Tuesday, May 31, 2005

Calling On Your Considerable Vocational Expertise

Now that Mateo's done with his masters degree, it's time for Spurious to go back to school. Hooray! An excuse to pick up a Hello Kitty pencilbox with 600 springloaded-compartments! Um, sorry.

I’m thinking of becoming an RN (a registered nurse), but I'm not sure how to begin. Where does one start? I’m pretty sure you can’t just march into a hospital and scream, "LET ME MINISTER TO YOUR AFFLICTIONS!!!", you have to go to school…but where?

I’ve been working in hospitals, at least in an administrative capacity, since the earth’s crust was cooling and dinosaurs roamed the earth. How the hell I wound up working in the magical world of medicine with a BA in English Lit is puzzling in itself. One day I was minding my business, disinterestedly discussing The Farie Queen (I fucking hated The Farie Queen), and the next day I was reviewing neurosurgery instructions with a patient and writing a grant. WTF?

The patients have always been the best part (and the most frustrating part) of all these jobs. Being with them while they travel down the road of their illness, regardless of the outcome, has always the most satisfying part to me. I loved being able to make things better for them if I could. It always rankled me that I couldn't be there with the patient directly, but by becoming a nurse, I finally can.

Cause I sure as hell ain't going to medical school for the next 9 years.

So do any of you know how nurses become nurses? Or do they spring forth from the forehead of Zeus, like I’ve always imagined? Email me at

Spuriousplum at gmail dot com

or comment below and help a sister out. Cause I can’t wait to minister me some afflictions.
___________________________________
Random Fruit Fact: The Persimmon

"The ripe fruits are two to three inches in diameter, nearly always seedless, and pasty."

So if you like pastiness (hey, it takes all kinds), get your persimmon on. Learn more about the persimmon, here.

Posted by Spurious Nurse at 5/31/2005 02:44:00 PM 9 comments

Monday, May 30, 2005

Let us remember those who have fallen, and those who are falling still.

* Image courtesy of the Eyes Wide Open Exhibit
Wage Peace.

Posted by Spurious Nurse at 5/30/2005 11:41:00 AM 7 comments

Sunday, May 29, 2005

All Up In My Biz-naaaaasssss

It seems my uterus is in high demand these days. Whenever I see friend or family, strangers on the street or freaks at the circus, I'm asked the same question:

"So, are you and Mateo thinking about kids?"

It seems like an innocuous enough question the first, oh, TEN MILLION TIMES you hear it. After that, a little irritation sets in.

Don't get me wrong. I love me some babies. I'd even like to have one or two someday. But with Mateo fresh out of school, and me possibly going BACK to school for the next 5 years, we thought we could wait awhile.

People discuss my ovaries in the same tone of voice that they discuss the weather. "Sunny with partial clouding? And babies? Hot damn!" They act as if it's their socially obligatory RIGHT to know whether I plan on reproducing. When I mention the waiting until I'm done with school, I'm clucked at.

"You're going to be thirty, you need to think about your health!"
"Don't you want your parents to know their grandchildren?"
"It's never going to get any easier, you should just start now!"

"Everything OKAAAAY? There's specialists for that sort of thing, you know."
"You're ripe! Mate already!!!"

When did it become OK to inquire about someone's reproductive health? Hell, in most places you can't even nurse a baby in public, but folks can discuss my potential for conception, fertilization and the state of my reproductive organs with the greatest of social ease.

Since on many occasions the texplanationaination doesn't work (and apparently neither does saying "None of your DAMN business"), Mateo and I have the second line of defense:

Say that we believe in planned abortion.
Run screaming from the room.
Ambiguously mention Mateo's 'industrial accident' and start to cry.

When I mention that this makes me uncomfortable, I get:

"You're making a big deal out of nothing!"
"These folks just want the best for you."
"People just need something to talk about."


So just a heads up for the blog-universe: I'm fine. Reproductive system is fine. When Mateo and I create another person, we'll be sure to tell you all.

Smooches.
____________________________________
Random Fruit Fact: The Tayberry

"Fruit of the tayberry are borne on short, strong laterals on prickly canes 6 to 7 feet long."

Go ahead. Ask me when I'm having a baby, and watch me hit you with my 6-foot, prickly tayberry cane. Learn more about the vicious tayberry, here.

Posted by Spurious Nurse at 5/29/2005 08:54:00 PM 19 comments

Belated Stuff Friday

We left out camera cord in Cali, so these pics will have to do in a pinch

Religion = Good
This is Fred the Tree.

He's my own personal version of church. Until I can find a regular church I like enough to attend every week, Fred's providing serious inspiration. Great views, nice pine-y smell, the thrill of sort of hanging off a cliff. Fred definitely helps me see outside myself and appreciate the world. Which is kind of what religion is supposed to do. Right?

