duck-shaped pain

I had a dream last night where I beat Martin Amis up in an argument over four dollars. It wasn't difficult -- I've seen him in person [2], he's not a big guy. In my dream, though, he was a cashier at Wal-Mart and would not give me change back for the purchase I had just made. [3] "Don't you understand?" he said to me. "I really, really need this four dollars!" He kept taunting me and then he ran away. Then it got ugly, because I, too, really, really needed that four dollars.

I don't know who you are, person who accessed my page fifteen different times yesterday from a search you did for "where +are +her +shoes," but please go away.

After work yesterday, I sat imbibing a beverage of my choice at Teeny Tiny Coffee. Since the tables there are so few in number and so crowded in next to each other, everyone becomes part of everyone else's conversation. So I was next to this woman who was telling her companion and myself about how she spent $175 apiece on tickets to see U2, who are apparently coming to Denver sometime in the future. I didn't say anything, really. I can't imagine spending that much on tickets to anything, but how other people spend their money is their business. The woman much have caught my disbelief in her face, for she asked me if I would spend that much money to see my favorite band (not like she knew what my favorite band was or even if I had one -- this was in a theoretical sense, if anything). I said no. She told me that I must not like my (theoretical) favorite band very much if I wouldn't pay that much to see them. "Don't you think that them just being there, putting on the most spectacular thing they can for you, would be worth that?" To be honest, I wasn't thinking in terms of "spectacular." I was thinking more that the last time I saw my favorite band play, a couple of years ago, it only cost me $18. [4]

Now that I think about it, that was sort of a disturbing dream.

I made stir-fry with tofu in it on Friday night. I had to use a different brand of tofu, since the one I normally buy (Denver Tofu Company) was sold out. I didn't get really great results. I didn't marinate the tofu first, so it just had a bland, tofu-y taste while all the other ingredients actually managed to taste like the sauce, but it was still edible. There was just a lot left over. I tried eating some on Saturday, but it tasted worse. Don't know why. I don't like microwaved tofu anyway -- it undergoes some serious structural damage while in the microwave and comes out gloopy. Yesterday was no day for gloopy.

I managed to avoid St. Patrick's Day altogether, which is good. I hate St. Patrick's Day, for many reasons. I used to be more vocal about that, but I found the best strategy is just to pretend it doesn't exist. I almost forgot which day it was when I was getting dressed yesterday, and nearly left the house in my avocado green sweater, but then I came to my senses. Luckily, no one asked me about it. They often do. Usually, when you have a middle name like mine, people always assume you're going to be really into pinching and icky green-dyed North American Industrial Lager-type beer, and claddaghs and all sorts of other Irish spring freshness bullshit, and I'm not.

[1] For such a short, light trip, there are a surprising amount of purchases that have to be made: little bottles for various fluids and substances, combination locks, earplugs, light new travel pajamas, new pants, special socks, etc.

[2] Book signing. Not terribly fascinating in and of itself.

[3] Pecan log.

[4] Which is still about twice what I usually pay for a show.

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