The holiday season is almost upon us, which reminds me how very far away I now am from my home near the site of the first Thanksgiving. In the spirit of leaving the familiar and exploring the unknown, we are considering not having a turkey on Thursday. While researching what to prepare instead, I found this trove of turkey-shaped foods not made of turkey. Take a peek at these alternative Thanksgiving dishes, which may excite or disgust you. There are also brief descriptions of the artistic and gustatory merits of each entry.
http://www.daniellespencer.com/graphics/projects/various/jello_turkey/2007.htm
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Friday, November 9, 2007
Sorry for the delay
I don't know what has been up with me for the past week. I have not had the energy to post for a while (though, curiously, I did have the time, due to some unexpectedly cancelled classes). Maybe it's because Gaby is currently refusing to play foosball, Cathedral, chess or Monopoly with me. Without these traditional outlets for working out my frustration and getting away from thinking about the law, I have become a little listless. But here I am now, the result of a titanic effort on my part, and I want to share a Halloween story with you, gentle readers, in honor of my record time in consuming all the leftover trick-or-treat candy (total trick-or-treater count for the entire evening: 0). For your part, reader, please email Gaby and tell her to fulfill her roommately duties of playing senseless games and trash-talking me the whole time, so that I can get back in the groove here. I fear she has become a little too responsible now that she is bringing home the bacon.
Well anyway, late last month, baskets of free candy bars began to appear outside of a few professors' offices in honor of Halloween. These were obviously designed to brighten the day of any student at office hours, or the staff, or any passersby who enjoy the occasional chocolatey treat. Being a hungry grad student, I quickly noted the locations of the freebies and became a frequent plunderer of the baskets. My chocolate-seeking behavior swiftly spiraled out of control, however, and soon I was to be found hanging about the baskets rather more often than was reasonable. Often, I would swoop down several times a day for a pick-me-up (okay, a handful of pick-me-ups), and I was convinced that the secretary whose desk was directly across from my favorite source was becoming suspicious of my activity.
I tried to quit. Honestly I did. But one bright afternoon in the library, I just couldn't hold out any longer. Abandoning my books and notes, I stole across campus in search of just one sweet taste of sugar.
My plan was simple and devastatingly brilliant. I was going to stride into the hallway, looking studious but perplexed, as if some troubling question were weighing heavily on my mind, and head directly over to the office of a professor whom I knew would not be in on that day. Once there, I would make a show of being disappointed at discovering the prof's absence, then turn around and trudge away slowly. Of course, this was all an elaborate ruse that would allow me to surreptitiously check to see that the coast was clear around that basket of goodies. If my nemesis the hawk-eyed secretary was not around, I could grab as many fun-sized Twix as would fit in my pockets, then get the hell out of there, no-one the wiser.
When I got there, my plan went perfectly. No prying eyes, no professors, no students, no secretary. Money. Soon I was wrist-deep in nougat and caramel. Giggling softly to myself, I took about half the supply and made my way back to the staircase. Of course, I had not reckoned on taking this much candy, so it was a little difficult trying to stuff my pockets. And then, disaster! I heard the distinct sound of a female step descending the stairs. There was nowhere to run. I had to act fast to hide the evidence.
I panicked. In what was, in retrospect, the worst move I could have made, I crammed my hands under my shirt and dumped the chocolate down my trousers, trusting that the fitted waist would keep the candy from sliding down the legs and onto the floor. To hide the obvious bulge at my trouser front, the first hand to extricate itself from my pants pulled my shirt free. The untidy "untucked" look is not so professional-looking, but it is concealing.
That is when the female step on the stair resolved itself into a real and visible female person. I can only imagine how horrible was the sight before her. In her plain view was a very guilty-looking male with one hand still wrapped up in the bottom of his shirt, while the other hand was clearly caught in the front of his trousers. What did I do to extricate myself from this delicate situation? I froze in fear, put on a very stupid grin, and allowed the shocked-looking blonde to pass. Then I ran for it, up the stairs and out of the building. Unfortunately, the wrappers in my pants made my rapid ascent a noisy one, and the extremely noticeable crinkle crinkle sound at each step (something like Mylar underpants would sound) scandalized the poor girl still further. Thank God it was a only student I don't know. If I had had to look that face in the eye at my next class, I probably would have died of embarrassment.
I was mortified enough as it was, and sufficiently put out that I totally forgot about the candy until I was back in the library. Which made for another interesting moment, as I had to then duck into the first abandoned-looking aisle of books I saw, then remove all the chocolate from my pants without attracting any more attention to myself. Easier said than done, believe me; libraries are quiet places, but as I had already discovered, candy-bar wrappers are not silent accessories when handled carelessly. On the other hand, taking my time meant more opportunity for a student to blunder into my aisle while I was in yet another compromising position. There was nothing for it but to hurry the process and hope for the best, while whispering the silent prayer "I cannot be banned from the library this early in my school career." This time, I caught a break, and even managed to get the chocolate hidden in my schoolbag without any further incident.