Inside of Fridge = Bad
This is our first batch of carne asada and salsa in Pittsburgh, and I apparently turned into a complete manic freak. Lucky Mateo was there to document my fat-armed version of Vanna White...

Posted by Spurious Nurse at 5/29/2005 07:44:00 PM 4 comments

Friday, May 27, 2005

Punching Mapquest in the Nizzies

I swear to God, if Mapquest was a person I’d punch him in the fucking nuts.

When Mateo decided to stay in LA for his interview, his subsequent flight changes were going to cost us $400.00. Boo. Luckily, we found a one-way flight from LA to Washington-Dulles for $100.00. Yay. We figured we’d still save some money if he flew into Dulles (3 1/2 hours away from Pittsburgh), and I’d pick him up. I’d never been to Washington DC before, so like a fool, I consulted Mr. Mapquest before my journey.

Which is how I wound up in the back hills of Ol’ Virginny, swearing to GOD that I could hear the banjos from Deliverance.

This isn’t the first time Mr. Mapquest has led me down the primrose path. As you type in your requests, a sensor determines whether you WANT or NEED to get someplace. If you NEED to be someplace, Mapquest takes extra care to get you as far away from that place as possible.

On this occasion, I NEEDed to get Mateo. This was NECESSARY. He can’t live at the airport for more than a few days, no matter what Tom Hanks did in that Terminal movie (did anyone actually watch that?).

I won’t bore you with the details of why Mapquest was wrong and deserves to have its kneecaps shot off, suffice it to say, everything eventually worked out (I called Papa Spurious for new directions from Clusterfuckberg to the airport), and Mateo was safely retrieved.

As I grumbled to Mateo about Mapquest’s shoddy treatment, he suggested, “We should totally get a Mapquest shirt made, and have someone wear it while you kick their ass.”

Ah, husband. I’ve missed you so.
________________________________________
Random Fruit Fact: The Snozzberry

For Echrai, who believes that lilly pillies should taste like these.

Willy Wonka: “…The snozzberries taste like snozberries…”
Veruca Salt: “Snozzberries??? Who ever heard of a snozzberry???”

Get a snozzberry shirt, here.

Posted by Spurious Nurse at 5/27/2005 08:38:00 AM 14 comments

Wednesday, May 25, 2005

My Anniversary

Today’s my anniversary. I can’t post pictures of my lovely man (he’s bashful), but I can write about him. Three years ago today, Mateo and I got married in front of everyone we’ve ever loved.



It sounds silly, but it really was the happiest day of my life. I got to marry the perfect man for me, and have a wonderful party with all my family and friends. Embarrassing speeches were given by uncles, lots of tasty food was served, and happy toasts were made.

Mateo can’t be with me today, as he’s interviewing in California, trying to make a better life for the two of us and to allow us to be home with our friends and family once again.



Mateo, your Mom always tells me how blessed we were to find one another, and my Mama always tells me we’re lucky.

I think it’s both. Lucky and blessed. Happy anniversary, mí amor. I still love you.

Amanda

Posted by Spurious Nurse at 5/25/2005 03:11:00 PM 19 comments

Tuesday, May 24, 2005

Hungover Grover

Back in Pittsburgh. Hooray...(see, that's sarcasm). Nothing caught on fire or exploded in my suitcase, so I consider the trip a success. Thanks for all the helpful packing tips, I plan on preaching the Ziploc gospel from the mountaintops!

The wedding Mateo and I attended in LA was awesomeawesomeawesome. Saw tons of people and the bride could not have been more beautiful. CONGRATS CATHY, WE'RE SO HAPPY AND PROUD OF YOU!

Mateo will be back on Thursday with the camera (he stayed behind for another interview), so I'll post some pictures then. It's probably good that the camera's out of town, since I feel, and probably look, like holy hell. That's right. I've got a travel hangover.

The perils of jetlag are well documented, but has anyone out there ever had a travel hangover? Not the kind that happens when you drink 15 mini bottles of Jim Beam on the plane and try to kiss the 65 year old stewardess, that's a regular hangover. The kind where you're just completely wiped out after a big trip?

When Mateo and I visit LA, our asses get chewed up and spit out. We usually wake up for breakfast with my parents at 6:30AM, since Mama & Papa Spurious are retired and subsequently wake up at the crack of a chicken's ass. During the course of the day, we visit friends, family and attend social events-like weddings. In the evening, we go out and act like morons with our friends until around 3AM. And then we get up at 6:30AM to begin the cycle anew.

Do that for 5-6 days and your body gets PISSED.

By the time the plane touched down last night, I felt like I'd been worked over by experts. Experts with headache bats and tummy-twisting vice grips.

I'm looking forward to some leek soup, and a nice night of sleep. But I miss Mateo...
________________________________
Random Fruit Fact: The Lilly Pilly

Yes. There really IS a fruit called the lilly pilly. Say it out loud, it's totally fun. Well, I may just think it's fun because of the travel hangover...

