remember when

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well I'm not that into you, either

stand-up guy
Today I went with a friend to the pharmacy at Walgreens to pick up her medication. There was an issue with her prescription so we had to wait while it was resolved.I sat down while she stood in line. An older man, probably about seventy-five years old, sat down next to me. "I got my Cialis. You want to see it?" "No thanks.""I gotta crush it up and take it with something hot.""OK.""Just because I'm slowing down doesn't mean I don't still get my sex thing on.""Of course."Miraculously, at this moment my

baby you can park my car
At lunchtime today when I went to move my car for the umpteenth time this week (as per usual to avoid a parking ticket) it occurred to me that parking in an urban city with a large population is not dissimilar to dating in an urban city with a large population. You drive around in circles looking for that perfect spot--one that is close to your destination, big enough to fit your car and in a safe enough area. This is usually not quick. Often, the spots that fit the bulk of your criteria are taken and so you expand your search, checking less-ideal but still-satisfactory streets. When that doesn't work, maybe you attempt to slum it in a faraway alley somewhere. Sometimes, it's al

seriously
One night toward the end of my senior year of college, over cheap gin and tonics at the crappy bar next door to my apartment, I sat next to the older guy who had my attentions at that particular moment (and for all moments preceding--at least for the previous year) , nodding, laughing, enjoying everything he was saying...until he said this:"God, Gabi, your life is so easy. I wish I could trade with you. All you have to do is go to class and your part-time job. Nobody takes you seriously but it doesn't matter because you're not doing anything serious."I wish I could tell you that I threw my drink in his face, made some sort of brilliantly witty remark about his insuff

Kings
On Saturday Dana and I made a pitcher of some sort of lime-sake concoction (he called it "Indian Sangria") and got into a very intense game of 1-on-1 Kings (not to be confused with Kings Cup). I first played this game in my friend Dan's dorm room, sophomore year of college, and though the rules have evolved over the years, it's essentially the same game.I want to document the rules now so that someday, when I'm old and gray and can't remember how to play my favorite drinking game, I'll have a point of reference.To start, shuffle a deck of cards, with the jokers removed. Spread in a circle and gather friends with drinks around the cards. Take turns drawing cards and p

anatomy of a craving
I wanted a cookie.It was 10:00 on Tuesday night. I'd had dinner a few hours ago and I wasn't hungry, per se, just desiring of something sweet. I peered in my pantry. No cookies. Nothing even resembling dessert. I looked in the fridge: vegetables, goat cheese, tortillas, salmon, milk--nothing sweet. I opened the pantry again. I had oatmeal. Did I want oatmeal? No, not really. I had bread. Could I have toast? Nope. Not interested. I was about to put on shoes and head to 7-11 when it hit me:I have peanut butter.I remembered a recipe I'd made several months ago. They weren