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blog entries from 2002-2003

hazel displaying one of the many peanutty delights of her native land.

and this, folks, pnj so deeply hopes, is the last time that pnj will feel the urge to display photos of her child on her otherwise terribly cynical and at times meanspirited website. clearly this is no place for children.

hazel's first jewmas (and a big shout out to my equally confused cousin paul who led me to the jewmas website -- links provided on pnj's homepage)

as you can see she was a bit confused by the whole jewish christmas thing - but notice how well pokey has caught on to the multiple identity backbends and now enjoys mugging for a jewmas family photo-- so there is hope.

your close friend and ally, pinky nice juice, has been up since 3.30 this am, when i was awoken by the shockingly loud thud of thatcher falling out of bed. oops. pokey, for her part, slept through the whole affair.

how have i used these three precious hours of time, up alone at night? (and yes, alone really, despite my location here in the epicenter of the naked city, because although nyc is purportedly the city that never sleeps, pnj thinks that is a misnomer - or perhaps that was nyc before rudy giuliani turned it into a giant f-ing shopping mall, is pnj the only one out there who enjoys a little seediness??? - anyhow nowadays they all go to sleep eventually. if you want to stay up all night, better that you head to spain, i think). how have i spent this time? (i ask again). sewing the zipper into that cute little hooded sweater i made? reading the book i am supposed to review (said review already being a month late)? watching inspector morse on television? NO! pnj has been eating cookies, drinking coffee, and reflecting on the horrifying phenomenon of recent times that we call "Celebrity Chefs!"

celebrity chefs is a ridiculous and irritating concept. like when you buy that "wolfgang puck" frozen pizza he actually made it or even made the recipe? and like we care what your name is and like we think it matters what you look like (the iron chefs, of course, go by cuisine and are legitimate celebrities because they actually compete with one another-- and of course, pnj is willing to make the occasional exception for someone with a good show on pbs -- like lydia bastianich, and that jamie oliver is cute -- but the lisping british accent bucgs the crap out of me, and he has a tad too much energy, i think.) the worst of course is todd english (though that idiot emiril is enough to make pnj turn off the tv -- and few things have the power to do that). what a complete putz. (have you ever noticed that he looks exactly like that obnoxious "presidential historian" michael beschloss? the most boring man on the planet, and wearing the same heavy layer of makeup as well, pnj might add).

basically (and pnj bases this on her many years experience as a waitress) celebrity chefs is a way for totally over-testosterone temper-tantrum prone insecure macho big boys who are going through mid-life crises and work in kitchens to get some. kind of like how regular celebrities is a way for totally over-testosterone temper-tantrum prone insecure drama club types who work "in film" and are going through mid-life crises (like "sly" stallone) to get some. and what about the ladies? well what about the ladies? what on earth is up with that weird british chick in the tight sweater surrounded by soft lighting, nigella? the one who takes little teeny bites out of her food in all her photos and on her show? is that really the feminine version of NIGEL? nigella? it sounds like barbarella.

anyhow pnj ain't buying it.

30/12/03

ok so pnj is completely obsessed with the lord of the rings -- having now seen the fellowship of the ring on video. my favorite part is how thousands of years pass and its always super medieval, oh and the leader of the dwarves who has a heavy scottish accent and a read beard that he wears in braids. and the hobbits are really mini and fun. and yet there is a part of me that worries a bit -- what if when i watch the next movie (the two towers) pnj gets even farther into it. i mean how does someone become super goth and into fantasy and all that? surely it starts small, maybe with an innocent little copy of the hobbit, a gift from your aunt on your twelth birthday or something, then before you know it pnj is out there blogging in elvish and redecorating her apartment in a unicorn motif. then again unicorns never hurt anyone. unlike some evil wizards we know...