"The lilly pilly is about the size of a small marble, but fruit size does vary from one species to another. Although lilly pilly fruit is edible, it is not very tasty. However, it is delicious made into a chutney"

I kind of feel ripped off. Any fruit with a name that silly should taste like raspberry candy or something similarly goofy.

Learn more about the lilly pilly, and get a good recipe for lilly pilly jelly, here.

Posted by Spurious Nurse at 5/24/2005 12:12:00 PM 15 comments

Wednesday, May 18, 2005

Ready, Get Set...PACK!

Sorry for the non-blogging, I'm a total bastard. If you like excuses, Mateo and I are scurrying around getting ready for a trip to LA tomorrow, and we're trying to settle up the house and get everything packed.

I'm not an organized person, so I freak when packing for any journey lasting longer than the 8 hours I spend at work. Knowing what's absolutely necessary is not my strong suit, and as a result, I wind up taking the entire contents of our house. Just in case.

My latest packing strategy involves elaborate lists which contain every blessed item in the suitcase, so I can dramatically cross off each one as I pack. Sure, it sounds organized, any strategy with a list sounds organized, but I guarantee I'll be taking all sorts of useless items. Meaning I’ll wind up in LA with a hedgehog, a package of water balloons, 19 pairs of flip flops, and no pants.

On this trip my packing freakery level is up a notch, since Mateo's got two (!!!) interviews for librarian positions back in LA. We'd really like to get the HELL out of Pittsburgh in an expiditious fashion, so we're trying doubly hard to remember all his job stuff. Stuff like hand-typed applications and copies of diplomas/transcripts that prove he's an actual, factual librarian*. Stuff like ties and jackets and fancy shiny shoes. Hand lotion is not permitted to explode on these items.

We're also attending a wedding this trip (Congrats, C-Dawg!), which means fancy outfits and cute high heels. It means presents, greeting cards and driving directions. It means my sassy dress in a plastic bag so it doesn’t get trashed when my eye shadow breaks and covers the contents of our suitcase with a fine lavender dust.

After packing these items, we’ve got to get down on our damn knees to pray to the pagan shampoo volcano gods that my Bumble and Bumble doesn’t erupt all over Mateo’s freshly bond-paper printed resumes.

I think I’m freaking out.

*How the hell did they hire librarians before there were master's degrees? "We'll need a list of your favorite books, a copy of your birth certificate and a stool sample, thanks!".
______________________________________________
Random Fruit Fact: The Thimbleberry

“Thimbleberry derives its name from the shape of its fruit. The species name parviflorus means “small-flowered,” a curious choice for this shrub, whose flowers are among the largest in the genus. The fruits are important seasonal food for numerous birds and mammals, including bears, and are a welcome, if not inspired, trailside snack.”

Hmm. Thimbles… Maybe I should take a sewing kit too…or an entire seamstress. Do they let you take people in your carry-on? Learn more about the thimbleberry, here.

Posted by Spurious Nurse at 5/18/2005 09:38:00 PM 30 comments

Saturday, May 14, 2005

It's A Dead Man's Potty, Who Could Ask For More?

I'm a regular reader of Dad Gone Mad (you should totally be one too). In one of his recent posts he discussed the ever-so-delicate topic of evacuating ones bowels in a 7-11 bathroom. A tribulation I've (fortunately) never had to go through.

Unlike lots of other poor folks, the Spurious digestive system purrs like a kitten. People in the Family Spurious are all business about that kinda stuff. Because of this, I never really understood jokes about people reading on the can until college, when I had roommates who took FORTY-FIVE minutes to lay it down. All kinds of hitherto unthought of questions suddenly sprung up. Like how can you get comfy enough to read with your pants around your knees? And if you're only going to be in there 45 seconds, why even BRING a book?

Being thus blessed, I've only encountered two bathroom issues,

A.) The inability of the female populace to urinate without floating above the seat and flooding it.
and

B.) My amazing propensity for getting locked in men's rooms when I reeeeeeally have to pee.

My career of men's room infiltration and subsequent detention began in Jr. High, on a family vacation to San Francisco for 4th of July. I really, reeeeeeally had to pee and Papa Spurious stopped at a Taco Bell. The bathrooms wound up being the kind that eat quarters like a gumball machine, so after procuring a quarter from Papa Spurious (this indicates how bad I had to go. If Papa S. was willing to give me MONEY to pee, I must've really begged), I ran up to the women's room, almost dancing with I-need-to-pee fervor.

To my horror, the money part of the lock was taped over with masking tape on which some ass had written 'Out Of Service." I danced back to the car under the light of booming fireworks and asked my parents what to do. Mama Spurious suggested, " Just use the men's room..."

I wiggled with pee and disbelief. "Really?"

"Go ahead," said Mama S. conspiratorially, "No one'll see."

