the flying squirrel

Monday, April 2, 2001

I was thinking about saying something about this. I'd come across the Psycho Ex-Girlfriend site through memepool.com last week sometime and thought... well, I'm not really sure what I thought. But eventually I thought I'd get around to working it into my running, somewhat ironic "putting your life on the Internet" theme. Especially since Psycho Boy has become some sort of pop culture icon. But Tycho did a better job than I ever could, evidentally having more of the sort of real life experience that makes one's opinions worthwhile.

Instead, I'm going to go with that old adage and write what I know.

There's this little Chinese food place just up the street from where I work. They have some lunch specials—rice or noodles topped with meat, veggies and sauce—which were a bit more expensive than what I was used to in my past life a couple blocks away, but not too bad, considering. I first ordered the Beef in Black Bean sauce ("mild," I said when asked), which tasted fine, if a little dry, except that there were hard, rock-like bits of stuff in it which kind of turned me off.

They also gave me a fork. This is understandable, racially speaking, but there's always a right way and a wrong way to do things. Mind you, I've never asked for chopsticks and a spoon, so I have no real right to complain, but if I applied that rule to everything, I'd never have anything to complain about.

I didn't go back for a while. With my alternate choices being pizza, subs, waiting in line at Tim Hortons and nothing ( the latter being what I was most proned to do for some time, having given up any hope of ever being organized enough to prepare myself a bag lunch), within a month or so, I tried them out a gain. Beef and Black Bean (mild) again, and this time, I was quite happy with it. I tried their Chow Mein, and it was quite passable. Then I tried their Chicken and something.

Oh my freakin' Lord in Heaven. What the hell's with all the flaky bits of chili pepper?! I threw most of it out. Putting aside that I can't eat it, call me crazy but I actually like to taste what I'm eating. You know, savour the subtle flavours and textures. I can't do that when my mouth is on fire.

Figuring it was a fluke with the chicken thing, I tried the next item on the lunch special menu. Toss. Okay. The next time I wised up a bit. Realizing that for the last two things, the lady at the counter didn't ask me if I wanted "hot" or "mild" as she had for the Black Bean Beef, I decided to head her off at the pass for the next item on the list.

This time, it was actually edible. Barely. Those damn chili flakes again.

Something was up here. Today, I went back for the Black Bean thing, recalling that, when specifying mild, it wasn't spicy at all. So it seemed like a safe bet. When prompted, I stated my "mild" preference. Get it back to work and ACK! Not inedible, but those damnable chili flakes are everywhere. Toss.

Maybe I'll just give in and stock up on luncheon meats.

Tuesday, March 27, 2001

I haven't been reading much lately. In part, I don't mind so much. I've got lots of other things to do. In another part, I kind of want to drift away to some fantasy land, rapt in somebody else's life.

I went out and bought Mary Doria Russel's Children of God, the sequel to The Sparrow, which I read and liked. But The Sparrow, the story of a Jesuit priest with a mission to make first contact with aliens (and, in a sense, God and himself) was way depressing in a lot of ways, and that's just not what I need right now. Strangely, both these books are linked to To Say Nothing of the Dog by Connie Willis, a book I loved lots, but mostly because it was light and cute and funny and had time travel in it, none of which applies to Mary Doria Russel's stuff (Connie Willis' Doomsday Book, while still having some muted humour and time travel, has a heavy, tragedy-laden story which is what bridged me over to The Sparrow).

I also bought A Game of Thrones based on recommendations from friends. This was despite the fact that it's a hexalogy (?) of really thick books. Unfortunately, the prologue revealed a legion of sinister, undead creatures. I hate undead things. I tossed that one back on the shelf.

I'll take reading suggestions, but don't be offended if I turn them down. I'm kind of picky, and since I'm an awfully slow reader, this is a bit of a time investment for me. I think I'd like to dive into some fluffy and fun mystery novel. Maybe I'll stop by the library on the way home.

Tuesday, March 20, 2001

There's this truck that sits idle outside my window every morning. Sometime in the evening too. It drives me crazy. There isn't anything in the world that grates in my nerves more than a diesel truck idling. Well, nothing that I can think of at the moment.

For some reason, on this page, I feel compelled to turn this into some sort of metaphor for Life. I can't think of anything. It just bugs me, is all.

I'll be honest, I've been feeling pretty crappy lately. There's this cold to start with. My grandfather died two weeks ago. I'm still not sure how I'm dealing with that one. We weren't very close, although I made an effort, these last couple years, to spend more time with him when I was home on the occasional weekend or holiday.

I didn't know him very well, I suppose. One thing that surprised me was when I was told that I'm exactly like he was when he was young. I'd never noticed, except that we're equally talkative... Which is to say we aren't.

I know I'll miss him. He was always such a nice guy. It's a shame I didn't know him better.