hazel and paris

ok -- so pnj is now back from a long hiatus. indeed she has travelled all the way to asia and back. she has sampled the korean twinkie (called the "creamy"), and also had the chinese version of pringles (called "rounds" and available in "excitable baby flavor"). she has been serenaded by a young man from hunan singing john denver's "country roads" over the microphone on the bus. she has viewed the larger than life amazingly photographic embroidery of chairman mao. and she has gotten hazel -- who turns out to be a most fabulous and utterly adorable person. at first pnj was concerned that hazel might be mentally impaired, retarded if you will. not that pnj would love her any less, as i said already she is beyond fabulous and clearly has a lot to offer as a person-- just that this is the sort of thing that a parent should be aware of --but then thatcher assured me that this she is actually quite an ordinary baby, its just that babies are in fact, total dumbasses. adorable, lovable, indeed waited on hand and foot,and continually feted with gifts, subject to all manner of photographic insult -- both invited and not, a tad whiny at times, but easily distracted from their cries by any opportunity to flirt with themselves in the mirror or to inspect their own tiny little incredibly soft feet --, clothed in an overpriced array of at times comical attire, including disposable underpants, and without the slightest inkling of how the world works. in short babies are like paris hilton.

29/12/03

pnj wishes some hobbits would come visit. i would definitely feed them some bacon.

ok here's an important question -- why does the yarn company -- the knitting store on broadway in the upper west side suck so bad? though there are a few really nice women who work there (and some super cute yarn)-- the rest of them pretty much define the word bitssy (that's a combination of bitchy and stressy). its like someone opened a big ol' can of pms in there. now pnj doesn't say this lightly, but she has now been to said store on three separate outings, each spaced a few months apart and it is pretty much the same vibe everytime (well unless pnj goes with louise -- because louise is so truly fabulous and something of a neighborhood rock star type in her own right, so they kind of warm up when they see her). not only are they completely freaking out all the time (and who knows why? i mean its a KNITTING STORE, f-ing relax) but they also treat you like you must be a complete idiot, who couldn't possibly know how to knit -- and yet there you are in a knitting store -- so it would seem obvious that you do in fact know how to knit and even if you didn't perhaps you might not like being talked to in such a patronizing and smarmy manner when you are about to spend close to a hundred bucks for something off a sheep. anyhow today was pnj's last straw -- from now on she will be traveling downtown for all of her knitting supply needs...

truly fabulous -- but little known facts about thatch (if you already knew 6 of the 9 facts below then you are clearly a good friend of thatch, 7 or higher and you are in the thatch posse)

-he is responsible for the return of original scent speedstick deodorant to the american marketplace (now the official deodorant of the nba) and we have the documentation to prove it.

-he is actively promoting al sharpton in the next election

- he doesn't let the fact that he is abnormally tall get in the way of his self-esteem

-he likes butter and he's not afraid to use it.

- when he was in kindergarten he was in a short-lived, but tough street gang in the bucolic new england town of his youth -- they were called THE ALLEY CATS

- he bakes the thatch signature cookies

- tighty-whiteys are his underpants of choice (sorry, pnj knows that this is really none of our collective business, but it is such a fascinating choice that pnj feels compelled to share it)

- yes, he's a little absent minded and gets irritated when you remind him of things that he has clearly forgtotten (like when you are in the car with him and he is driving and you feel the need to point out as you near the verazzano narrows bridge -- of which you are beyond terrified -- that we are in fact, driving to boston, not philadelphia -- forcing him to say, oops -- oh yeah -- alright...)but you are certain that this is because this perpetual state of half sleepiness, like a giant hibernating bear in feetsy-pyjamas, in which he exists is somehow related to why he is so nice

- he HATES microsoft, but essentially works for them and tells himself he doesn't

- he is bonkers for baby animals

3/12/03

cravings for communism and a planned society

ok -- apologies to anyone who is powerfully tired of hearing about pnj's quest for child etc. but frankly that is your own problem, now isn't it. this is my blog and i can write about whatever i choose, and you, dear friend can read about whatever you choose. this is the upside of our democracy here in america. please enjoy it while this is still possible. sigh...somedays pnj fears that serious censorship is just round the corner.