Squirming my way over to the men's room, I threw in my quarter, flung open the reinforced steel door and dashed inside. It smelled like burritos in the men's room. ALOT. Up for debate was whether the burrito smell came from burritos, or from someplace more nefarious. I didn't care. It was clean, and I had a lovely, relieving time.

After I washed up, I pushed on the steel door, feeling happy and ready to see some fireworks. Nothing happened. I turned the handle and pulled, just in case I was being a dork by pushing on a pull-type door. Nothing. Wiggled the handle, hoping the lock would catch. Nada. Shit.

I spent the next 20 minutes pounding on the steel door as fireworks boomed outside. I tried kicking, thumping and shouting at the top of my lungs for help, and got zilch. Just when I'd begun to think I'd be held captive for the rest of my days, the door suddenly opened. A very surprised looking man stood there, with fireworks exploding behind his head in the evening sky. I've never been so happy to see someone I didn't know in my entire life. He was my toilet savior.

Before he could get out more than,"Uhhhhh..." I dashed past him into the parking lot, embarrassed as hell, and hopped into the Spuriousmobile. "Finally!" shouted Papa S.

"I got locked in the men's room! I've been trying to get out for the last 20 minutes!"

Ah," said Mama S., " That's what took so long. We though you fell in."

"Why didn't you guys come check on me? Didn't you hear me? I was making deals with Greek gods offering up my firstborn child in a desperate plea for freedom! Why didn't you help?"

"Must've been the fireworks," said Papa pulling out of the parking lot, "We never heard a thing."

Because I was 13 and completely self-absorbed, it wasn't until weeks after the Taco Bell incident that I realized my savior had probably been trapped in the bathroom too, after I left. He's probably still there.

Since the fateful day when I lost my locked-in-a-men's-bathroom virginity, I've become a total trapped-in-a-men's-bathroom slut. I've gotten locked into more men's rooms than I can count. In Banana Republic. At the library. On a date at a fancy restaurant. On the 2nd floor of my high school, the list is endless.

It's not like I'm seeking out men's rooms on purpose either, I only use them when the women's room is 'Out of Service". Which is usually because some chick peed all over the seat.
___________________________________________________
Random Fruit Fact: The Olallieberry

"Physically the Olallieberry looks like a classic blackberry. Genetically, however, the Olallieberry is approximately two-thirds blackberry and one-third European Red Raspberry. Eaten fresh, Olallieberries are excellent, however most are made into preserves and wine. "

Don't drink too much or you'll have to pee, and you never know where that'll take you. Learn more about the Olallieberry, here.

Posted by Spurious Nurse at 5/14/2005 08:56:00 PM 15 comments

Friday, May 13, 2005

Never Was Good At Fighting Peer Pressure


I'm pink
Originally uploaded by Spuriousplum.
Since all the hip kids are doing it (and because all these pics would take too long to load), I've jumped on the Flickr bandwagon.

Come check out pics from a trip Mateo and I took to Hartwood Acres, PA last weekend.

Or not, cause there's no fruit.

Off to drink beer. Have an awesome Friday night!

Posted by Spurious Nurse at 5/13/2005 07:45:00 PM 4 comments

Thursday, May 12, 2005

This'll Embarrass Me More Than It'll Embarrass You

In a week, Mateo and I will be taking trip home to L.A. to attend a wedding, and I got myself a sassy dress. Ahoy, thar be my dress!


* Addendum: not me wearing the dress. I'm much whiter.*

I'll also be wearing big, dangly earrings and a flower in my hair. I'll also be wearing a sweater, so my arm fat won't softly flap in the California breeze.

But I have a problem. I'm stacked, but not stacked enough to fill out the tube toppy thing. The fact that my prudy ass is wearing anything I can call a 'tube toppy thing' is a miracle, but that's a separate post. To fix the tube toppy thing, I headed on down Lord Duncan Dry Cleaners (1st place winners of the 'Most Inventive Dry Cleaning Moniker' contest) for alterations.

A nice, smiley lady ushered me from the front counter into an alterations room, chirping, "You just put your dress on, and I'll be right back."

I didn't wear the "special undies" (strapless bra, etc) that I'll be wearing at the event, so when I zipped up I had major granny bra sticking out of my dress. I was a little embarrassed, but figured, "It's just me and Miss Smiley McChirp-Chirp here. I bet she's got granny-bras too."

As I'm talking to myself (like a loon), some 65 year old DUDE strolls into the fitting room and shouts, "OK!!!!!!!!!, I measure you!!!!!!!!!!" He's screaming, and more importantly, he's a GUY.

Prudy Spurious Brain says:
Um, WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU, DUDE? I was talking to a lady, and the lady said, "I'll be right back." I'm pretty sure she didn't just cut off her boobs and have a sudden attack of male pattern baldness in the last five minutes, so you're NOT HER. EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!

Spurious Mouth says:
"Um, hi."

