Parallel Universes

There is another me out there, in a level 1 parallel universe (see Scientific American Online, Parallel Universes), and she is typing the very same sentence into the very same computer, looking out the same window listening to the same construction noise outside with the same cat running around the floor meowing and going slowly insane from inertia and boredom. Is she smelling the same litter box smell? Is she also unable to figure out if the thing just needs changing or if there's a random poop floating somewhere around the room? Is there any difference at all? Or is there a tapestry of probability waves surrounding my existence in which every possible me exists simultaniously? Is every moment of time a new universe unto itself? Does any of this help me pay my rent? If I don't pay my rent in this existence, and another me does, can I crash on her floor for a few months?

Read the article, then write me. These are important questions that need answering.
- posted by Katherine @ 10:55 AM 0 comments

 
Lovely day

It's going to be a lovely day, and now I have to find some excuse to get myself out of this apartment and into the sun. Do I shave my legs? Is it warm enough for capri pants? Are capri pants even in style anymore?

How do I go out into the world and not spend any money, that's the real question. There's just so many things out there, all glittering in the sun and whispering, "Buy me, buy me... I'll make you HAPPY..."

What I may do is call the only person who reads this weblog (you know who you are) and see if the weather is as nice in Olympia.
- posted by Katherine @ 10:37 AM 0 comments

 
Mango

Mango is the best fruit in the world. There, I said it... and I'm not ashamed. I cry my love of mango to the heavens, sing its juicy, orange-fleshed praises. Oh sweet nectar, thou runnest down my chin in rivulets and I do smile.

Mangos are becoming ever cheaper and more abundant in the past couple of years. Obviously people in America are begining to see the mango as I do: as a soft, yet firm, slightly slimy but tangy thing of beauty. It's more than just a symbol for madness in Apocalypse Now.

So why is it that this ambrosia, while more popular than ever, will never achieve the popularity of other tropical fruits such as banana or pineapple? The reasons are twofold:

1. Americans don't like mess, and mangoes are messy. You can't just bite into them, you have to cut them open to get past the leathery skin. Then the juice runs down the knife and down your hand then wrist where it pools at your elbow. Then you find yourself licking your own elbow, which is neither comfortable nor dignified. Contrast this with the banana which is dry, comes in an easy open package designed by 3-M and slides confortably into the mouth... much like a penis. Is it any wonder Americans love thier bananas?

2. Mangoes don't travel well. You have to cradle a mango in fluffy pillows, or else it'll be pulp by the time you jab it with a knife. Contrast this with the pineapple. In its natural state, the pineapple is an armored cudgel covered in spikes, thorns and horny protrusions. Of course most Americans eat pineapple from the can (itself a sacriledge: because fresh pineapple, while not a great as the mango, contains flavors and subtlety that are destroyed in processing), which is the ultimate convienience and saves them from having to do battle with the wily uncut pineapple. Mongoes on the other hand can not be canned without losing thier essential mango-ness. Canned mango is no longer fruit, it is chutney.

In conclusion, cherish the mango.
- posted by Katherine @ 10:29 AM 0 comments

 
The Uncertainty Principle

I moved into a new apartment last weekend. It was a chore where myself and eight lovely lovely friends shipped my crap up four flights of steps. Now that all the work is done and my place is organized, beautiful and crying out for classy persian rugs... I still don't know if I'll be able to actually stay. My name isn't on the lease yet, and my former landlady, upon who's glowing reference my continued occupancy depends, is in Europe for god knows how long. This is a worry.

Then there's my unemployment. I had to file for extended benefits two weeks ago. Seems that there's this recession happening... I know, I haven't heard anything about it on the news either, but the rumors just won't go away... and temps such as myself are having a hard time getting work. This is fine by me most of the time, as I hate working. But then I need money, and thus far the government had been kind enough to provide. Now they seem to have a question about my eligability, so they had me fill out forms a go go and I am waiting for thier decision. I am at the mercy of beaurocracies... unfeeling behemoths of inefficiency that spit out paper and sort people's brains into small plastic boxes to be stored in rotting cardboard file cabinets in the basement.

The trembling violin music begins... will I get the lease on the new apartment or will I be forced out? Will I get unemployment to pay for the sumptuous digs? My cats seem to think so; they're very supportive that way. But I have my doubts.

Tune in next week.
- posted by Katherine @ 9:37 AM 0 comments

 
Why I'd Like to be a Hooker

I know, intellectually, that being a hooker is a bad, dangerous, dirty, brutal business. But like most Americans, I can't help assimilating the emotion, if not the substance of Hollywood; and as everyone knows, being a movie hooker is a beautiful, high paying career filled with love and adventure. All hookers are beautiful (except Julia Roberts).

Then there's the sex. All the sex you want, some of it you don't... but there's always a handy body guard to enforce the john's good behavior, and if not, then the hooker inevitable knows kung fu, and can teach grabby men a lesson. Also, hookers make great assasins and if there's anyting I want to be more than a hooker, it's an assasin.
- posted by Katherine @ 10:59 AM 0 comments