8.19.2006 ||> The Magical Properties of Wasabi
I love sushi. I especially love the taste of wasabi and soy sauce mixed in with sushi rice. I make my own sushi and I go out to eat it and sample new sushi recipes.
Sometimes, however, the wasabi is very strong. I love it even when my eyes are streaming with tears and I feel as if any mucus that ever was is cleaned from my sinuses forever. The only time it becomes a problem is when I have a huge california roll in my mouth and it's hard to breathe.
The night before last, a wedge of wasabi attacked me and lodged in my throat. I coughed to expel it, and a chunk of yasai maki flew out and hit the boyfriend right in the eye. I was horrified, but then started to laugh, and tried to swallow the roll before I choked completely on it. The boyfriend and I were laughing so hard that it was difficult to even finish dinner.
Suffice it to say that, despite having paid for dinner, I am going to be paying for that one a while longer.
The Tao doesn't take sides;If there were a "Tao of Partisanship," this would be chapter 1 instead of chapter 5.
it gives birth to both good and evil.
The Master doesn't take sides;
she welcomes both saints and sinners.
The Tao is like a bellows:
it is empty yet infinitely capable.
The more you use it, the more it produces;
the more you talk of it, the less you understand.
Hold on to the center.
Labels: tao
Okay, the Dept. of Homeland Security is goig a wee bit too far methinks:
U.S. authorities are advising women not to wear gel bras on airplanes as information developed in the foiled London plot points to an expanding role for women in smuggling explosives on to an aircraft.First it was lipstick and mascara. Now it is gel bras. Soon, everyone will have to be naked, or in those embarassing hospital smocks.
While I would never wear a gel bra on a plane or anywhere else, I can't help but feel for my smaller-breasted sisters out there. Restricted in our makeup and now without the magical contraptions that gives them cleavage.
God help us when some terrorist makes a bomb out of a tampon.
Have you ever gone into the bathroom at work and realized that:
1. Someone is or has pooped in the next stall
2. They refuse to come out until you are gone
I walked into the bathroom this morning and went to the bathroom, realized the person had pooped and had the sneaking suspicion that the person was waiting for me to leave because I might find out they pooped?
I poop at work all the time, and I have to say that it's a mixed bag. Sometimes I don't care and just pop out of the bathroom, engaging in conversation. Sometimes I do, and refuse to make a sound until everyone has left the bathroom. But one thing I do know is: I don't care about other people pooping. So why would they care about me?
Hey, it's getting paid to (literally) do shit! Something to be proud of, I guess.
