Capricious Me

Today, while driving to Safeway I had to wait for a young couple to cross the street. I was absolutely disgusted by what I saw.

The female’s hands were empty. Her apparently well trained boyfriend, however, was not so lucky. He held in his left hand, with no detectable hint of rancor, her small pink purse.

Alright, so let’s play devil’s advocate against myself first. Clearly, if he’s happy to hold her purse as a symbol of affection, who am I to judge? Why shouldn’t he hold her purse? Maybe he volunteered. Isn’t chivalry sweet? That’s where my generosity ends.

That poor guy… my first thought was, “Wow. Totally whipped.” Why humiliate your boyfriend like that? It wasn’t even a semi-respectable tote bag that he could pass off as his environmentally friendly shopping tool. It was full-on girly-pink purse that held little besides a wallet. The judgmental feminist in me wants to ask this female, “Did you injure your hands? Do you have some sort of physical defect that prevents you from carrying this small item? Are you actually carrying several loads of invisible groceries that I cannot see because of my nearsightedness and the glare from the setting sun?” There’s no reason not to carry your own damn bag and it’s the epitome of self-indulgent delusions of grandeur and selfishness to make your boyfriend look ridiculous just so you feel like he reaaaally cares.

I admit to having Mike help me carry things if my hands are full or if they’re too heavy, but I would never make him carry my purse if I had the ability to do so myself and I NEVER WILL. You see, there’s a difference between being helpful or sweet and enabling your girlfriend’s princess syndrome.

Kemper stairwells smell more foul than usual today… they varnished something or other. I can’t tell the difference because it looks as dirty and old as ever. Ugh. Smells like someone went crazy with permanent markers. Bah. Kemper stairwell is the land of bad smells.

Sarabi’s raised the bar yet again when it comes to thieving. Earlier this week, she stole Lynn’s lunch and devoured all the packets of seaweed (the yummy kind) but had the sense to leave the wrapping and silica gel alone. This morning, my mother put Lynn’s lunch as far back on the counter as she could. This tactic worked previously, but no longer. As I heard the pitter patter of little paws running from the direction of the living room to the kitchen, I thought, “Oh, right. I haven’t given her the morning treat yet.” The morning treat usually consists of part of a cookie or some other little snack. She ran right past me towards my parent’s bathroom (her favorite spot to sit on a rug and eat some treat) with something in her mouth and her tail raised high, which was always a sign that she was Up to No Good. The chase was brief and I rescued Lynn’s sandwich, still untouched, though the bag was covered in Sarabi saliva.

She must have gone around and jumped on the kitchen counter from the dining room side to reach the sandwich. Smart puppy!

Of course, this incident pales in comparison to the time she nonchalantly grabbed the croissant Sera held in her hand – a mugging, if you will.

– Update
Oh no… No more figs!!

Men are from Google, Women are from Yahoo has got to be the most ridiculous article ever. So aside from looking at the sports stuff… (oh, actually… i looked at sports stuff during Olympics) I fit the profile of a male internet user, according to this article… It seems to be a thinly veiled way of saying that women don’t really know how to take advantage of all there is on the Internet, because women are primarily concerned with social aspects. ’cause everyone knows that the concept of doing anything beyond email, looking up directions, health tips or spiritual guidance should be SO foreign to the housewives.

WTF???

The plan is to be back in Davis by New Year’s Eve… so I can meet my soon to be good friend – Fondue. And the people around, of course. :-P

Went shopping today… Oh Express, how I’ve missed you! and had tons of SUSHI… Humina humina! This little piggy’s quite satisfied, so I’ll leave you guys with a question: What is it about aging that suddenly makes grotesque patterns such as leopard print in blinding colors like hot pink bearable for women? Someone’s gotta be buying those things if they keep coming out with them. Who? Why??

So… lights around Davis campus seem to extinguish themselves as I walk past them. This is happened several times. Repeatedly.

Astronomers discover a 10th planet and of all the possible dignified names, they choose… XENA as a nickname?? And they name its moon GABRIELLE??? What a sad, sad reflection on our values if the names stick. If it were up to me, I would continue with the trend of using names from Roman mythology. They haven’t exhausted the entire pantheon yet…

On my way to the train station yesterday, I saw a guy sweeping in the street, wearing a SKIRT. And not a possibly-scottish-ok-for-males-kilt skirt, but kneelength colorful jagged bottom unequivocally meant-for-females skirt.

Then today, on the BART, there was a man behind me talking rather loudly on his cellphone, so it was impossible for me and the girls in front of me not to overhear this conversation that i would MUCH RATHER not have heard. The weirdo parts were… well, the extremely cheesy things he said trying to sound romantic… and then he mentioned a husband, and started talking about how he wanted to feel her. Physically. On a public train. With two teenage girls and a preteen girl and me within earshot. Ew. EW. EWW!!!