anyhow, its not the censorship about communism and a planned society that pnj craves (that would be totalitarianism and they are different -- no?) -- its the lack of choice. which brings me back to "Buy Buy Baby" (henceforth: BBB) the scariest superstore on earth, to which pnj has now been twice. clearly pnj is still scarred from the experience. this is why. upon entering BBB one immediately realizes that some amorphous "they" has got you by the proverbial huevos (that's apparently a mexican idiom for "balls" -- which is an american idiom for testicles -- one could of course, pursue this on some psycho-anthro level -- why do mexican's employ discursive language that refers to the fragility of testicles, while americans on the otherhand emphasize their bouncy nature?? makes you think, huh...this is no doubt someone's american studies dissertation just waiting to happen) anyhoo -- back to BBB -- your huevos are held by madison avenue and (in a foucauldian sense) society at large (including yourself!!) because apparently as a parent one is supposed to buy the safest, most educational crap for your kid as an expression of love, self-sacrifice (especially for moms), and your command over science (a necessary part of parenting apparently -- because this is an active science project --if you don't believe pnj then go and buy a "baby book" preferably by some dude called brazelton-- and pnj is constantly reminded (by no one more than herself -- remember this is a foucauldian thing -- and pnj is perfectly capable of self-policing)that she as busy reading us magazine and watching kg and spree and the twolves on tv rather than doing her science of parenting homework (an "F" for self-sacrifice already) -- and when pnj is confronted by so many pressing choices around "sippy cups" and little snuggy things and myriad safety mechanisms she longs for communism. pnj just wants to send her babushka to line up all day for the family's allotment of "food", "clothing", and goodness only knows whatelse while pnj trudges off to her job with the Bolshoi Ballet (you didn't think pnj was working on a communal farm somewhere did you?).

26/11/03

*********a song for pokey*********

you're a dog

you're quite a dog

you're so great and you're going far

oh what a dog you are

yes! you're a dog, you're a star!

the above is pnj's new song for pokey -- who has been attending the "vancouver dog school" up here in the hood (there is another dog school up here called the montreal dog school -- pnj, for her part, wants to open the winnepeg dog school or perhaps the saskatoon dog school...) and can now remain in the "down" position for quite some time while waiting for a liversnap. generally pnj does think it has been excellent for pokey's self-esteem -- as evidenced by her dwindling need to hump all the fluffy dogs in the dog park... we are so proud!

here's a little advice -- but pnj doesn't feel like putting it on the advice page -- because to be pnj is to be someone who can take any neat and straightforward and rational system for storage, organization, filing, you name it -- and subvert it completely until it is a mess. anyhow -- here's the advice - next time you have a wicked bad freakdown in the middle of the most obnoxious and terrifying super store of all time ("Buy Buy Baby" on 7th ave) because you are about to be a mother and you now realize that this fact involves making choices about which rectal thermometer to purchase and also because you suddenly realize that everything around you is in either a ducky or tickle me elmo motif- well then pnj suggests that you leave the store immediately and travel to brooklyn for a little brunch and a cocktail with good ol' kdunk over at morethandonuts. she'll set you right.

25/11/03

pnj is losing it.

after a night brimming over with stressy insomnia, pnj decided to skip the hour and 15 minute each way commute for a day of reading microfilm, to stick at home and get organized. some of us are headed to china is one week's time and we are hoping to have shampoo to bring on the trip. so pnj just decided to start things off right, with a plate of bacon and a fried egg and toast --actually a few slices of fried french bread -- because once you are frying, i mean why not? of late pnj has been buying very good bacon (because, surely you agree -- that pnj is worth it) - the thick kind that is not from a factory. i find that this does make a difference. anyhow its the kind of breakfast that is so good and yet at the same time makes pnj feel like she is all messed up with all of her priorities in the wrong place - as surely if she were a sane person she would take the time to have a proper breakfast every morning. in fact, perhaps i should quit my job and spend some time to make the occasional plate of banana waffles and really savor the morning. microfilm is evil.

some days you just love your friends. today is one of those days. i love you friends!!! love, love, love, love you!!!

no, really. fix your hair.

so yesterday pnj went to go and get a set of passport photos taken. of course, pnj already has a fabulous passport (really its that once in a lifetime kind of passport with all manner of stamps and seals in it) but these photos are for my chinese visa for my upcoming trip to china with thatch to pick up little hazel luo ya fang (fill in pnj's surname here -- never you mind what it is -- and do note that hazel shall have pnj's surname and not thatchers, as i won that honor in a heated game of rock-paper-scissors this summer)in only two and a half weeks time. anyhoo, pnj needed passport photos, so she popped round the corner yesterday to the photo shop to have a set taken. nice place, a little store front selling picture frames and film (not one of those very snotty, aren't you an artist or professional photographer? if not what are you doing here kind of photo stores) run by a lively Indian man in his early 50s. it went something like this

photoshop owner (henceforth po) -- can i help you?

