Sunday scramble.
The line this morning at Tal Bagels is long but ridiculously efficient. The ten bagel guys behind the counter flow like a trapeze act. They have a damn good system, and this place has damn good bagels.
There's a British-accented conversation going on behind me about the grotesquely oversized muffins in the case. "They look mutant," "do you think they're tasty?"
An English muffin, as every dutiful American supermarket shopper knows, is quite small.
A baby shouts behind me, no words yet. "Please be patient and attentive. This is the very best I can do for now. Perhaps sometime next year I'll have mastered a fifty-word lexicon and will be able to inquire with polite elegance as to the whereabouts of my bottle and whether I might impose upon you to kindly hand it to me, but until then, all I've got is AAAAHHWWWWHHHAAAA!"
There's an open table and I take it with my ruffly-plated FLAGEL. This is a flat bagel. Into a bit of flagellation here, har har.
Today is Super Bowl Sunday, which I thought was back in November. Who knew? Been a bit out of touch, maybe. Was the Janet Jackson wardrobe malfunction only one year ago? It seems like longer. Maybe last year's halftime show flew by eventlessly. I personally would rather not see any breasts. I am not big on seeing strange naked bodies, male or female, without a good and direct reason. I think men are more easily titillated. OH-wa!
This is a nice FLAGEL. Flat bialy=flialy. Flat croissant=floissant. This game is too easy. I wonder what is the most popular bagel variety here, but not enough to find the manager and ask. People seem to be asking for "everything bagels." They want it alllll, baby. With lite scallion cream cheese.
Overheard yesterday in a Jersey diner: a lady discussing her intended meal with her husband. "How bout a noyce piece-a meat and a noyce patayta?"
How bout it? I guess in Texas, she'd have been "Fixin teh hayav some barbeekyoo!" to the equally vehement approbation of her marital partner.
Lovvvvve to eavesdrop. Love. It.
If I had a scientific mind, and a lot intellectual stamina, I'd probably be one of those insane mathematicians obsessed with the movements of everything in the universe and their patterns. Conveniently big on patterns. And generalizations. There's a fantastic article in the New Yorker this week about generalizations and how they're often misused. It's by the guy who wrote "The Tipping Point" and "Blink," two books that I've picked up but couldn't run with. The article focuses mostly on dog attacks and the singling-out of pit bulls. It was so clever, so well written and so good. And when I saw the byline at the end I thought well, so that's what the big fuss over him is all about.
It's interesting to find the commonalities in things and people. Like, you and she both have square jaws and both enjoy potatoes and hate corn. So will you both respond the same way to this? I don't believe that anything is random, but I'm not yet sure whether to discredit the notion of 'luck.' I do think that some things are inevitable (aside of death and taxes--oh Dorothy P, we love you although you did not love yourself) and that everything moves in trends, on different frequencies.
One of my best friends' husband is an electrical engineer who develops high-frequency oscilloscopes. I asked his colleague this weekend at their dinner party if the government ever asks for anything. The answer I got was casual: 'oh, the military asks for the strangest things.' He continued to distribute garlic on the pizza he was making and didn't elaborate.
There's a British-accented conversation going on behind me about the grotesquely oversized muffins in the case. "They look mutant," "do you think they're tasty?"
An English muffin, as every dutiful American supermarket shopper knows, is quite small.
A baby shouts behind me, no words yet. "Please be patient and attentive. This is the very best I can do for now. Perhaps sometime next year I'll have mastered a fifty-word lexicon and will be able to inquire with polite elegance as to the whereabouts of my bottle and whether I might impose upon you to kindly hand it to me, but until then, all I've got is AAAAHHWWWWHHHAAAA!"
There's an open table and I take it with my ruffly-plated FLAGEL. This is a flat bagel. Into a bit of flagellation here, har har.
Today is Super Bowl Sunday, which I thought was back in November. Who knew? Been a bit out of touch, maybe. Was the Janet Jackson wardrobe malfunction only one year ago? It seems like longer. Maybe last year's halftime show flew by eventlessly. I personally would rather not see any breasts. I am not big on seeing strange naked bodies, male or female, without a good and direct reason. I think men are more easily titillated. OH-wa!
This is a nice FLAGEL. Flat bialy=flialy. Flat croissant=floissant. This game is too easy. I wonder what is the most popular bagel variety here, but not enough to find the manager and ask. People seem to be asking for "everything bagels." They want it alllll, baby. With lite scallion cream cheese.
Overheard yesterday in a Jersey diner: a lady discussing her intended meal with her husband. "How bout a noyce piece-a meat and a noyce patayta?"
How bout it? I guess in Texas, she'd have been "Fixin teh hayav some barbeekyoo!" to the equally vehement approbation of her marital partner.
Lovvvvve to eavesdrop. Love. It.
If I had a scientific mind, and a lot intellectual stamina, I'd probably be one of those insane mathematicians obsessed with the movements of everything in the universe and their patterns. Conveniently big on patterns. And generalizations. There's a fantastic article in the New Yorker this week about generalizations and how they're often misused. It's by the guy who wrote "The Tipping Point" and "Blink," two books that I've picked up but couldn't run with. The article focuses mostly on dog attacks and the singling-out of pit bulls. It was so clever, so well written and so good. And when I saw the byline at the end I thought well, so that's what the big fuss over him is all about.
It's interesting to find the commonalities in things and people. Like, you and she both have square jaws and both enjoy potatoes and hate corn. So will you both respond the same way to this? I don't believe that anything is random, but I'm not yet sure whether to discredit the notion of 'luck.' I do think that some things are inevitable (aside of death and taxes--oh Dorothy P, we love you although you did not love yourself) and that everything moves in trends, on different frequencies.
One of my best friends' husband is an electrical engineer who develops high-frequency oscilloscopes. I asked his colleague this weekend at their dinner party if the government ever asks for anything. The answer I got was casual: 'oh, the military asks for the strangest things.' He continued to distribute garlic on the pizza he was making and didn't elaborate.
posted by yaeligirl at 12:26 PM
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