Shouting Alterations Guy catches sight of my granny bra and quickly looks away, blushing. He looks around the room for a while, trying to find something to focus on that's not weird for both of us, and settles on my super pink, flip-flop clad feet, shouting, "Raise arms!!!!!!!!!!!!"

During the next 10 minutes, Shouting Alterations Guy doesn't look at anything but my feet. He pins something into place, turns me towards the mirror and stares at my toes, "Look in mirror!!!!!!!!! Looks good!?!?!?!?" And it did. I don't know how he did it, but he managed to alter my dress without directly looking at me, or the dress. Ever.

He finished and shouted, "Please change!!!!!!!!!!" and both of us bolted like a horses at the racetrack. I popped into my clothes and ran out to the register, in a high state of prudy freak out, puffing,"When can I pick it up?"

"Tuesday is fine."

"Who was that guy, anyway?"

She gives me a quizzical look. "Um..."

"The guy who measured me?"

"Um."

"Nevermind."

Maybe it was Lord Duncan...
______________________________________________
Random Fruit Fact: The Mulberry

"The mulberry (Morus spp.), a deciduous fairly fast-growing tree, can become large and very spreading. It produces clusters of small berry-like fruit in the axils of the leaves. The fruit is first green, then pink, finally becoming crimson or purple-red. Mulberries can be eaten fresh, stewed, or made into jams. The leaves are well known as the food for silkworms."

Anyone else have silkworms in elementary school? Learn more about the mulberry, here.

Posted by Spurious Nurse at 5/12/2005 09:42:00 PM 14 comments

Wednesday, May 11, 2005

All My Leek Bitches, Say HO!

Anyone like leeks?



I love all the fruit of the world equally, but I play favorites with veggies, and this is mine. Kinda like a mild onion, kinda like...well, just tasty. Anyway, courtesy of Mateo, #1 spouse, tonight was homemade leek soup night. And people, you get the receta (that's recipe in spanish):

Sopa de Porro y Arroz
(Leek and Rice Soup)

Ingredients
1 Tbsp olive oil
2 large leeks white and pale green parts only washed and thinly cut crosswise
(about 2 cups)
2 med garlic cloves, finely chopped
1 medium carrot, peeled and diced into ¼ inch slices
½ tsp cumin
1/8 tsp crushed red pepper
½ tsp salt or to taste
4 cups chicken broth
¼ cup long grain white rice
2 Tbsps chopped cilantro/flat leaf parsley
1 Tbsp water

Equipment
1 pointy knife for serious veggie chopping
1 big pot for soup stirring

Heat oil in your big pot over medium-low heat. Add Mr. Leek, and his friend Mr. Garlic, and 1 tablespoon of water. Cook them up, ignoring their piteous screams, stirring frequently until floppy and tender, 6-8 minutes. Add remaining ingredients to your big pot and bring to a boil. Cover and reduce heat to simmer, until veggies and rice are tender, about 15 minutes. Adjust seasoning if you're a salt freak (like me).

Chow the fuck down.


__________________________________
Random Veg Fact: The Leek

"With a more delicate and sweeter flavor than onions, leeks add a subtle touch to recipes without overpowering the other flavors that are present. Although leeks are available throughout the year they are in season from the fall through the early part of spring when they are at their best."

So it's not a fruit. In the immortal words of your mother, "quit crying, or I'll give you something to cry about." Learn more about the majesty of Mr. Leek, here.

Yum!

Posted by Spurious Nurse at 5/11/2005 08:50:00 PM 13 comments

What Would I Be - Courtesy of the Queen of the Big Top

Circus Kelli, Queen of the Big Top, tagged me with this fun listy thing. Thanks CK, IT'S ON!

I’m supposed to choose 5 things from this here list and complete a subsequent “If I could be . . .” thought. Then I tag three other folks to keep it truckin’. I've highlighted my answers, because it makes me feel important, and egotism's sexy, no? Here goes:

If I could be a scientist
If I could be a farmer
If I could be a musician
If I could be a doctor
If I could be a painter

If I could be a gardener, my yard would look like a nuclear test site, since I have the blackest thumb in this great nation. If I could be a GOOD gardener, I’d grow hydrangeas and peonies, fruits and veggies, all manner of pretty/tastiness. But then I’d be Greenie, and there’s only one Greenie. I guess I’ll just embrace my unique badness with plants and keep the black ol' thumb.

If I could be an architect
If I could be a linguist
If I could be a psychologist

If I could be an athlete, I'd probably have a smaller ass.

If I could be a lawyer
If I could be a professor
If I could be a world famous blogger
If I could be a justice on any one court in the world
If I could be married to any current famous political figure

If I could be a missionary, I'd develop a better position. Oh, and I'd foster world peace, end hunger and all that jazz. But without any of that "you have to accept my religion before we'll help you, you heathens" stuff.