pnj - two passport photos please

po - right away! you are going to wear that sweatshirt for your photo? (disapproving tone)

pnj - yes, its just a picture for a chinese visa, i am sure they dont care what i look like.

po - there is a mirror right there. (parental glare)

pnj- thanks, i think i am fine, i'm in a bit of a hurry (thinking to self-- uh -- excuse me -- i am going to china in like two and a half weeks, which means that i have to devote approximately four hours of each day just to sitting in one place and freaking out -- and as it turns out that leaves less time for taking care of such pressing responsibilities as getting passport photos taken and changing out of this sweatshirt, which has been doing me just fine all weekend thankyou very much).

po - well your hair is a mess, please use the mirror.

pnj uses the mirror and gets her look together -- yes, her hair was a mess, but then again, what else is new.

po exasperated leans over and fixes pnj's hair again, and then takes the photo.

apparently some people would have tidiness be a prerequisite for international travel..

16/11/03

pnj must keep it brief - since she must run for the 7.35 express train out of penn station this morning -- but here's a little anecdote that no doubt you all will find highly illuminating -- as it is so emblematic of male behavior.

the microfilm room

yesterday -- as it has been for several days now -- found pnj down in the microfilm room of the library reading old issues of the Botswana Daily News from the early 1970s. (my favorite headline was about how streaking will NOT be tolerated at public events). anyhow, in come these two late 40s/mid 50s professorial types to read some microfilm together (microfilm buddies - how totally cute!). this involved a 45 minute process of trying (loudly) to figure out how to work the microfilm reader. not once -- ever -- did they think of asking pnj for help -- though they took many a surreptitious glance at how my machine was threaded and how pnj was operating the zoom. not once -- ever -- did they consult the librarian whose desk was only inches away. oh no! that would be terribly emasculating and all -- after all this is a machine and they are men -- not just any old wussy machine either -- a MICROFILM machine -- microfilm -- like spies make and exchange and risk their lives over -- MICROFILM a mainstay of cold war movies (no matter that they were just trying to read some old newspaper from the turn of the century)and all that.

well -- macho professor men from the microfilm room, if you are reading this -- get the f- over it! and shut up while you are at it. ask for help, learn to thread your machine and then QUIETLY (it is a library after all) read your stupid microfilm -- some of us are trying to learn about an episode in which 20 naked men streaked through a garden party outside Gaborone, and how this type of behavior will no longer be tolerated.

13/11/03

ok -- pnj has missed you all terribly. this is just a segway blog to generate some distance on my screen from the blog below -- a blog that carries some sad memories of an event that made this here bostonian a little testy (do you think that word comes from "testes" ?)at her fellow new yorkers

Let's see. I believe that makes it Red Sox 1 and High-priced Pinstripe Wearing Pretty Boys -- ZERO!!!

when rich people yell...

let pinkynicejuice tell you -- it isn't pretty. pnj and pokey saw two wealthy people going at it on west end avenue this evening over a disputed parking space, and not only were potty-mouth epithets hurling about, but one gentleman had achieved a level of shrillness in his tone and style of personal comportment that well, lets just say i think pokey was a bit confused over just who was blowing the emergency high frequency dog whistle, and why...

7/10/03

tigers revenge

well pnj must point out the coincidence that not only was "roy" of "sigfried and roy" fame attacked by one of "his" tigers the other day, but yesterday police were called to an upper floor apartment on adam clayton powell in harlem to subdue another white tiger that had bit its captor. pnj is going to try to draw a simple lesson for you all so listen closely...tigers, as it turns out, are wild animals, not housepets, nor vegas show-cats. tigers appear to be staging a rebellion - - so the rest of you tiger owners (that includes you -- "sigfried"!), give it up now before we wind up with some sort of planet-of-the-apes (only with tigers) type scenario...

