About that communication thing
So about that communication thing you humans are always recommending? I tried it today. I don’t see what the fuss is about. See, in relationshippy things I’m of the mind that if you have to ask you probably already know and so why put either party through the discomfort of the unpleasant conversation. And yet because it’s just a probability and not a certainty, it’s not that uncommon for me to spend weeks on the tail end of something unsure whether it’s over or not. I get stuck in the relationship’s muffin top! But instead of saying anything like, “Hey, I couldn’t help but notice we haven’t gone out in four weeks, that means this is over even though you’re still emailing and texting me, right?” I opt to play it cool and give the guy his space and then one day I’ll find out he has a new girlfriend and I’ll realize that yes, I was right and it was over between us. And the fact that I even care will be a surprise to him because if I cared why didn’t I say something? So you see where I’m coming from in that you probably have no idea where I’m coming from.
But today the uncertainty of a certain situation which is not along the lines of the above as it’s not even a relationship but just a friendship that was beginning to metastasize into a full blown confusion blossom (sorry for the mixed metaphor) got the better of me and so I screwed up my courage and balled my hands into little fists and put on 80 SPF sunscreen because it’s just good thinking and belched out a confession of feelings to see whether I was alone in feeling them. Um, turns out I was! And am! “Well, I’m glad I know now,” I said, looking for the nearest pothole to fall into.
I’m still down there, by the way. I’m writing this blog post from the pothole. It has wifi and everything! Maybe I’ll do an episode of The Daily Alison from this pothole tomorrow.
I’m OK though, other than my general sense that the entire world should adore me and the cognitive dissonance that results from running into people who are unaware of this edict. I mean, seriously, how can someone not be totally taken with me and intoxicated with every last thing about me? It’s all so perplexing!
More photos? Okay!
Know what time it is? It’s 7:42pm in California. Know what else? Time for another bunch of photos! Hooray!
Here is the Goldenrod Footbridge in Corona del Mar. I’m pretty sure I’ve blogged about it before. It’s my favorite footbridge and it doesn’t even smell like feet.
Here’s the beach.
More beach.
Stupid beautiful water and bullshit boats.
Another picture of the beach if you’re into that kind of thing.
Oh wait, this is a bundt cake that I baked for Yami’s housewarming party last night. Here are some photos of the time I made it (sans nuts) for my sister’s party.
And then here’s Yami and me at her party.
And here’s a description of Schindler’s List which I thought was funny.
The Daily Alison (Where my mom and I go to the beach again)
Signs you've eaten a beach ball
stomach distended as if from ingestion of beach ball
friends invite you to beach with one caveat: no eating the beach ball this time
burps smell like latex
lunch was pizza and a beach ball
the beach ball is missing and you’re strangely full
someone bet you $100 bucks you couldn’t eat a beach ball. you’re holding $100!
Bean sprout game!
Who wants to play fun game which isn’t that fun and also isn’t really a game? You do!
Ok so I’m looking at the back of a bag of bean sprouts which has many delightful and delicious serving suggestions. In fact, in a fun font it says the following: Energize your menu with these delicious suggestions!
Guess which are the real suggestions and which are the ones I made up?
Flavorful side dish: Stir fry sprouts with onions, mushrooms, zucchini and buttons.
Add to omelettes.
Light and satisfying: Stir fry sprouts with tofu cubes and soy sauce.
Put under pillow and wait for the sprout fairy.
Use in meatloaf.
Nutritious crunch: Add raw sprouts to salads and sandwiches.
Less nutritious crunch: Add raw sprouts to butter.
Refreshing: Put chilled sprouts in sleeve to keep hands cool.
Toss with sesame seeds.
Hang bag of sprouts from string in the yard and take turns hitting it with baseball bat. Whoever hits the bag hard enough to open it wins bag of sprouts!
The Fuji Favorite: Microwave sprouts for 1 to 1/2 minutes then top with warm marinara or au gratin sauce.
The Daily Alison: I wasn't in the mood.
I’m not going to lie: even when I’m boring I’m still pretty entertaining. Right?
Just kidding. These ten minutes couldn’t pass slower. Seriously: don’t watch this.
Wait, maybe do watch? No don’t. No do. Maybe?
I'm not sure if I can hear you
My parents have begun speaking in a volume that I’d put somewhere between a prairie dog burp and a mouse fart. Which is to say, I can’t hear them. The exception to this is in the morning when my mom is having an argument with Tobey. “Tobey, NO!” she’ll scream, the windows rattling. “Tobey, I said NO!” she’ll thunder. Then Tobey will bark a tiny bit and then I’ll stumble into the room groggy and confused and she’ll apologize if Tobey woke me up. Other than this one time of day it’s all hushed tones. At first I thought it was me and that somehow my hearing had been compromised on the flight. “Something wrong with your ears?” my mom would say as I cupped the sides of my head. “No thanks, I don’t like beer,” I’d answer. I was upset about going deaf but getting drunk wasn’t going to solve anything.
And so it went for a few days: my parents carrying on in a way audible only to dolphins, me wondering if I should get a manicure before learning sign language, until I stepped out of the house and was commended on my incredible hearing.
Huh?
You see, all of my Costa Mesa friends used to play in bands and so their hearing is fairly terrible. “That alarm is going to drive me crazy,” I announced a couple days ago. “What alarm?” asked a friend in all seriousness. “Are you serious?” I asked, because I hadn’t read the previous sentence. He nodded and I shook my head in response. Then I clicked four times to indicate a boat on horizon. “There’s an alarm going off in the other room,” I explained. “It’s quiet but it’s been going off for about an hour.” He left to investigate. “Wow, that’s a frequency I no longer have,” he said upon returning. “That’s a shame… but you didn’t turn the alarm off,” I responded. Then I punched him. He never heard it coming.
And then I was at a party with two friends. “Wow, how can you hear that?” they asked when I said that one of the friend’s girlfriends was in the kitchen asking a question about guacamole. “I don’t know, I was convinced I was going deaf,” I said. Then they tried to claim that the reason I could hear and they couldn’t was because of angles and where I was sitting in proximity to the guacamole question versus where they were sitting. I’m not sure if they were right or not.
And… and now I can’t hear myself think because the paternal mouse farter is talking loudly on the phone. Do they just save up their volume for phone calls and yelling at Tobey? Or are they trying to gaslight me? I feel gaslit. Gaslighted? Gaslain?
The Daily Alison (Where I interview Matt Costa and Michael Rosas in a studio)
Check it out you guys: guests on the show who aren’t related to me! In this episode I interviewed Matt Costa and Michael Rosas.