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| Can raisins rot?Dunno why, but I've been a hungry hippo lately. I just want to eat! It's not like I don't have food here at work, but my usual staple of oatmeal and chicken noodle soup just isn't cutting it anymore. So I looked around my office for any snacks. After some digging, it turns out I have a container of raisins that haven't seen the light of day in probably two years.
 (pic purloined from http://www.fitsugar.com/97626)
They didn't look all that great, but I ate some anyways. But now I'm wondering... Can you get sick off of dehydrated fruit? They had a whitish cast to them, but it's been so long since I've had raisins that I'm not sure if white means mold, or if it's just normal. Purple grapes have a whitish skin, so it should be normal, right?
I guess it's too late now, but still. Just wondering. =P | | |
| Pervert seasonWarning: LONG. Ranty. And possibly upsetting.
I'm so pissed! I got accosted by another pervert today! What is wrong w/ this world? Just leave me alone, damnit. I mean, how hard is it to just sit down, shut up, and keep your hands to yourself? Is it that hard? Really? I do it everyday. It's not hard at all. Unless of course, you're a #$*%ing pervert. Argh!
I normally wouldn't be so peeved, except that I've met four perverts w/in a week, the third of which also turned out to be a crazy person that terrorized the whole bus. I am not kidding.
1st pervert:
I was wearing a blue sleeveless tunic with a deep collar, so it might have been my fault, but you really wouldn't have seen anything unless you were taller than me, and looking down my shirt. So there I was, riding the subway from work, trying to sleep. This Caucasian guy that looked like a huge biker dude (bandanna, facial hair, sleeveless t-shirt, skull and crossbones tattoo on his bicep, tall, muscular, and tan) sits down next to me. I feel him staring, so I open my eyes and look at him.
Biker dude: "You look nice today."
Cin: Bwuh? *blink blink* "Thank you." *Close eyes, goes back to sleep. Pray he gets the hint. Still feel him staring. Opens eyes again*
Biker dude: "Are you riding home from work?"
Cin: "Yes. Thank you." *Close eyes. Pray. Still feel him staring. Opens eyes again*
Biker dude: "My name is _____. What's your name?"
Cin: *rapid thoughts of, Do I lie? Do I lie?* "I'm Cindy." Damn, why didn't I lie?
By this time, I've given up avoiding him. If he can't pick up the clues that I'm trying to sleep (which aka means: shut up and leave me alone) and keeps staring, I might as well chat the guy up so then I can tell if whether he's looking at my eyes or my chest. *sigh* We chat about martial arts actors (he's a fan of Seagal, Van Damme, and Norris). Turns out that he's friendly and probably well intentioned and peaceful, but looking at him, you wouldn't think so.
2nd pervert:
This happened last Friday. I was wearing a t-shirt and jeans. Again, on the subway, trying to sleep. A Hispanic dude sits next to me in a huge puffy jacket with a large knapsack in his lap. I open my eyes when he takes off that jacket. Ugh, smelly. Take a shower, buddy. Hey, he's kinda skinny. So why does he need so much room? Hold up, why the #$(* is his hand hovering over my thigh? I stare at his hand in disbelief. I look at his face. His eyes are closed. Oh. Maybe it's just my imagination. So I go to sleep.
Wake up when I feel something against my thigh. He's touching me! Look at his face. Still closed. Oh. Maybe he doesn't know. Give him a dirty look anyways, and tries to go back to sleep.
Wake up again. Looks down. Did his finger just caress my thigh? Look at him. He's staring straight ahead, not paying any attention to me. Looks down at his hand again. Scoot over and shove my jacket between me and him. Just in case. Go back to sleep.
Wake up again. His finger is on my thigh again! Omg, maybe he has that big bag and jacket over his lap for a reason. So he can cover what's happening in his pants, or worse, so he can cover what he's doing w/ his other hand.
O.O
Ewwwww!
I put on my jacket, shove his hand off w/ my elbow, and he leaves me alone after that. I can't help but notice how the hand that touched me goes under his jacket afterward. *shivers*
3rd pervert:
This happened yesterday morning, on the way to work. I had the misfortune to share the bus w/ a raucous black dude w/ huge headphones on. He must have been blitzed on narcotics or something, because the dude would not shut up or stay still. Before the bus even started, he complained about how hot it was and hollered to the driver to "Turn on the ice!"
