July 2007 Archives

I didn't know whether to laugh or be appalled by the New York Times article about this hackneyed study that found obesity to be "contagious." I think you can talk about friends' influences on diet and exercise and discuss the longterm ways in which friends' lifestyles grow to resemble each other, but to say you can "catch" obesity is irresponsible. Especially charming was one of the doctor's responses to this. While he said that avoiding obese people for fear of getting fat wasn't reasonable, he did have another idea:

You don’t want to lose a friend who becomes obese, Dr. Christakis said. Friends are good for your overall health, he explains. So why not make friends with a thin person, he suggests, and let the thin person’s behavior influence you and your obese friend?

Hey why not? That crackwhore is pretty thin, let's hang out! Really, what loaded language. Not "healthy" person, not "athletic" person, just "thin" person. As though this thin person magically holds the best lifestyle choices and eats the ideal diet and whose mere presence will cause the pounds to melt away.

Essentially, this study, while coming up with some interesting data, decided to present it inn the most headline grabbing way and mean way. A way that distorts causality and points blaming a finger where it can do the most harm. Boo.

Did you know this existed?

It's a yard full of Filipino detainees performing a scene from the Thriller video. For real. Also, this particular batch of prisoners have a wide and wide repertoire.

On a final note, the Harry Potter: it is done and read. I promptly went back and read all the things that I was afraid would spoil me, and let's just say I'm glad I stayed away.

I first heard about the Denver Back Nine party two years ago when I was visiting here for a wedding. The idea is simple: get nine houses within walking distance of one another to each create a miniature golf hole in their yard and serve a themed drink. Throngs of people then come--dressed to the nines (ha)--and golf in a progressive party throughout the neighborhood. It just so happens that when we moved to Denver, we moved right into the neighborhood where this party usually happens, and after much assuring of various coordinators that we very much wanted to participate, we created a golf hole and started the party off at our place.

We worked backwards from a design to a theme to a drink. J wanted to do some sort of jump, and an Eval Knieval hole was born.

I was originally planning on serving flaming drinks, but then realized I can't serve 50 people flaming drinks, because you can't serve a flaming drink in a plastic cup and also serving 50 flaming drinks seemed like a bad youtube video waiting to happen. I considered rounds of flaming shots, but then ditched the whole idea and went for a gustatory fire instead of a visual one. That's to say: margaritas with green pepper tabasco sauce in them, which are actually quite delicious. I made them "Ring of Fire" margaritas by rimming the glass with red and yellow colored sugar and some of that spicy Mexican powdered candy. Hot! Literally!

The themes for the rest of the holes were pretty amazing, too: a giant birthday cake, a geographically-correct floating Cuba, George Bush's head, a wobbly bridge, and--my favorite--the Twin Peaks Black Lodge. The host even made a valiant attempt at recreating Black Yukon Sucker Punches as the themed drink, though the blue Cool Whip floating on top was a turn-off for some at the end of a long night.

This had to be the most confusing party to witness in passing. First of all, everyone went all out with their flashy golf clothes, so it would have been an odd sight to see small groups of people wandering around the neighborhood in bizarre clothes holding golf clubs. Secondly, towards the end of the night the party would just tend to tumble to the next location all together. So you can imagine the irritated neighbor who looks down to see a party of 50 rowdy people all drinking and golfing next door, only to realize twenty minutes later the yard is now entirely deserted.

I'm already brainstorming holes for next year.

The party required so much preparation that I had to wait until Sunday for this treat:

J got his grubby hands on it first, so I went back and read the sixth book while waiting (good idea), then lost my patience yesterday and made my friend loan me his copy. I'm almost half-way through, so I'm that much closer to being able to return to the Internet full-time.

I am a bit distraught about the new Harry Potter book being leaked online. This makes me believe people will be gloaty about knowing the ending and key plot points and they won't be able to keep their big secret-spilling mouths/blogs shut. Inspired by Heather, I'm actually rereading all the books now so I'll be super caught up when I get around to the last book. But seriously: I will punch some people in the face if they ruin 6 torturous years of suspense for me. IN THE FACE.

It was off to the dentist for me this morning. Did I tell you I got a little chip in my front tooth the night I was leaving for New York? Well I did. It was after a long, stressful day and before I had packed and after biting down on a fork and there might have been some frazzled tears involved. There is nothing that will make you feel like a hillbilly faster than a chipped tooth. The dentist said he could fix it and that the giant gold tooth was optional. The hygienist was the stereotypical chatty type, where she was literally asking me questions while instruments were being jammed in my gums. I choked out a couple answers before realizing that while she was technically asking questions, she wasn't really waiting for responses. I imagined what I was experiencing was less a conversation and more her inner monologue let loose.

