sublingua

The heart with a mind of its own.

(Be present.)

The mind with a heart of its own.

(It's past.)

The dream that is your waking life.

(Go there now.)

The Creation
Saturday, Sept. 18, 2004

Frida's Got A Brand New Bag

In my continuing quest to make Frida the happiest and most beautiful bike on the planet, I waxed and polished her up this afternoon, then took her shopping. We stopped at two places to look at tank bags because my beloved and I need a way to carry our parcels. I found the bag I wanted at the second place, and as a bonus, ended up having a wonderful chat with the first Hottie Clerk of the day, a supercool guy named Dave, who not only remembered selling me my helmet, but who also talked motorcycles with me not as though I were a dumb girl, but as the intelligent woman who rides a motorcycle that I am. He also, as a secondary bonus, scoped me out, doing that thing that used to disgust me, but which now amuses and sometimes (depending on the guy) flatters me, that thing where they're doing such a good job maintaining eye contact while they talk to you that you know they must be thinking Must not look at the chest...Must maintain eye contact...Must not look at the chest...Must maintain eye-- and then they can't help themselves and, very surreptitiously, check out the boobs and then, as quick as they can manage, get back to the eye-contact. I love that. It reminds me of Oliver, Andrea's fabulous dog, who knows that he MUST NOT SNIFF THE CROTCH OR THERE WILL BE YELLING, so he does this thing where he runs up to you all friendly, gets his petting action all taken care of first, then reallyquicklysniffsthecrotch and runs away before the yelling. I find this so hilarious that, much to Andrea's dismay, I refuse to engage in the Yelling At Oliver's Retreating Form portion of the proceedings.

And Speaking Of The Smell Of Raw Fish, Or, The Continuing Adventures Of Sushi Girl

I went for a fabulous solo dinner of raw fish tonight at a distant place. Well, solo is not strictly correct, as I dipped, from time to time, into some Hemingway (True At First Light) that I carry with me for protection. I had a wonderful roll of tuna, hamachi, sake and avocado in a daikon (instead of seaweed) wrapping, and some amaebi, and tai. I had yet more opportunity to practice one of my few hobbies (outside of cultivating my cynicism), which is watching amateur sushi diners ask questions like, "What's in a California roll?" and make rice and soy sauce soup in their little bowls because they don't know that they're supposed to dip nigiri sushi fish side (and not rice side) down in the soy sauce.

I love those people who claim to love sushi, who dine on it because they think they're being so sophisticated, and then they eat it like amateurs. They allow me to feel such an easy superiority.

...And A Movie

After sushi dinner, there was a hottie video store clerk viewing and coffee, again solo. Hottie VSC was working with Lesser Hottie VSC, but both stopped to chat with me. Hottie had recommended On Any Sunday to me and I had taken it, as I do many films, on the strength of his recommendation alone. (Well, that and his fabulous stormy blue eyes go a long way towards convincing me to do just about anything he requests of me.) When I rented the film, he had rewarded me by re-enacting a few scenes from the movie, getting very animated while miming the guys on bikes leaping dirt hills and singing portions of the soundtrack to me. When I brought it back, three days late, I waited in line so that I might give them a viewing of Hottie Sublingua (I was wearing the infamous size 4 Armani skirt paired with the ubiquitous low-cut black button-down--way down tonight--shirt) and, incidentally, try to pay my late fee. However, in keeping with the understood Hottie Late Fee Policy, which states that Sublingua Is Exempt From Ever Paying A Late Fee (though I abuse their on-time return policy with a vengeance that borders on pathological) , neither Hottie nor Lesser Hottie would let me pay up. So instead of paying, I requested Astaire/Rogers and/or Carmen Miranda films of Lesser Hottie. They had none, prompting Lesser Hottie to say, "We suck," and to offer Xanadu to me instead. He was greatly amused and giggled delighedly when, in response to this offering, I told him that I was going to slap the box right out of his hand and then pick it up and beat him with it, I hate that movie so much. (And don't I love it when a boy giggles delightedly at my offers of senseless violence?) And later, as a tribute to their Hottie-ness (or should that be "their Hottie-nesses"?), I found myself serenading the Hottie Duo with bad '70's soundtrack music.

I love Hottie and Lesser Hottie. I'd do anything for, with, or to either of them--in exchange, of course, for continuing late fee waivers.

And The Award Goes To...The Universe, For The Creation Of Hottie Video Store Clerks!

Thank you, Universe, for Hottie video store clerks, for raw fish, for Frida Kahlo, for Armani, and for bad '70's soundtrack music.

retreat or surrender

More lies:
Waking Sleeping Demons II - Sunday, Oct. 30, 2011
Waking Sleeping Demons - Saturday, Oct. 29, 2011
time - Friday, May. 20, 2011
- - Wednesday, Oct. 06, 2010
The Return - Tuesday, Oct. 05, 2010

� sublingua sublingua.diaryland.com.