Dudes, it was a cloudy morning.
Since I was two rows behind him with a girl next to me, I was feeling a little anxious, but otherwise safe. I closed my eyes and tried to tune him out, but he was really loud. He took out a broken antennae and tapped it like a drumstick as if in beat to the music in his ears, except that his tapping was more like wild swooshes that could poke someone's eye out or jab someone in the head.
After he got tired of that, he would throw something on the floor and say, "Gotta give the janitors some job security!" Which was beyond rude, but also plain weird because when the bus stopped, he would shout to the driver to wait for him because he wanted to throw something in the trash bin. He would dash off the bus, toss it, and dash back on like the maniac he was.
When a 300 lb girl got on the bus, he offered his seat to her. She shook her head and said, "No, I'm fine," and then turned away. He leered at her and said "Yah, you're fine". O_O Then when the bus stopped, he pressed his face to the window to leer at the female pedestrians crossing the street. 'I'd *%&^ you. I'd *^$# you too." Omg, it was both appalling and disgusting.
At another stop, he offered his seat to another female, and she actually accepted it. I was shaking my head thinking, You don't know what you're getting into, lady! I was afraid that he was going to sit next to her, but he decided to stay standing. That was actually worse though, because the lady sitting next to me got off. Which left me exposed. My entire remaining commute was filled with fear because of the possibility that this lunatic might sit next to me and trap me against the window!
Another black guy got on, and he was just staring at the crazy dude and I was hoping and praying that he'd sit next to me (first time ever that I prayed for a guy to sit next to me, I normally loathe it, due to past pervert encounters). But no, that second black dude sat next to the lady who took crazy dude's seat, which really freaked me out, because now there were only three seats empty, and the one next to me was one of them.
You guys are probably laughing as you read this, but it was really scary!
Luckily, Mr. Loonybin decided he wanted to remain standing. Why? So he could swing on the pole. Who does that??? Then he asked if anyone came from Boston, Florida, etc. Because if they did, they all sucked because Kobe kicked their ass. Omg, I have a link w/ this dude. We're both Lakers fans. *shudder*
When that got boring, he went up to the driver and said, "For your drivings skills, I give you 4.0. But as for comfort? You fail! Turn up the ice!"
He had a cup in his hand the whole time (yes, even when swinging on the pole). He sloshed some liquid on the floor and then made a big deal out of cleaning it up with newspapers. "Driver! Stop the bus. I want to throw this away!"
When the driver stopped at the next stop, Mr. Lunatic raced off to the trash bin, and the black dude that I was praying to sit next to me? He hollered to the driver to start driving, so we could finally be in peace. My thoughts exactly! Unfortunately, the driver didn't. I guess he knew that if he abandoned the crazy dude, it would be worse for the driver in the next bus, because then it would be an irate crazy dude, and who knows what'll happen then.
When a person in a wheelchair got on, the crazy dude didn't have space to stand in the front, so he ran down to the back of the bus and then started terrorizing them. And this is just what I remember. You can trust that a lot of other stuff went down. He finally got off, but it was only three stops before my own, so my peace was short lived.
The worse thing of all? Gema had offered me a ride that morning. I could have avoided this whole mess. Screw saving gas or being a considerate wife and letting my hubby slept in. If I had known what was gonna happen, I wouldn't have declined!
4th pervert:
This happened today, on the way to work. After yesterday, I thought I maxed out my pervert quotient, so I was safe for at least another week. Wrong. So there I was, on the bus trying to get some sleep. I'm wearing a long sleeved dress shirt, vest, and slacks. Everything is covered. My hair is up in a messy ponytail, I'm kinda sweaty, and I'm not feeling attractive at all. A Hispanic dude sits next to me, and I'm like, yuck, another man. His thigh is touching my thigh, but that happens sometimes because men like to sit w/ their legs apart and take up my space (one reason why I hate sitting next to them. They have no sense of personal boundaries).
The back of his hand and part of his elbow are touching me, but it seems harmless. That's just the way he sits, right? He's not a pervert, I'm just being paranoid. It wasn't until halfway through the commute when I felt this sudden warmth. I wake up, and the palm of his hand is touching the side of my thigh. Like, really touching. Firmly. Once again, I'm sitting there in disbelief. You don't sit w/ your hand like that. It's not natural. I take back all my doubts. I really am sitting next to a #^@%ing pervert.