5/10/03

well its not all sun and roses after all...pnj is co-teaching a new class this semester (along with a fabulous colleague) on the history of sex and sexuality. fun graduate students, lots of good reading, its all so wonderful! but -- as is always the case in this life -- there is the inevitable down side... it turns out that the men who ride the commuter trains with pnj seem to think that reading about the history of sex suggests that one just might be interested in having sex with them (one of course must admire this highly narcissistic and frankly counter-intuitive logic). here is pretty much how it goes...

(mushy-red-head-guy -- henceforth mrhg): what are you reading?
pnj: ... (this is the sound of pnj pretending that she hasn't heard)
mrhg: (a bit louder) hey, what are you reading?
pnj: (still silent tilts book cover so that mushy-red-head guy can see cover he has already seen while she was reading)
mrhg: "making sex" huh? is that what they are teaching you at big state u? (pnj had just gotten on at big state u.'s stop)
pnj: i'm a professor, i teach it.
mrhg: you must be fun at a party! (icky look crosses over his mushy face) where are you headed?
pnj: to the next train car...

(aging frat boy in big pants: henceforth afbbp): (leans across aisle) hey -- what are you reading, "the history of sex"?
pnj: (silently shows cover of the history of sexuality volume I)
afbbp: that looks like a fun book, you must be a fun lady...
pnj: (in incredibly serious tone) well, actually i'm a professor of this stuff over at big state u, and well...unfortunately its not all fun. in fact, i'm just reading the part in this book about "masturbatory insanity" right now -- yep -- a young guy like you should definitely watch out for that -- it can be really tragic if you know what i mean...

afbbp: yeah... i know what you mean... (settles back in his seat looking a tad uncomfortable)

27/9/03

is toilet paper only for tall people? no, pnj thinks not. therefore, could someone please tell every deli owner in new york (especially the ones around her apartment) to please LOWER the toilet paper. we, the short people of new york, just once, want to choose our color of scott, 1000 sheets toilet paper, rather than lobbing a box of rice krispies up to the top shelf and hoping we knock the blue roll down, rather than that unfortunate looking one that is the color of bandaids.

22/9/03

go for the latkes, stay for the advice

last night pinkynicejuice went to fairway -- the giant and cheap and fabulous supermarket in her new hood -- it is open until 1 am. well for anyone who is not a new yorker -- fairway probably doesn't seem all that large, nor all that cheap -- but then again pnj's giant, cheap, and fabulous new apartment also no doubt seems expensive and cramped to the rest of you -- so you have to get in this kind of smurfish mindset where of course everything is tiny and small because we are all living inside of mushrooms and hiding from gargamell (sp?)

anyhoo -- over at the fairway deli counter one of the highlights is the tall guy who looks like a cross between snoop dogg and marcus camby (not as tall though) who yells -- hell-o, and que PASA? at you when its your turn. (the other guy yells -- if you're hungry - you're next!) he has a really beautiful voice (seriously) and sings 70s r and b and 80s songs to you while he packs up your latkes and applesauce.

last night when it was pnj's turn he sang "there is always something there to remind me -- how can i forget you girl -- when there is always something there to remind me... etc. etc." pnj for her part shared with him her suspicion that this was in fact a song about herpes. to which he replied rather seriously, "try not to think so hard baby"

20/9/03

"the stranger"

its finally happened. last night pnj saw something amazing on tv. an ad for the new billy joel broadway musical -- "movin' out!". basically a bunch of dancers who look like they were previously in "up with people" but are now at times dressed in that strange been around the block one too many times but pretending to be wholesome so that tourists from the mid-west can take their kids to see soft-porn broadway thing where they are wearing some kind of briefs and a button down shirt tied in the middle with high-heels and legwarmers and their flare-legged lycra pants partners dance these choreographed numbers to all the billy joel hits while this very blond guy who kind of looks like the guy from the carpenters (and a moment of respect please for the carpenters who pnj LOVES -- r.i.p. karen... we'd only just begun...) plays a piano and sings ALL of billy joel's hits. you know how you always used to hear billy joel described as rock -- but that made you feel kind of uncomfy -- what with uptown girl and that whole italian restaurant and piano man thing -- well now pinkynicejuice finally knows why! because all this time billy joel has actually been playing show tunes.

