She: So, do you travel often for work?

He: What do you consider often?

She: I don’t know. Five days a week?

He: Yeah. I travel often.

She: Great! So, do you want children?

He: Yeah. I want children.

She: Of course you do, you bastard. You wouldn’t be around to take care of them.

The sign blazed:

I went back for a second helping of rice. The cafeteria worker, a beautiful young Mexican woman with full lips and doe eyes generously piled rice on the small plate. “People here are a little bit crazy. They think rice makes you fat. In my country, every night we eat rice, beans and cheese. Every single night.”

I smiled and thanked her.

As I was leaving I heard her mutter, “Maybe that’s why I’m a little bit fat. Hmm.”

I noticed her, more because she looked out of place, completely overdressed for the local bar, than for any other reason. A long, black evening gown, sparkly silver clutch, long clawlike fingernails that were horribly unattractive, hair ironed and slicked back into a tight ponytail at the crown of her head. She sat down beside us at the bar, ordered a drink, paid cash, and checked out the local scene, detachedly observant.

Moments later, she bent over to get her things and left the bar, drink still half full. A few minutes later Tricia and I noticed our wallets were missing. Damn her. After a round of expletives, we walked out onto the sidewalk, seeing if she was still in the vicinity. No such luck.

We informed the bartender of what had happened. He offered his apologies, bought us a round of drinks, then commented, “I knew there was something suspicious about her. I mean, who orders Bacardi and pineapple juice? That in itself screams criminal activity…”

“Matters of Taste

The latest in tasteful eyewear

by David Shaw, LA Times

A German company has created frames with detachable arms you can use as chopsticks. But why? So I saw this story not long ago about a German company that sells eyeglasses with detachable frame-arms that can be used as chopsticks or forks…”

read more….

My first thought was – oooooo. Gross. Eating raw fish with something that’s been perched behind your ear all day. Yuck.

My second thought was – oooooooo. Putting on glasses that have been dipped in soy sauce and wasabi that have clasped raw fish. Yuck.

But I like where he went with useful combinations.

Watch/corkscrew. Not bad.

Tie clasp/Eucharist shell holder. Not so much.

What else????

How about poncho/waterproof tablecloth? Great for those days in the park where you need something to lay your picnic spread on… in a little precipitation.

Earring/clam shucker. Could be useful.

Ring/dental floss dispenser. You always need dental floss at the most inopportune moments. Swirl it up in a fancy shmancy bling bling ring. Problem solved.

Countless other opportunities…

My Hawaiian plate came with two scoops of rice and one scoop of macaroni salad. Yuck. I forgot to tell them to hold the macaroni salad. Mayonnaise has always disgusted me. What could be good about combining oil and eggs? I sat, reading, nibbling on my pulled pork and rice, avoiding the morsels that had come into contact with the evil macaroni salad. A tiny moth encircled my head, fluttering, floating, diving. Right. Into. The. Macaroni. Salad.

Oh no.

I looked around, wondering where it had flown off to. I looked up. I looked to my side. I didn’t see it in the air. I peered down.

Oh no.

Death by mayonnaise.

There it lay, motionless, drowned in the macaroni salad. Poor moth. Instead of feeling disgusted, I felt somewhat vindicated. I always knew mayonnaise was bad for you. And here was indisputable proof. You, too, could suffer death by mayonnaise. Don’t do it.

I was shocked when I saw the man in front of us cradling a newborn who couldn’t have been more than 2 weeks old. A few minutes later my companion expressed same disbelief. It wasn’t just a girl thing.

Later in the game, as foul balls were being hit our way, the man in front of us turned to his friends. “I’m going to make ESPN’s top ten. I’m going to catch a foul ball, bare-handed, while also holding a baby. That’s what I’m talking about.”

The two men he was with laughed. The woman half jokingly said, “If your wife sees you on tv trying to catch foul balls and not doing the duck and cover with the baby, you’re going to be on a list alright. And it ain’t going to be ESPN’s. That’s what I’m talking about.”

She opened the refrigerator, filled with beverages of all varieties: beer, water, teas, sodas. “What would you like?”

“I think I’ll have a beer.”

“Heineken, Beck’s, Pilsner, or, let’s see, New Cast Stile.”

???

I glanced at the familiar brown and gold label and laughed. “Could that be Newcastle?”

Three of us were having lunch poolside, enjoying the sun, catching up on girly conversation.

“So he says to me, ‘The difference between men and women is that women have to account for every moment and every person they’ve been with since they’ve last seen each other. Men don’t give a damn.’”

I thought for a moment. “That’s so not true.”

Later, two others joined us. We had all had dinner together on Friday night. As one slid into the cool, shallow water, she enthusiastically asked, “So, what’s everyone been up to since Friday night?”

After the laughter subsided we went around, telling who and what we’ve done in the 72 hours since last seeing each other. Maybe he had a point.

She’s telling me about a recent first date experience.

“The conversation had come to a lull and he blurts out, ‘So what bothers you?’

What kind of question is that? To what extent do I admit my rage? Are we talking world hunger, wars, the standard beauty pageant answer? Or do I admit that it drives me crazy that the deli guy at Safeway doesn’t speak English?”