I'm done. Meanwhile in Lamb, Jesus is making friends with the abominable snowman. Biff has just proposed the theory of evolution to him and Jesus rejected it even faster than he did Biff's theory of universal stickiness (gravity). Good fun.

As soon as this entry is done, we're going to watch The Matrix. It's been a couple years since I saw it last, so pile on the shaming. My dad may disown me if he reads this and believes it. Mom will have to raise me all on her own, and the four of us (my sister will also be present) will have dinner together occasionally and talk to each other through her.

Dad (to Mom): honey, will you tell my former son to pass the salt?
Mom rolls her eyes
Me: It was only one time! For two years! How long are you going to punish me for this!?
Dad (to Mom): what are we watching after we finish this glorious dinner?
Mom: ...The Matrix?
Dad: and who's not invited?
Sister crosses fingers, hoping it's her

Speaking of epic, for those of you who are always complaining about hearing Stairway to Heaven in every corner of the room, listen to Astronomy by Blue Oyster Cult. It was my go-to track for short distance running, the two times I subjected the local gym's treadmill to that kind of unholy contrast between awesomeness and mediocrity.

Good Reading

I've been reading a lot lately and watching very little. I usually start several books at once and let them compete for my interest. Sometimes I end up dropping all of them but usually one grabs my attention and I'll abandon the others to their fate. If they deserve to be read, they'll remind themselves to me I figure.

The latest winner was The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society, a charming novel (?) written entirely in letters, and thus constantly juggling ~10 voices. Though I really liked the book, I'm a very lazy reader, and when towards the middle I realized that this character Susan Scott, who showed up less frequently than the rest, was a blindspot in my mental cast lineup, I bulldozed through Susan's latest letter without skipping a beat. Someone else may have flipped through to the beginning of the book and sniffed out this woman's role (I'm reasonably sure she's a woman), but I'm not bothered by such minor inconveniences as not knowing who a character is. I read purely for the pleasure of the process, which is why I can reread all the books I've already read and enjoy them the same the 2nd time around. In fact, when I was younger, this was exactly what I did. I had two books that I loved, which was the only fact I remembered after reading them each time, and I would read them over and over while my parents tried to inveigle me into reading something new. "Didn't we say you'd like Three Musketeers? Trust us, you're going to LOOOVE ...(I forgot)." Yea, and you were right, Three Musketeers rocked so hard that who would ever need another book?

Anyway, dear Susan, these days, I'm more adventurous and I constantly read books I've never read before. I think. It's hard to tell sometimes, every book's a bit of a deja vu once you start either enjoying it or stop caring a fig for it.

The current book I'm munching on is Daughter of Smoke and Bone. So far it hasn't blown me away. It reads a bit like the supernatural (vampire, werewolf, zombie, turducken) adolescent melodrama crap my sister binges on (no offense sis, and good to see you here!), but it's also got a bit of a spunky Hellboy touch to it, which was decent fun...but I draw the line at decent. The main reason I'm still reading it is that it comes with Patrick Rothfuss's effusive recommendation, the Patrick Rothfuss who has us all biting our wrists (we already gnawed fingernails, fingers and hands off) waiting for the last installment in the Kingkiller Chronicle. I'm way more excited about it than you were about the 7th Harry Potter book. Trust me on this one Susan, go to the nearest bookstore right now (don't fret, there's one right on your Kindle), and get yourself a copy of The Name of the Wind, the first book in the soon to be trilogy.

Now I must really bid you farewell Susan, I've got some mean potatoes to peel.

30 day trialarama

I'm experiencing extreme withdrawal. If any of you have ever been addicted to heroin, tips would be much appreciated right now. Today is the first day of six 30-day trials, the most important being a rerun, a classic, a killer, a challenge about which epic love songs have been written - no sugar. I don't know why I do this to myself, I would not approve if I were me. So far I've managed to slip into daydreams about candy roughly every 10 minutes. If I could just do a reality check every time I craved a piece of chocolate, I'd have already had 50 lucid dreams today.

