Old School

When I went in to have my eyes checked, I hated the part where they would dilate your pupils because then I had to walk around with paper frames with tinted plastic sheets for lenses. I wish I could have told my nine-year-old self to get over it, because imagine walking around with these babies:


For the record, my dad's prescription is something near the upper bound of not-blind. Thanks for the genes, Dad!

This blog is 80% cat.

Favorite Fried Rice Joint

Three course meals consisting of French food are all very well and good (see Au Delice, post with the photogenic tomatoes), but sometimes you just have a yen for quick and filling fried rice, topped with slices of stirfried beef with cucumbers on the side, you know?

Rata-ewwwww

Lately, someone's been really putting away the shrimp paste for lunch. The hallway I pass through almost everyday at the studio reeks. I figure maybe one of the pregnant techs has just suddenly been on the mother of all pregnant binges, and I suppose shrimp paste ranks right up there with pickles and ice cream.

I'm griping about the smell to my co-worker as we walk up the stairs and are freshly assaulted again by the smell. Now, I've had shrimp paste before, but honestly, someone must have had a tub squirreled away for it to be so pungent and spread so thoroughly in that part of the building.

Co-worker: *wrinkles nose* Oh, that's so terrible.

Me: Yeah, I know. I mean, I have no problem with shrimp paste, but this is ridiculous.

*silence*

Co-worker: Um, Vi...a rat DIED somewhere in the walls and we have no idea where it is. You're confusing the smell of a rotting rat with shrimp paste? You've EATEN shrimp paste!

Me: >_<;

Faux pas part eleventytwo

A coworker and I are watching TV in the office, making catty remarks about the guests on the show. It's some sort of panel made up of women experts talking about the latest social evils to plague Vietnamese society.

Co-worker: She's not cute. Permanent bitchface.

Me: Yup, not cute.

Co-worker: Oh, look at her face, that one got plastic surgery.

Me: Freaky, her nose is like Michael Jackson's.

And so it goes, and I'm feeling good because we're just chatting like normal workbuddies stuck on the late shift.

Me: Oh, she is definitely not cute. Uggggg-ly!

Co-worker: *deadpan*...she's my sister.

Me: Waaaa?!? Really?

Co-worker: No, no, haha!

Me: Oh, haha, phew! You made me so scared!

Co-worker: By marriage. She's my...*switches to English* ...sister in law?

Me: Oh...um, yeah, that's right. That would be a sister-in-law.

Francesco and the Cat Horde

Francesco, Nicholas' cousin, flew over from Rome to visit for two weeks. We all liked him very much.


The kittens took a bit longer to warm up to him.


But they soon expressed their approval.