But here is what killed me: she kept referring to my cleaning as a "nap." As in, "Are you ready for your little nap?" Which frankly confused the hell out of me. Did she expect me to close my eyes? Does anyone close their eyes during a cleaning? I brushed it off, but then her stomach grumbled and she laughed and said, "Oh, ha ha, I'm going to keep you awake from your nap!" I guess in a way, referring to a process where one must recline in a weird chair and submit to a half hour of uncomfortable poking and prodding in one's mouth as a "nap" is funny in its own bizarre, creepy way. Like calling your paper-wrapped alcohol bottle your "medicine."

I fear we are treading into boring dentist story territory, but real quick: I found out that the bump on the roof of my mouth is something only some people have. It's genetic! Like attached earlobes. And all this time I thought everyone had the same inside of the mouth as me.

First of all, the mushroom mystery: I was only joking about there being a mycologist out there, but apparently my blog audience puts me only one degree away from a real live doctoral student in fungi at Berkeley! Pat Michels (who has done some really beautiful documentary and photo documentary work on competitive eating) sent me a note saying he passed along the photo to his fungi-studying friend and that "the people in his lab agreed it's prob a dried-out one of these, a dictyophora (the eggshell thing where it comes out of the ground is apparently a telltale sign). Don't eat it!" Go ahead, click on that link. That creepy mushroom? Is even creepier! I'm glad J didn't see it with that crazy white mesh on it or he might really have lost it. Thanks, Pat!

New York was great. There were roof parties, margaritas with Real Girl, time by the pool, and lots of eating and drinking. It's only a real vacation if you are always a little hungover and either eating something or planning what to eat next. Of course there was the Nathan's competition, which was completely amazing. Highlights include: receiving a pair of knee-high Crazy Legs socks from the bun fairy, Badlands Booker dedicating his performance of "She's My Bunnette" to me and Dani, recognizing Joey's bunnette as Sara from the second season of ANTM, and getting to watch a re-broadcast of the competition with the eaters when it came on around midnight at the bar. That last one was really the best. All the eaters got really excited and everyone cheered when someone present came on screen. Of course, you couldn't hear much and there had been several tequila shots passed around by that time, so I don't know how many details of the broadcast were absorbed, but the excitement was palpable. And as far as my future as a bunnette goes, it is still up in the air. I was told in some veiled conversations that I shouldn't hang up my dreams just yet, though I'm not entirely sure what that means. Obviously, now that I'd be joining the ranks of past ANTM contestants, I want it more than ever. Man, between this and and the pretzel competition she hosted on her show, if Trya and I ever cross paths we'll have SO MUCH TO TALK ABOUT!

Do you realize there are two karaoke game shows on television right now? There are. I was reading while J was watching one and it took me almost half the show to realize he wasn't watching the same one I had seen. Really, television? This is what we've come to? Though last night's contestant's "back up singer" was named Mr. Staples and that was about the best thing J and I had ever heard. The back up singers are friends or family that can come to help out a contestant in need, and this contestant needed Mr. Staples. At one point, he filled in the words and they were debating how sure he was about them, which led to maybe the best exchange on television ever:

Wayne Brady: How sure are you, Mr. Staples?
Mr. Staples: About 90% sure.
Contestant: Oh! I'm counting on you, Mr. Staples.
Wayne Brady: That's a lot of pressure for Mr. Staples.

I really wish I knew someone named Mr. Staples.

There have also been a lot of repeats of "Man vs. Wild" on, which I love. My friend says he started watching it because his boyfriend loved it and told him to keep watching because "sometimes Bear gets naked!" Which is about every other episode. Sometimes he gets naked and does push-ups on pointy rocks, which is pretty awesome, too. There are certain words Bear likes to say a lot, like "crevice" (cre-VAHS) and "civilization" (civil-eye-SAY-shun). The one we were watching a couple nights ago had him in a desert and the only way he was going to survive was by drinking his own urine (this was after fashioning a head wrap out of his boxer shorts). He not only peed in his canteen and drank it, he did it like 20 times during the show and commented on it every single time. I get the survival thing, but I could not watch this man drink his urine and talk about it. Yes, okay, drink your urine, but I only need to be told once that it is urine in your canteen and you are drinking it. The next time I see you with that canteen, I will remember. I promise. Though I guess to be fair, if I had to drink urine to survive and there was a camera crew around, you can bet that would be the prime subject of my confessionals.

Willow is in town this week! Expect stories of mayhem and debauchery to come. Or movie watching and brunch, one of the two.

I have some catching up at work to do, some cooking club to cook for, and some Twin Peaks watching to do. I'll be back soon with updates about future Bunnette-ing, New York, and the positive identification of the mystery mushroom. If you're curious how all the hot dog business went, you can read about it here. Let's just say there's a little treat in there for you ANTM fans. Back soon!