17/9/03

pokey, pokey, pokey -- we made you out of clay, and when you're dry and ready pokey we will play!

i miss my dog.

so a lot has been going on with pnj over these past few weeks-- preventing me from blogging -- here are a few highlights

laguardia at the usairways counter -- someone with an "eticket" had a hyphonated last name. quite an affair, there were like 30 USAIR staff members trying to figure out what to do! a real imbroglio...

conference by a lake. we sleep in bunkbeds. darlene falls out of bed in the middle of the night but insists she is ok. pnj for her part is startled -- sits straight up in bed and screams -- "OH MY GOD ARE YOU ALRIGHT???!!!!" thus waking up several people.

on the way home -- pnj's distinguished companion -- a tremendously accomplished scholar in her sixties is rather vigorously searched at the airport -- pnj tries not to look at her bellybutton while it is being "wanded".

first faculty meeting at big state u. before the meeting starts, pnj feels somehow compelled to make the two really nice women's history professors sitting next to her look at the full color photographs of vaginas in the book she is currently reading (note: this is a history book and not pnj's choice of reading material which is US Weekly magazine, and the pictures are quite tasteful -- especially the one of chimpanzees masturbating).

pnj's college roommate jen comes to visit my new fifth floor walk-up apartment and informs pnj of how to climb the stairs in such a way that she gets a firm tushy rather than thunderously large calves. (don't walk on the balls of your feet -- and squeeze as you go)

12/9/03

so pnj had her first department meeting at big state u. it was all rather sane, which was a bit disorienting - and no-one made any "motions" which was something of a relief. there was, however, a man in a safari suit with a hat and a big cigar. very curious george.

12/9/03

let's all just make a pact -- ok? no reading porn on the subway before noon.

12/9/03

yeah -- well it just dawned on pnj that within a few months time she is going to be somebody (actual her name is hazel)'s mother. this would appear to be a major responsibility for which pnj is wholly unprepared (as she has been warned by numerous people). how, you might wonder could someone be unprepared for something they have been working actively to acheive for the past five years or so? something they have been warned about the need to prepare oneself for by trained professionals and general advice giver types alike? pnj is not sure. anyhow there would appear to several more pressing questions at hand -- for example, what do you think babies eat?

So pnj just read the following late breaking wire story on the boston.com web site. i think you will find that this is the kind of story that really holds deep insight into the unique relationship between humans and animals. and actually, upon further reflection it also sounds remarkably similar to relations between thatch and pnj. especially the part about the toenails. (simply substitute thatch for lowell and pnj for lewis)

Orangutan corners zoo worker to get a hug By Associated Press, 8/27/2003

ROCHESTER, N.Y. -- Sometimes even an orangutan needs a hug.

Seneca Park Zoo volunteer Paul Lewis was cleaning out a monkey habitat when he heard something move behind him Tuesday. He turned his head and saw Lowell, a 300-pound orangutan who had escaped from an adjoining cage.

Lewis, 56, an animal lover who took the part-time job three months ago because he always wanted to work at a zoo, says he wasn't afraid.

Lewis tried to slip out through a gate but the orangutan followed him and stopped him from closing it. Then Lowell wrapped his arms around Lewis' legs and held on calmly -- for nearly five minutes.

"He wasn't holding me that tight," Lewis said. "I knew I couldn't run away from him -- I mean, I wasn't going to outrun him in a cage -- so I just kind of stood there and waited to see what he would do next. He kind of controlled the situation."

When the orangutan eventually loosened his grip, he took Lewis by the hand and led him back toward his enclosure. At one point, the animal even picked up Lewis and put him down. Moments later, he pushed him out of the cage.

