An Encounter With Blowfish, Part Two

So finally the chance to eat blowfish was upon us once again. And this time it was no joke—the blowfish was available and about to make its dangerous journey into my tummy. I can’t say I was nervous—I knew I was in good hands. My expectations were tempered by the stories circulating my office—“it doesn’t have any flavor, really,” my one coworker said. Flavor or not, I was there for at least one thing—foodie street cred. And thus our adventure began.

Out came a small hunk of white fish which Suzuki began slicing not too thinly and not too thickly. Topped with a mysterious orange sauce and chopped baby scallions, it really didn’t look intimidating at all. Don’t poisonous things usually look poisonous? I guess that was a good sign.



My fellow foodie and I braced ourselves and, with a quick dip of soy, took what could have been our last bites. (Am I being sufficiently dramatic about this experience? No?? Just wait.) I’d been fairly warned—the taste was… rather absent all together. I’d also been warned about a tingling sensation in the throat… but that was absent too. Did I just ingest a piece of blowfish without tasting or feeling a thing?


I looked over at my friend, who was freaking out way more than me. “My throat is tingling!” she said, but I still felt nothing. “Maybe my lips are a little numb,” I thought, and realized that blowfish toxins would never make my lip numb. It’s not how it works. And so the psychosomatic symptoms came on. Half an hour later I thought maybe my throat was closing up. Could exhaustion be a side effect of blowfish?

Two days later I’m still alive, and still wondering what all the fuss is all about. But at least I met my match—and won! Any other takes better get in line fast—blowfish season only lasts two more weeks!

I'm Sorry Ms. Palin, Am I In Your Way?

I can't believe it: today's the day! After what seems like the longest campaign in history, today is the day that we elect a new president to replace that quack we have currently sitting in the Oval Office. Halleluja!

While I nervously wait for the business day to end so that I can hop on over to my friends' place for our much-anticipated election party, I can't resist sharing this hysterical greeting card from jeashoot's etsy shop.


Just too funny.

In case the text isn't clear enough in the image, it reads, "Move it! You're blocking my view of Russia!" (ohhh, Sarah Palin...)

PS. This is my 100th post! Whee!

Return of the Job Hunt, Sort Of

Whenever things look smooth, some bump comes and screws with your mind a little. I haven't applied to any new jobs since scoring my M/F research position--mostly out of courtesy, and also because it's an opportunity to wait for the Big Company I worked for last year to scour the market and find a place for me.

Funny how when I stop applying for jobs, though, I get responses from places I thought were already out of the question. And suddenly they seem quite interested. But I'm somewhat committed. At least I haven't signed any paperwork?

Today, the newest prospective employers asked for references.

One bump in the road becomes two.

What happens when one of your references still wants you to work for her but has no jobs and might not want to refer you to a competitor? And what happens when one reference isn't usable because she can't know you're still pseudo-job hunting? And what about, in an entirely different referencing scheme, you put your future editor as your to-be employer instead of your temp agent, making the management company for your apartment very, very confused?

The road suddenly gets bumpier.

But editors are forgiving, and they understand when you explain that the first line asked for your boss's name and that the second clearly marked your start date to be in the future. They'll forgive the creditors at the management company for their strange phone call, and things will only be a little bit awkward on day one.

And the unusable reference will be replaced with another--thank goodness for having a bunch of employers. She'll only find out about the pseudo-job hunt if something comes up, in which case I'll find a way to keep everyone happy. Because that's what I do. Or try to do. Or something like that.

And the competing former boss will send me a short and sweet email indicating that she's not thrilled to see me going other places before she can snag me herself, but will do what's in my best interest rather than hers.

So we return to smooth patch of road and walk along... knowing we'll stumble upon another fork soon.

Ways to Speed Up Time, Part 2

More than 24 hours later, I'm still waiting to hear back.

The lack of punctuality reminds me of the days way back when, when I competed on the speech and debate circuit. No matter what, we knew that every round of the tournament would be at least one hour late in starting. Still, we made it on time every weekend, just in case the odds worked against us. They never did. They still don't, apparently.

So I wait, and I pass time. And I buy things online that I don't need but can't resist, like these gorgeous candlesticks from Red Envelope that I'd been eying for months.



Discounted to $6 a piece, I couldn't say no!

Keep those fingers crossed...

Ways to Speed Up Time, Part 1

It's a crazy morning.

The boyfriend is making his way to the city by bus today, and he'll stay all week. It's a good thing, because no matter what happens today, he'll be there for me. See, today's the day that I hear back from the Big Job. And yes, that really does deserve big capital letters.

I know my odds are fairly decent--I'm one of only six people being considered.

I know I played my cards well and aced the interview. I also sent in a brilliant recommendation. So there's nothing more I could have done. It's all up to fate.

But fate is freaking slow! So I've compiled a few ways that I could pass the time a bit more quickly today...

First up, a soothing bath. Or, since my bathtub is actually kind of gross, I'll just dream about this:


Honestly, it relaxes me just to look at this bathroom! A girl can dream, right?

When that gets old, maybe I'll get some use out of the latest gift from the boy:


Laugh all you want, but the detail in this book means full commitment, and that means no thinking about stressful jobs! Plus, whatever I color becomes a study guide for him later--really, it's a genius gift.

But if all else fails and I simply can't wait any longer without exploding, I have another plan.


I'll go to London! They're a few hours ahead, right? If I was in their time zone, I'd probably already know. So there.

Anyway, keep your fingers crossed that my next update bears good news!

Until then....