The other trials are:
2. 300 pushups / planks mix & match, where a 2 minute plank is equivalent to 50 pushups. In 30 days, my lower back will have bigger pecs than my chest and I won't be able to do planks anymore because my abs will touch the ground. Children will use me as a rocking horse.
3. Read with Yuan Yuan in English for 30 minutes. Currently we're halfway through Lamb (The Gospel According to Biff, Christ's Childhood Pal), hopefully we'll finish that this month. I'm accepting suggestions for the next book. Candidates need to be either extremely funny, or at a middle school reading level.
4. Being vegetarian. Piece of cake as chocolate is the only meat I care about.
5. Stretching - 2 mins each of 5 different stretches. I hear that being flexible can extend your lifespan and it makes sense; corpses are the least flexible people I've ever met.
6. Blogging every day. This one started yesterday. I've failed the previous two times I attempted this one, but will never admit it.

No sugar is undoubtedly the hardest; I've yet to invent a doable 30-day trial that's harder. Even the trial of doing 25 pushups every time I wanted to sit down, and the trial of no sitting down at all for 30 days (except to poop), pale in comparison. I've been to the fridge more times than I've done pushups and there's never anything new there. I've forgotten all about Mario. Unless it's secretly him that my subconscious is looking for in the fridge.

Mario is history

Mario left yesterday, back to the land next to the land of the burrito. For the last three months we've been singing the refrain "if Mario leaves..." then "if Mario leaves in July..." and finally to "if Mario leaves at 1:30AM on July 9th..." (Note to self: good outline for a song). It started because Jia Yan and Yuan Yuan are hopelessly romantic at heart, having their brains filled from an early age with Chinese soap opera sludge. It still leaks out their mouths though we've stoppered their eyes and ears. If life were a soap opera, there would be a final "if" at the airport, a plaintive "if you leave me now..." and Mario's heart of anti-(social)matter would finally signal to him in furious Morse code that he has to stay. For the orphans, of course. Alas, the orphans will have to fend for themselves this time. Mario would appreciate the irony, he loves Charles Dickens.

When the game started, Mario would roll his eyes as he hadn't the shred of a Parmesan cheese crumb of a doubt that he would leave on schedule. But eventually he joined the party. "I haven't decided if I'm going to live with Ben or by myself when I go back. If I go back, I mean. And if Ben doesn't move here..." We all laughed at each episode of "If Mario leaves" and I'm sure Jia Yan's heart broke a little each time but she did a great job of hiding it. I only once saw her puffy eyed and that was on the last day, when the mystery was about to be solved and the "will Mario leave?" question was about to be casually duh'd out of existence. Apparently it was a four player game because it doesn't seem as fun anymore.

Today our new roommates arrived, fresh from the roommate factory. They're a Chinese couple, and half of them are pregnant. The first thing the pregnant half did upon arrival was jump on our electronic scale and complain about not being fat enough. I'm in love with her already.

They seem...nice. Like elves. After the weigh-in, they offered to take me out to dinner, which I politely refused, then they walked around outside until they hit their quota of toxic air and went promptly to sleep at 10:30. I have a feeling they might get up at 6 and make me breakfast, then leave some on the table and quietly slink off to work so I won't be shy about eating the leftovers in front of them. Then they'll come home and quarter me for eating their food. Cause they're evil elves. We'll see.

Here's a slice of Mario before you go:

Mario: what do you think would be easier, if space was limited or time? ...Probably space.

Mark: unless you're stuck inside an egg

Mario: yea, good point. Even if the egg is light years across. Uhh...I feel so claustrophobic

Iron Man and Chuck

Iron Man 3 is on the horizon. I make it a rule to have low expectations for anything that ends with a 3, so I can be pleasantly surprised no matter how bad it is. Usually I do such a good job with the first part that I end up not watching the movie at all. But I don't always have a choice in the matter because frequently all the other movies in a 2 month radius are made in China (I live in Beijing and sadly Chinese film is even more mediocre than the sweetened garbage that comes out of Hollywood), and Yuan Yuan needs to be entertained. Otherwise she'll entertain me, Gladiator style.