But I'll tell you one thing: I didn't go back to that basket of free candy again. Not until late that Saturday night, when I was sure no-one would be around.
Well anyway, late last month, baskets of free candy bars began to appear outside of a few professors' offices in honor of Halloween. These were obviously designed to brighten the day of any student at office hours, or the staff, or any passersby who enjoy the occasional chocolatey treat. Being a hungry grad student, I quickly noted the locations of the freebies and became a frequent plunderer of the baskets. My chocolate-seeking behavior swiftly spiraled out of control, however, and soon I was to be found hanging about the baskets rather more often than was reasonable. Often, I would swoop down several times a day for a pick-me-up (okay, a handful of pick-me-ups), and I was convinced that the secretary whose desk was directly across from my favorite source was becoming suspicious of my activity.
I tried to quit. Honestly I did. But one bright afternoon in the library, I just couldn't hold out any longer. Abandoning my books and notes, I stole across campus in search of just one sweet taste of sugar.
My plan was simple and devastatingly brilliant. I was going to stride into the hallway, looking studious but perplexed, as if some troubling question were weighing heavily on my mind, and head directly over to the office of a professor whom I knew would not be in on that day. Once there, I would make a show of being disappointed at discovering the prof's absence, then turn around and trudge away slowly. Of course, this was all an elaborate ruse that would allow me to surreptitiously check to see that the coast was clear around that basket of goodies. If my nemesis the hawk-eyed secretary was not around, I could grab as many fun-sized Twix as would fit in my pockets, then get the hell out of there, no-one the wiser.
When I got there, my plan went perfectly. No prying eyes, no professors, no students, no secretary. Money. Soon I was wrist-deep in nougat and caramel. Giggling softly to myself, I took about half the supply and made my way back to the staircase. Of course, I had not reckoned on taking this much candy, so it was a little difficult trying to stuff my pockets. And then, disaster! I heard the distinct sound of a female step descending the stairs. There was nowhere to run. I had to act fast to hide the evidence.
I panicked. In what was, in retrospect, the worst move I could have made, I crammed my hands under my shirt and dumped the chocolate down my trousers, trusting that the fitted waist would keep the candy from sliding down the legs and onto the floor. To hide the obvious bulge at my trouser front, the first hand to extricate itself from my pants pulled my shirt free. The untidy "untucked" look is not so professional-looking, but it is concealing.
That is when the female step on the stair resolved itself into a real and visible female person. I can only imagine how horrible was the sight before her. In her plain view was a very guilty-looking male with one hand still wrapped up in the bottom of his shirt, while the other hand was clearly caught in the front of his trousers. What did I do to extricate myself from this delicate situation? I froze in fear, put on a very stupid grin, and allowed the shocked-looking blonde to pass. Then I ran for it, up the stairs and out of the building. Unfortunately, the wrappers in my pants made my rapid ascent a noisy one, and the extremely noticeable crinkle crinkle sound at each step (something like Mylar underpants would sound) scandalized the poor girl still further. Thank God it was a only student I don't know. If I had had to look that face in the eye at my next class, I probably would have died of embarrassment.
I was mortified enough as it was, and sufficiently put out that I totally forgot about the candy until I was back in the library. Which made for another interesting moment, as I had to then duck into the first abandoned-looking aisle of books I saw, then remove all the chocolate from my pants without attracting any more attention to myself. Easier said than done, believe me; libraries are quiet places, but as I had already discovered, candy-bar wrappers are not silent accessories when handled carelessly. On the other hand, taking my time meant more opportunity for a student to blunder into my aisle while I was in yet another compromising position. There was nothing for it but to hurry the process and hope for the best, while whispering the silent prayer "I cannot be banned from the library this early in my school career." This time, I caught a break, and even managed to get the chocolate hidden in my schoolbag without any further incident.
But I'll tell you one thing: I didn't go back to that basket of free candy again. Not until late that Saturday night, when I was sure no-one would be around.
I'm not alone
Sometimes my brain, like most people's, goes on vacation. Unlike most people, who start thinking about the mundane things like what to make for dinner, do I have enough underwear to last me the week, did I feed the cat? I come up with scenarios like what to do when a crazed employee comes in with a shotgun, how to best survive a zombie attack, what is the best invention to recreate after the apocalypse and you are one of the few to survive? After seeing this web comic I'm glad to know that I'm not the only one.
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