I scoot over a little bit. And then his hand scoots over too. It's unbelievable! Then I move my purse into my lap, scoot over and smoosh myself against the wall, giving us a four inch gap. He abruptly gets up and leaves me alone (hopefully, not to sit on the raised seats behind me, but I was too bothered to look back).
When I think about it, he must have been lying in wait until he was sure that I was asleep. It's disgusting and aggravating and I don't know what's the best way to handle these cases in the future.
Options:
Change my seat? Well, why should I change my seat? I was there first! I picked the seat for a reason.
Sit next to a girl and pray that she doesn't need to leave before me? Since I ride to the last stop, this won't always work.
Drive? Yah right.
Call the pervert on it? I keep telling myself that I'll do this, but half the time I'm wondering if I'm just being paranoid and the other half is in disbelief that it's actually happening.
I dunno. But something needs to happen before I go street rat crazy on the next dude and whack an unsuspecting innocent person in the face. *sigh*
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| In memory ofWarning: very, very sad
Yesterday, Monk had emailed me to contact her about Mr. M (our neighbor), so I had kinda figured that it had to have been bad. It was. He passed away. I was pretty bummed about it, but it wasn't until two minutes after I hung up the phone when I started crying. Like, crying. All the happy memories I had of Mr. M came rushing to my mind. My family moved in next door to him and his wife when I was six years old (he was prolly 60). I never knew him that well, but he was a really generous, decent person. He was very good to us and he watched out for our family.
He would do little things for us all the time. He grew his own vegetable garden, and during the summer, he would share his cherry tomatoes and blackberries. His blackberries were the best. I've had blackberries since, and none can compare to Mr. M's. His were always, always incredibly sweet.
Our families shared a yearly tradition. Each Christmas, our family would give his a box of Asian pears, and the M's would give us a two pound box of See's chocolates. My parents rarely ever bought us candy, and if it was, it wasn't choco. It'll be some Asian candy that had prunes in it or something. So to us kids, getting that box of See's was like, the best. We would make it last for a month. (Needless to say, when I read Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, I totally connected).
One time, our school had a fundraiser. You know those types where you have a catalog and try to get ppl to buy stuff from it. All my life, I never had anyone buy anything from those fundraiser catalogs. But one day, Cat and I were walking home from school, and we decided to ask the M's. Not only did he and his wife each buy something, but they told us to pick something that we wanted, and that they would buy it for us! They would not take no for an answer. To me, that meant a lot.
When Mr. M realized that we wanted newspapers, he would store them up for us. Every few weeks Cat or I would go over w/ a wheelbarrow and collect them. He would give us a bag of Hershey's chocolates (Kisses, Hugs, but usually Nuggets) along with them. Like I said before, we never got treats like that (we knew better than to ask our parents), so it was really cool of him.
I also remember one summer, when I was watering the farm, Mr. M was in his garden and we just chewed the fat over the fence. We must have gabbed for an hour or so. It was my first time really talking to him. I guess I was in high school by then. Anyways, we got to talking about movies, and he found out that I had never seen Casablanca before, so he lent it to me. He ended up lending me quite a few tapes of other things. One was a documentary on WWII and Hitler.
When I was going to start college, he called me over. I thought it was just another newspaper run, but he gave me a coffee can filled with quarters. He said to consider it as laundry money. Since I'd be a poor student living in the dorms, I would need all the quarters I could get. There was at least a hundred bucks worth of quarters in there. It was incredibly generous and thoughtful.
As I got older, I visited home less and less, but whenever I was home, I would go over to the M's and say hello. He never confused me for one of my sisters. He always knew it was me. I was afraid that he might forget my name as he got older and as we saw each other less, but he always remembered.
A few months ago, I introduced Gema to Mr. M. Now that I think about it, I think that was the last time I saw him. He gave us money as a wedding gift. I knew that at this time in his life, money must have been really tight. (Mrs. M was sick before she passed away, so the medical and funeral bills must have been atrocious).
The last few times I saw Mr. M, he was increasingly morbid about his own existence. About how he wasn't sure if he'd see another Christmas. When the important ppl in your life die on you, I can understand the feeling. He lived into his eighties. I'll always remember him fondly.