If I could be a writer
If I could be an innkeeper
If I could be a chef

If I could be a llama-rider, I'd lead llama riding tours in unexpected locations. "Now if you lean forward in the saddle, you'll see the Eiffel tower on your left. We'll be breaking for lunch now, and if you'll all open your tassled saddlebags, you'll find champagne and a baguette. Meet back here in 20, and we'll start our trek through the Louvre. Now may also be a good time to take your llama on a potty break."

If I could be an astronaut
If I could be a librarian

If I could be a bonnie pirate, wait…I AM a bonnie pirate. Arrrr!

So Caroline, Echrai and SFG ya'll are oficially tag-a-lagged, but no need to feel all obligated. Have fun if you wanna, and if you don’t wanna...make sure you’re inventive when you're cursing my name.

Arr!

Posted by Spurious Nurse at 5/11/2005 08:46:00 PM 3 comments

Tuesday, May 10, 2005

And Now A Word From Mateo - Harold Y Kumar

Our friend Tyler’s a fan of stupid comedies (his term), and is also a current new Jersey resident. So when Harold and Kumar Go to Whitecastle came out, he was positively giddy. He loved the movie and recommended it highly.

Many months later, the movie was released on DVD and I reserved it through my local library’s Online Public Access Catalog (librarian plug). I was 140th on the waiting list, but that didn’t discourage me, or prompt me use the local Blockbuster, since getting movies from the library is:

A. Free, and
B. A pleasant surprise. Often, you forget what you ordered and it’s like finding buried library treasure.

I watched the movie with my lovely, legally bound spouse Spurious(ah, holy matrimony) and called Tyler to discuss:

“So, I finally watched Harold and Kumar.” says I.

“Watcha think?” Says he.

“It did the great state of Jersey justice, though I didn’t recognize much from the times I’ve visited. I recognized those damn toll buckets that take exactly 35 cents, though.”

“It’s funny,” says Tyler, “when Harold visits the hospital after being attacked by the crazy puppet raccoon in the City of Princeton, they take him to Westmoreland Hospital. He should’ve gone to Princeton Hospital. Also, they go all the way to Cherry Hill to find a Whitecastle when there are about a hundred Whitecastles that are closer.”

“Yeah, that must seem unrealistic to a native. What I found unrealistic was our protaganists getting a cheetah high on chronic, and riding it at full cheetah speed. You’d think that the weight of two full-grown, stoned adults would slow a kitty down somewhat...But I've really no clue what a stoned cheetah is capable of.”

"Of course."

Another case in which great cinema inspires boffo discussion.

Posted by Spurious Nurse at 5/10/2005 09:25:00 PM 12 comments

Monday, May 09, 2005

Hooray! Taco Time!

As I’ve previously mentioned, Pittsburgh is almost completely devoid of Mexican food.

Mateo and I softly weep at night, knowing that we possess the intestinal fortitude to handle tasty things like menudo and salsa, but that our tummies are going to waste because of Pittsburgh’s quashing of all tasty/spicy food.

Each time a new ‘Mexican’ restaurant opens, Mateo and I are beside ourselves with joy:

Me: “The paper says they’re authentic!”
Mateo: “Yum! Let’s go right now!”
Me: “I’m gonna get chilaquiles!”
Matt: “Hooray!”*

And each time, we find guacamole squeezed from tubes, chips and salsa that aren’t free (!), sucky canned refried beans, chipotle sauce that tastes suspiciously like KC Masterpiece, and tortillas made in another state. We turn into total snobs and act grumpy for the rest of the day:

Me: “I can’t believe they said they were authentic.”
Mateo: “Authentically crappy, maybe.”
Me: “I’m not feeling so good, maybe I shouldn’t have eaten the 6 pounds of fake jack cheese on that sorry-ass enchilada”
Me: “Buncha posers.”

We swear we’ll never fall for it again, that we’ll be completely dispassionate, but our desperation gets the best of us. 2 months later, we’re at it again:

Mateo: “Dude, I saw a sign for a Mexican food place! It had an Aztec temple on it!”
Me: “Yay! Let’s go right now!”

Repeat this whole process about 20 times, and you’ve encapsulated the ups and downs of the entirety of our Pittsburgh Mexican food experience.

Which is why we were delighted, but trepiditious when Mateo saw a sign reading ‘Taqueria De Mi Mexico’ five blocks from our house.

Mateo: “Hey, that sign’s in spanish!”
Me: “Mexican food?”
Mateo: “For REAL Mexican food?
Me: “That we can walk to from our house?”
Mateo: “Madre de Dios!” **

We went inside and saw a sea of brown people eating tasty things and speaking spanish. A dam broke inside me and I almost collapsed with relief. It was a REAL taqueria. With tortas, al pastor, and lengua (which I can't bring myself to eat, but which I use to verify the credentials of potential ‘authentic Mexican' restaurants).