By then, a veterinarian arrived with a tranquilizer gun. The orangutan was knocked out for up to four hours, and the zoo staff took advantage of the down time to clip his nails

27/8/03

the mole people

so this older guy was sitting next to me on the subway today with a really big mole -- lets say the size of a susan b anthony dollar -- on his forearm. so what? -- you think. well, pnj will tell you so what. this mole was a forest --actually more of a cultivated garden. the guy had over 150 very long hairs growing right out it (pnj did a quick count while pretending to read her book) like a patch of hairy carpeting, like that expensive yak skin pillow in soho, like he fertilized and groomed his mole. and let me tell you this -- now -- finally -- in fact, at long last (hoorah!) pnj understands why moles the growth share a name with moles the animal -- because if you groom them and cultivate them (moles the growth) properly they look just like little moles. related to this, pnj now thinks that moles the animal (hey -- that sounds kind of like mott the hoople) are kind of gross.

ok -- well-- today was packed with challenges for ms. pnj -- but you, dear friends, will be gratified (though surely not surprised) to hear that even when all the chips were down -- pnj rose to the occasion.

at 6:30 am i managed to trip -- and wound up sprawled face down on the floor of the coffee shop. in the process, pnj managed to somehow mangle her big toe and was then forced to ride the subway to penn station with mangled bloody toe sitting in a pool of sticky warm blood sandaled foot experience. as it turns out, one's big toe is tremendously useful and it is almost impossible to avoid using it. but pnj, relying on her training in brownies (did you know that i can make a terribly festive pomander ball for your closet -- place your holiday orders now!) simply went to the kmart underneath penn station and florence nightengaled herself right up!

at 12 noon, pnj walked towards the bus stop from the "barracks" in which her human resources orientation meeting was (i recently learned that these very barracks were used to debrief/disbrainwash defectors from the eastern block in the 50s! now they are used to inform new employees at big state u. about the discount on the defensive driving course that is one of the little perks that makes big state u. such a great place -- not to mention showing the promotional slideshow in which all workers great and small reflect on how going to work at big state u is really fun and like a great big family, while inspiriational music plays in the background and multi-cultural images and a few brief glimpses of B-list celebrities flash over the screen -- fortunately pnj is the type of lady who takes such presentations to heart -- and was in fact brought to tears by the introductory video that was shown during jury duty) -- anyhow as pnj prepared to wait the 40 minutes for the next shuttle bus (summer schedule on the shuttle bus is a tad sparse) to carry her back to her basement office on the main campus of big state u some five miles or so away a new philosophy professor in a white volvo drove up and insisted that since pnj had been at the same human resources orientation that he should drive pnj back to her office. after much dickering in which pnj feigned that she didn't really need a ride, and questioning to make sure it wasn't too much trouble -- in fact at the overt and very deliberate INSISTENCE of the new philosophy professor, pnj got in the car -- all was fine and then when we reached a spot about a mile or so from where pnj was headed -- right before the bridge that crosses the big river -- pnj's new "friend" pulled over and let pnj out to walk the rest of the way -- as he didn't like to drive through the center of town. fair enough, and of course pinkynicejuice doesn't mind walking -- but on the big high bridge over the river???? PNJ IS AFRAID OF HEIGHTS!!! never ever ever would i elect to walk on such a bridge. something to be avoided at all costs. its bad enough in a car, much less all alone on foot!! and didn't he INSIST that he take me where i was going? nonetheless pnj traversed the bridge, clinging to the railing, life passing before her eyes, big bloody mangled toe in sandals a-throbbing.

25/8/03

as it turns out there are reasons to wear a bra in brooklyn -- (even if it is before 7 am and one is simply going to buy a much needed cup of coffee)

what more reason does a girl need than the icky man who yelled "muy bonita" at pnj and then came a little closer so her could make a nice kissy sound right into her ear?

well in case that is not enough -- there was also the man who informed pnj that "you know -- making babies is free..." pnj, for her part, refrained from lecturing this man about the high costs of In Vitro Fertilization. let's just say he was lucky to have caught pinkynicejuice BEFORE the coffee...

23/8/03

re-entry

things pinkynicejuice has noticed on the occasion of her re-entry into new york city

- there is probably the greatest range (in terms of shape and size) of women's asses here in new york than anywhere else. (pnj had that revelation in the dressing room at century 21 -- also there's really a tremendous lot of discounted fashion to be had there -- pnj recommends you run there right now!)

- a lot of people wear velour pants even when its over 90 degrees and humid.