His funeral is this Friday. Please rest in peace, Mr. M. | | |
| Sick and confusedNote: depressing rant
Ugh. I'm sick. Been sick. Sucks being sick. And that's pretty much been my past week. And how did I get this way? Prolly due to all the lack of sleep during the three day Memorial Day w/e. Gema and I went to Vegas and watched two Cirque du Soleil shows (O and Love), both of which we highly enjoyed. BUT! Since we had like what? 3-4 hours of sleep in a 24 hour period (due to unforeseen ^%*& ups), we kinda zonked in and out of the show (ughhhhh, why?!!). What I did see though, I HIGHLY enjoyed.
We also ate really well. I mean, really well. I gained two pounds! I have no self control whatsoever when it comes to food. =P Shows and buffets. That's what I do when I'm in Vegas. Gambling? What's that? *lol*
We also ran into Streaker and Piglet as we were wandering around at night. That was unexpectedly cool. I was very happy to be back though. I don't know why. Except for the Taiwan trip, every time I vacation somewhere, I get sick. It's getting really old. Or maybe it's just me? >.>
Last night, I could not sleep. Instead, I contemplated my life. Some of the stuff I thought about I can't put here, but among the things I was thinking about was, 'Am I getting too old for this?'. I don't know. I'm 28. Shouldn't I be growing up? Should I still care this much about anime and manga? Watching it and getting a sense of pleasure from it is one thing, but I read and write fanfics for them too. Is this something that I'll eventually grow out of, or will I still be a fangirl ten years from now? Twenty years from now? When I have kids?
And there's the thing. When I have kids, am I still going to act this goofy? (I'm pretty goofy, esp. w/ Gema). What should I do w/ all my manga? I guess it doesn't matter right now, since I don't expect to be preggers for years to come (if ever), but I don't know. Shouldn't I be growing up? When do ppl grow up, anyways?
In many ways, I am grown up. My age aside, I have an education and I have a steady job. Steady relationship. I save my money. I pay my bills. I vote. I'm a contributor to society. I'm a responsible, dependable, stable person. But I still feel like such a kid sometimes!
Why do I care so much about the fictional lives of teenagers in a manga? I haven't been a teenager for almost ten years now! Am I always going to be this way? Maybe it's just a fundamental part of who I am. I don't know. Maybe it's good that I'm young at heart. But I still wonder about the whole child rearing business. If I'm a kid, how I am gonna raise another kid? Is that when I'm going to grow up? Do I really want to? I mean, I like the person I am right now. How much different will I be once I'm a parent?
It sucks being sick. Really, stinkin' depressing. *sigh* Am I the only one who thinks like this? | | |
| Kitchen wondersEver have something that you've always wanted, but you deny yourself in favor of saving money? You eyeball it from time to time, drool over it, fantasize about it, and then make promises that you'll buy it when the price drops enough? Well, I'm the type that has to do that. As long as I know that I'll own it eventually, I won't go street rat crazy from not owing it now.
For me, the perfect example of this was the Magic Bullet.
I've been coveting this little gizmo for years. I don't know, there's just something so freakin' compelling about their infomercial. I must have watched it 10-20 times already, but it never gets old. But was I willing to pay $100 plus shipping and handling? Heck no!
Then a few years went by and they started selling them in stores. Was I willing to pay $50? Pffsh. Yah right.
But then! Then I got our coupon book from Costco, and they knocked off ten bucks. Ten bucks? Dude! I could own one of these babies for $40? Heck yah! I counted the days until the coupon became valid, and then I fretted over it. What if they ran out? Wouldn't everyone and their mama be storming the stores buying up all the Magic Bullets? I mean, who doesn't want one? It'll be selling like hotcakes. Please, just let there be one for me. Just one. That's all I ask.
Gema and I combed Costco, and the longer it took to find, the sadder I got. They usually put the promos in conspicuous areas, but did we see any Magic Bullets on display? Nope. Up and down the aisles. Up and down. Up and down. Then there! In one of the most empty aisles of Costco, there it was. Ahhh, I was so happy. A dream has now been realized.
We've owned it since Tuesday so it hasn't been very long, but we've been making smoothies, sorbet, shakes, and using it to mix pancake batter. So far, so good. Next time I go grocery shopping, I'm totally buying heavy cream. You can make choco mousse w/ this baby! Oh, sweet, sweet heaven. XD
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