I had chorizo and eggs, with yummy black beans and homemade tortillas. Mateo had the biggest torta I’ve ever seen on fresh baked bread. We had guava jarritos and a big old concha for dessert. We were burping up tasty flavors for hours, and it was delicious.

So of course it shows up 3 months before we leave town.

*Yeah, it's paraphrased, but I'm trying to capture the joy and pain, OK, people?
** Mateo's never said 'Madre De Dios' in his life.
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Random Fruit Fact: The Guava

Jarritos guava soda’s good, but actual, factual guavas are even better.

“Upon ripening, the guava becomes soft and juicy. It may be eaten fresh, made into a juice or nectar contain fruit pulp, or made into preserves, jam, jelly, or paste. The guava is an excellent source of C vitamin.”

And vitamin C’s good, because scurvy sucks serious ass. Learn more about the guava, here.

Posted by Spurious Nurse at 5/09/2005 11:46:00 AM 17 comments

Saturday, May 07, 2005

Another Fashion Bitch Slap

Stretch pants are bad. No, really.

Some believe that the good name of strech pants has been befouled by the fashion choices of voluptuous women, but don't fall for it. Don't blame the curvy ladies, they take enough shit. Uh-uh, I'm an equal opportunity stretch pant hater.

Stretch pants aren't just horrible for 'certain body types’, they're actively bad on EVERYONE. I'll repeat that for the benefit of the unfortunate stretch pant viewing public:

STRETCH PANTS ARE BAD ON EVERYONE.

If Juliette Freaking Lewis can't pull this shit off,



what kind of chance do normal human beings have?

Now before someone jumps up and protests, let me be clear. Unlike the fruit boots issue, I'm unwilling to make concessions on this one. I'm holding the line. Stretch pants are ALL bad.

They're an abomination with fringes, in patterns, in denim, or in pleather. Icky every day, and in every way. Solid colors suck too.

I've heard the excuses.

'I'm just going to the market for 5 minutes.'
'I'm using them as pyjamas.'
'I'm pregnant, and nothing else fits.'
'I take a yoga class and they allow freedom of muuuuuuuuuuuvment.'

Horsepucky. They'll always wind up bunched around your knees, and stuffed so far up into the reproductive netherworld of your croch that you'll think you're giving birth to the antichrist. Demon cameltoe (aided and abetted by his friend Mr. Spandex, of course) is here to crash your stretch pant party, squeezing things into public view that just shouldn't be seen.

Oh, and just as a heads up, when your pants are INSIDE YOU and you reach for that box of Special K in the supermarket, I can see your uterus.

To review, here are the people who can't wear stretch pants:
No one can wear them. Not curvy people, or petite people, or babies (baby's cute, not the pants), or dudes, or pregnant ladies, or baseball players, or punk rockers, or even on famous people (see poor Juliette). Nobody, dammit!

Here are just a few of the places it's NOT OK to wear stretch pants:
Not OK in yoga class, or for running, or at the market, or even at the ren-faire. It’s NEVER OK.

Not convinced? Take a picture of yourself. Now look at that picture and remember how hot you though you looked in your bicycle pants with suspenders in th eearly 90's.

I'll get the scissors.
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Random Fruit Fact: Strech Fruit Leather

"Stretch Island Fruit Leather™ is simply dried fruit in a bar.A convenient, portable fruit, in your pocket…without the squish! "

See? Bet they make pants too. It ain't natural.Learn more about fruit leather (gah!), here.

Posted by Spurious Nurse at 5/07/2005 10:50:00 PM 17 comments

Friday, May 06, 2005

Belated Self Portrait Day - How To Annoy Me

Not really self portrait-y, but wanna know how to annoy me?

Don't Let Me Take


Your Freaking Picture


OK. I promise actually stop posting pics and start writing nice blog posts soon. It's been a hairy week.
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Random Fruit Fact: The Wax Jambu

Eating things containing the word 'wax' is usually a bad deal, but this sounds intriguing:

"The ripe, pink fruits are small (about 3/4 - 1" / 2- 2.5cm) long, sweet and can be eaten fresh or cooked, for sauces, jams and jellies. Green fruits are eaten raw with salt."

Maybe they're like freaky little limes. Next time you're in Southeast Asia, try a wax jambu some with tequila, and find out if it's any good (in the interest of unofficial fruit research, of course). Learn more about the wax jambu, here.

Posted by Spurious Nurse at 5/06/2005 07:14:00 PM 4 comments

Thursday, May 05, 2005

¡Happy Cinco De Mayo! - or - ¡Get Your Fucking Piñata On!

¡Yay, Cinco De Mayo!

Attached, please find pictures of Mateo and I celebrating the holiday traditionally at our local Target. You know. With piñatas!







While we running around Target like a pair of ass clowns, we noticed something strange, or at least I did. I now firmly belive that there's a huge Target fruit conspiracy afoot.