Recently we've been on an almost exclusive Chuck diet. I'm usually busy so entertainment hour coincides with feeding time for efficiency. This has interesting side-effects:

1. Yuan Yuan is more likely to volunteer to cook, since I can go without eating meals and she needs her helping of Chuck.

2. I have no idea what anything tastes like anymore, but sometimes I'll find myself cracking up when I put Yuan Yuan to bed and grab a carrot for a midnight snack.

3. Mario has watched more TV in the past month / 2 seasons of Chuck than he has in the 9 months before that. He never admits to watching, and he's really good at looking away just in time when you try to catch him sneaking a peek, but when he's studying the same syllable on the same flashcard before and after the episode, it gives away the game.

Instant mastery for sale

I asked Mario today how much he would pay to instantly become master of After Effects. Not THE master, but a decent master like Andrew Kramer, one of my more personal personal heroes. Mario started at $1k and I massaged him up to $5k with promises of future riches, but he wouldn't budge past that, despite the fiercest massaging. He finally shelled out $10k to become an instant badass actuary but that one was just a hypothetical scenario.

$5-10k seems like a miserly sum for even the most average greatness. I think I'd pay at least 10 times that amount. Now I just have to find someone to take my money. And then write them a check. The people in the Matrix didn't know how easy they had it. What the hell were they thinking going back to the real world to fight crime. They could have been After Effects masters!

Yesterday's discussion was much cheaper, but entertaining none the less. We were hypothesizing what would happen if everyone suddenly switched gender. How much chaos would erupt in Muslim countries? Would the next US president be a woman? Would I still be with Yuan Yuan and would I develop a taste for male? Would there be a frenzy of revenge rape? Would Mario get up and pour me some water like a good girl? Would there be no one in the streets the next day because they'd all be at home playing with themselves while shopping for shoes?

Obviously our research, and I don't hesitate to call it that because we used the scientific method and because it was inconclusive...was inconslusive. But mark my words, one day I'm going to give you a sex change and then you'll wish you thought about this sooner.

Who wears the glasses in this relationship?

Today, after a shower, I went back to the room to put on my pants, a little ritual I have. Yuan Yuan, who can't just sit around when I'm naked, jumped up from wherever she was on the planet at that time and did a little dance around me, or rather between me and the pants. Being a man, and therefore stronger and faster and smarter, I managed to get to my pants and begin putting them on before she could figure out right from left, which she has a history of mistaking for each other (as well as for up and down, depending on the pitch and roll of the bed-shaped centrifuge we keep next to the bedside drawer and call a "bed"), at which time she seized my left--a.k.a. her right--leg and danced with me around the room while I tried in vain to put my right leg and then whichever leg turned out to be the other leg into the pants, which was even harder than usual.

Of course when I finally succeeded, Yuan Yuan was sprawled on the floor (did I mention I was stronger?), screaming "give me back my glasses! They're in your pants!" (Did I mention I was smarter?), after which I felt something in my pants above me knee, and it was glasses (Thank goodness. I'm proud to say I haven't crapped my pants in years. That means at least 2).

Sadly, the comedy ended there and the soap opera began. I refused to take my pants off to get her glasses ("Whose fault is it my leg is wearing your glasses!") and Yuan Yuan refused to reach her hand in from the bottom and fish them out ("Take off your pants like a real man!"). The night ended in the worst possible way - everyone apologizing, including Mario, for not taking off his pants to check for spare pairs of glasses. 

Speaking of wonderful people acting stubborn and prideful, a former student once told me that if someone spits in your face, you shouldn't give them the satisfaction of seeing you wiping off their spittle. You should just pretend like they're not important enough for you to even acknowledge that they spit in your face.

 I wonder how many loogies his face is wearing right now.