Clique

So, y'all know about my obsession with all things Google, including Google Reader. (Although, truth be told, Google Maps has been fucking with me recently - in LA, the East Bay, and Daly City. All places where one does not need the fucking around.) I digress - I have my Google Reader divided into categories that work for me. A small sampling: desi, feminista, pollyannasunshine (i.e. all of the self-help, lifehack type blogs.)

I realized that I've been playing a little game with one of the categories. It is very simply named "people I know." Pretty basic. BUT, BUT - I get this ridiculous thrill from moving blogs from a different category (maybe misc, or fun) and into this one. (I even moved PostSecret after I went to a book reading and met Frank.) I also like it when I meet new peeps who have blogs and get to add them.

So, big announcement.... I met SJ of I, Asshole! And in my total blogcrush way, I managed to make her feel NOT AT ALL UNCOMFORTABLE by opening with "So, I haven't been, like, STALKING YOU..." Yeah, social skeelz - I have them. She was chillaxin with Squid. I managed to tell them a dating story that made both of their jaws drop simultaneously. I considered my work done. I also met Maggie of MightyGirl. I was even more teenage boy with her: "Um, I read your blog." Awkward Silence. Crickets. She was v. v. gracious, but man - I need to get some "I read your shit online" game.

I will write more about how/why these fabulous meetings took place. Just wanted to gloat that I get to move TWO blogs into my "people I know category", and ADD a new blog to it! World domination - here I come!

Overheard

At the coffeshop, I overhear an older guy talking to a woman about her LARGE dog parked outside. She says that she is a rescue, and he turns to her and says, 'We're all rescues." He nods to his wife and continues, "There's my rescuer."

Sigh.

Shift

She'd been telling me about her new guy for WEEKS, emphasizing how incredibly hot he was. Naturally, I was interested in meeting this outstanding physical specimen.

Let's just say that he is somewhat less than stunning. (And let's also say that she does NOT read this blog!) I was a little dumbfounded: my friend - my whipsmart, gorgeous, accomplished friend - had practically foamed at the mouth about this man's physical charms. And here he was, smiling and shaking my hand in the coffeeshop. I won't get into the flaws, but they were there, and not in a "the whole is greater than the sum of the parts" way that might have worked.

I sipped at my ice tea and watched them. She touched his hand when making a point, he couldn't keep his eyes off of her. At some point during the hour, my icy surprise melted. It was all so sweet without being saccharine. He's super-gorgeous in her eyes because of their connection. I don't see it in him, but I don't have to. He makes her glow, and really, that's worth at least 2 points on the hotness scale.

Social commentary?

I heard each of the following songs TWICE while driving around LA:

• "Welcome to the Jungle" - GNR
• "Midnight Train to Georgia" - Gladys Knight and the Pips ( LA proved too much for the man/ He couldn't make it/ So he's leaving the life he's come to know)
  
• "Friends in Low Places" - Garth Brooks

And, yes - I listened to each one. In full. Twice.

Flower P*rn: Peony Edition

Street scene

San Franciscans are ridiculously weather wussy. If it's below 65 or above 80, we whine. Yes, that's right - there is a 15 degree sweet spot where the weather is just accepted. The weather today was above 90, which had me sniveling to my mother on the phone, "It's hooooooooot!" (And the irony of bitching about 90 degree heat to someone in DC's humidity is not lost on me.)

Tonight, I decided to wander down to the local ice cream shop about an hour before closing time. The air on the street was already 5 degrees cooler than my apartment. As I crossed the street, a neighbor's cat approached me for the standard feline greeting, winding between my ankles and rubbing her cheeks against my feet. Turning the corner, I could hear a party in an upstairs apartment, the music and laughter wafting down to me.

Unfortunately, when I reached the ice cream shop ... I discovered that every other resident of San Francisco had the same idea. I settled for Haagen Daz peach sorbet from the grocery store and headed home again. The party had settled down somewhat, but I heard a snippet from the movie another neighbor was watching. (I've been trying to place it ever since.) On my street, I saw a couple embrace, silhouetted by a lamp.

A neighborhood with all its windows and curtains thrown open, sacrificing privacy for the chance of a breeze. Madly, I felt so connected to everyone and everything.

pins'n'needles

pins'n'needles, originally uploaded by hradcanska.

Yes.

I tried it.

And I'm here to write about it.

As those who have been keeping up with me in person/via email/Twitter/gchat, etc. know, I have been MEGA-plagued with allergies this season. Like, worst ever. Like, can't sleep through the night. I'm stumbling around like I have a newborn, but no - I just have snot.

Not coo', yo, not coo'

I finally faced the fact that my allergies weren't going to turn the corner and get better. I went to my doc and got a prescription for a steroidal nasal spray that I'm supposed to use every day. From Feb. through July. Every year.

Yeah. I won't even take Advil if my head is not splitting open, so that didn't sit very well with me. While I have the sprayer as a back-up if necessary, I decided it was time to explore acupuncture. I read a book about it (well, about Chinese Medicine generally) and I've wanted to try it. Except, you know, for that whole fear of needles thing.

Step 1: Find an Acupuncturist
I used a combo of yelp and my insurance's "alternative roads" provider list. (That may not actually be the gag-inducing name, but it was something pretty close.)

Step 2: Consultation part of the Appointment
Making an appointment was painless once I actually decided to do it. My acupuncturist sat down and asked me a number of questions about my symptoms, about my health generally, and about my diet. Then, I hopped up on the table (a massage table) and she felt my pulse(s) and had a look at my tongue. From my tongue alone, she told me A LOT about my general constitution. It was kinda creepy, and kinda cool.

Step 3: Needles!
I had 15 needles. FOR REALZ! Actually, let's back up. The needles are NOT what you're thinking of: they are not hollow, so they are thinner than any of the ones you've had during injections. Having one inserted is like .... pressing your fingernail against your skin. You know it's there, you feel a bit of a pinch, but it isn't really painful. (And I'm not saying that in the "this won't hurt a bit" way - it really doesn't hurt.)

She opened the package of unused needles in front of me and then... the placement. I had a needle between my eyebrows, 2 on either side of my nose, 3 down each arm (sort of elbow-ish, wrist-ish, webbing between thumb and ring finger-ish), and 2 on each foot (ankle bone and top of foot.)

Once the needles were in, I rested on the table for 1/2 hour. I think I drifted off, or pretty close to it, a few times. She removed all the needles and I hopped off the table.

And was able to breathe through my nose. This is HUGE.

just .... no.

10:31 PM vijay8680: Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii

can we chat?

10:32 PM bussyyyyyy ????????????

maisnon: do i know you?

vijay8680: no

can we know eachother ?

friends ???

maisnon: um, no thank you

10:33 PM vijay8680: why ????????

memento

I found that little toy you gave me. You know - the inside joke? I sat there and held it and thought of you. Not even you, really, more like memories of the things we did, and the places we went. Meals shared, glasses of wine, laughs shared. I felt sadder by the second because it's all so firmly in the past.

But then I realized I was romanticizing it all: I don't miss you, exactly. I miss the you I thought you were. And that, sadly, never really existed.

no wonder I loved it ....

Place d'Armes - courtyard, originally uploaded by maisnon.

New Orleans is one of the two most ingrown, self-obsessed little cities in the United States. (The other is San Francisco.)


- Nora Ephron