Tonight, in my sweet and sour soup, I found a spring. No, that does not mean that I have a spring in my step, or that I found a sprig of parsley. I actually found a black, metal spring. There it was lying in the plastic take-out container, thus meaning I had eaten the entire portion of soup before I discovered that a metallic device had made its way into my potent potable. This situation would make most not want to patronize the sushi restaurant around the corner, but then that means finding affordable take-out sushi will have to be discovered somewhere that is no longer walking distance from my apartment. I am not willing to make such a commitment to another establishment. I would rather turn a blind eye to what may have been the part of someone's watch than lose my favorite eatery of raw fish.
I have recently become obsessed with literary first editions. I read a book about a book thief who had hatched a devious plot where he stole credit cards to buy rare first editions of "The Great Gatsby" and "Far from the Madding Crowd." Because of this, I have been scouring local thrift stores (and most importantly the charity shop around the corner). In my quest, I have found an advance reader copy of John Updike's "Widows of Eastwick" for 2 bucks (worth about $40); a first edition of Whittaker Chamber's "Witness" (worth $150, bought for $4). Now, we just have to see if a used bookshop will think that my purchases warrant them giving me massive amounts of money. If only I could find a first edition of "Interview with the Vampire" or "Gone with the Wind."
Ross and I watched the Grammys this past Sunday, and we had many disagreements with some of the winners and some consternation at many of the performances. When the great shock of the evening, Arcade Fire winning Best Album, we both turned to our internet-loaded devices to twitter, update and doublecheck our reactions with that of our friends and critics. At this point, the broadcast cut to the local news program. The news anchor in his booming voice said:
"At tonight's Grammys, Lady Antebellum was the big winner with five awards. Let's turn to our correspondent, ________, who is live at the Staples Center right now."
The camera cut to an attractive blond, seemingly in her early to mid-thirties. She began to speak:
"Well, tonight globbedy blook, Gooble goobble. Let's look flirtational shooble doo."
Ross and I laughed at her complete incompetence in creating a coherent sentence. The next day, Ross discovered that the aforementioned woman was slurring her words not because she was drunk, but because she was having a stroke on the air.
I felt bad for having laughed at her.