Fruit is fucking EVERYWHERE in Target. It’s here:



There:


Everywhere:


I found the following fruity objects on Target's site (careful, some of this shit's ugly): bowls, platters , stuff for Strawberry Shortkake's dining room table, clocks, ugly-ass screens, lights (both stringy and otherwise), fruity little kid cars, baby toys, bags, even fruity shower radios. This all took exactly 6 seconds to find, so I'm guessing the Target folks are sitting on enough fruity booty to sink a produce-filled ship.

Is someone from Target reading my crap-ass blog? Am I on the FBI's top ten fruit criminals list? Or is Isaac Mizrahi finally grasping the awesome power of a well-tailored fruit?

Just what in the fruity hell is going on?
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Random Fruit Fact: The Carambola

"There are some specimens of the tree in special collections in the Caribbean islands, Central America, tropical South America, and also in West Tropical Africa and Zanzibar. Several trees have been growing since 1935 at the Rehovoth Research Station in Israel. In many areas, it is grown more as an ornamental than for it's fruits. "

'Central America' means México, bitches! Learn more about the carambola, here.

¡Viva México!

Posted by Spurious Nurse at 5/05/2005 07:21:00 PM 16 comments

Tuesday, May 03, 2005

Taggers Ate My Baby

I have a meme-y, tag-y thing, courtesy of Suburban Misfit's dirty ass (don't take that literally, I have it on good authority, her ass is spotless).

Can't bring myself to forward it along, but Mateo and I went nutty for about 15 minutes coming up with lovely poems. Here's the highlights.

Turd in a punch bowl,
Hey, what's in the grog?
Turd in a punch bowl,
That's one mighty log.

Turd in a punch bowl,
You ruined my life,
Turd in a punch bowl,
You banged my wife.

Turd in a punch bowl,
Glass poo repository,
Turd in a punch bowl,
Watch out for my suppository.

Turd in a punch bowl,
From my Quisinart,
Turd in a punch bowl,
Goes well with cheese and art.

Turd in a punch bowl,
I want it all,
Turd in a punch bowl,
I slap my balls.

And finally, one for Susie:

Turd in a punch bowl,
I've got a hunch.
Turd in a punch bowl,
Motherfucker stole my lunch.

Posted by Spurious Nurse at 5/03/2005 09:05:00 PM 19 comments

Ask, And Ye Shall Receive

Here you go:



What? It's totally me.
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Random Fruit Fact: Juicy Juicy Mangos

Cause, well...uh...yeah. Those are totally mine.

"Mango fruits are luscious, aromatic, and slightly acid."

Except for the last part about the acid, this is totally true...You can learn more about the mangos that DON'T belong to me, here, but be advised, there's some non-mango-related popups. Make sure your non-mango-related popup blocker is on.

Posted by Spurious Nurse at 5/03/2005 08:19:00 PM 5 comments

Monday, May 02, 2005

Heeeeeeeeeey, Girrrrl!

So I got this cute little Jones New York blouse that makes me feel like Maggie Gyllenhaal’s fatter, more stylistically challenged sister. Which sounds bad, but is actually totally a good thing. I couldn’t find a picture of my new blouse online, but it’s made out of rayon and is all vintage and flippy looking. Yummy. I decide to wear it to work, with super high heels, jeans and a sweater. Feeling seriously quirky/cute, thank you so much.

As I walk down the alleyway to lunch, a HUGE truck pulls up and blocks my path. A typical look-at-what-I-got-to-overcompensate-for-my-small-penis truck. As I walk around it (since it’s hogging up the whole alleyway), a truly fat, slimy dude leans out of the truck window and shouts, “Heeeeeey, girl!”

I look around to see if he’s being nasty to someone else, cause it couldn’t be me. I never think it’s me. People can honk, wave, shout, flip me off or get shot right in front of me, but I'll never see them, cause I never think it has anything to do with me. I'm self centered that way. It’s a gift.

Mr. Trucknastiness continues, “You’re looking guuuuuud……what’s your name?”

And since I’m Spurious, the Queen Of The Snappy Comeback I say, “Uh…”

“Girl, are you married? Cuz if yur not…”

“Hell yes, I am! Bye!”

Whereupon I begin hustling/walking really fast down the alley in high heels. In case you’re unaware, hustling in high heels looks stupid. Yet as I run, Mr. Trucknastiness yells after me, “Yeah, girl! Yeah!!!”

Yuck.

As I hustle my way into Baja Fresh for my lunch (tortilla soup with chicken, 6 limes and a big ass root beer), I approach the mirrored salsa bar and finally catch a glimpse of myself.

My boobs are bouncing around like a jailyard tetherball.

As I walk, the lethal combination of my flippy rayon shirt and ludicrously high heels make my rack look like two furiously shaking water balloons, taped to my chest.

Lemme know if you need a picture.

Posted by Spurious Nurse at 5/02/2005 03:59:00 PM 19 comments