- the coke-head family on our block with the tripod dog that craps everywhere whose son/husband (who can tell really?) stole kendall's computer has discovered fireworks

- subway conductors take their job seriously (this pnj discovered unfortunately after someone released some noxious gas -- was it pepper-spray?-- on the F train yesterday causing a passenger to pull the emergency cord)

- a blackout is a good time to head to the corner bar with k-dunk.

21/8/03

pnj is emerging out of her basketball induced depression and is now just plain old vanilla cranky. what is she cranky about? well lets not go into that -- but here are a few suggestions that would make the world a better and more reasonable environment for pinkynicejuice to live, love, work, and play.

-cream of cheddar cheese is NOT a soup. perhaps it is some kind of fondue (or as my friend anne says: fon-don't) please remove it from the "soup of the day" rotation and replace it with vegetable, or minestrone, or lentil.

- related to the above -- lobster -- is NOT an icecream flavor it is a gimmick. would stupid people please stop buying it so that the icecream shop up the street would replace it with coconut almond chip?

-abercrombie and fitch should please go away (and take tommy hilfiger with you). as thatch pointed out the other night -- anything that combines preppy and slutty is probably a bad idea.

- could it please dry out a bit? it is so moist here that pnj is afraid that a mushroom might sprout out of pokey's arm pit at any moment.

- would someone please clarify for the new york times that the headline "bush sends troops to liberia" might lead one to believe that bush sent (more than 6) troops "into" liberia, rather than to the atlantic ocean. when they fired everyone did they forget to look at the headline guy?

- can the idiots in hollywood please refrain from making otherwise decent actors speak in absolutely unbelievably butchered and ridiculous boston accents (examples include rob morrow in quiz show, diane lane in perfect storm, tom hanks in catch me if you can...pnj could go on....)! this ridiculous and highly irritating practice only leads to those horrifying encounters where someone from the wisonsin dells upon meeting a bostonian feels the need to nudge them and shout "pahk the cah in hahvad yahd". (when really we NEVER say that and its not at all like someone can park there anyways. they'd tow your ass in heartbeat. we say -- i was down in the park drinking cutty sark in the dark with clark the aardvark)

- could everyone just please call me by my stage name: professor foofie q. snubington, phd.

6/8/03

well they have done it. the knicks have traded latrell sprewell and gotten in exchange...keith van horn! nice move -- let's trade the one guy on the team who actually plays like he gives a crap and get some oversized wuss in knee socks who no-one else wants because despite being an f-ing giant he plays like rene zellwegger (sp?). kevin mchale plays to win -- minnesota is looking fine -- kg and olowokandi and cassell and now spree. now that's a team. for her part, pnj will now abandon the knicks and return to the team of her youth -- the celtics -- a move which forces her to sacrifice a new purse and shoes in favor of some ridiculously overpriced cable tv service. it's almost as though the knicks gm didn't even think of the fashion ramifications for pnj when he made this bonehead deal...

why is fudge -- of all things -- a seaside food? yeah -- after a day at the beach, when i am kind of hot and salty and sticky, and the sun is shining, there is nothing i want more than to tuck into a big ol gnarly piece of fudge... how completely refreshing.

a wig

ok -- so pnj really wants a wig. in fact, i've wanted a wig for ages, but have been too lazy to get one. i wonder what would happen if i showed up for my new job wearing some kind of straight-haired, red-haired, short-haired wig. i think i am going to get an afro one too while i am at it. anyhow one wonders what is allowed and all fashionwise in academia. its one of those weird work things where you know there is a rule somewhere but no one is actively policiting it on the spot, and sometimes it seems that they give you more leeway if you are an anthropologist or a poet or a computer science gal/guy than if you are an economist or some other totally uptight discipline that spends its time "modelling" everything and then trying to hide everything that doesn't fit into the model with weird language, or just f-ing squeeze it into the model like those people in the japanese subway who wear the little white gloves and pack all the businessmen and little school kids and what have you into the subway cars... yeah good to be in a field where you don't have to wear pantyhose and a suit -- but sometimes pnj fears that she is pushing it a bit too far. usually this phase in the semester is set in motion by some sort of laundry crisis which is set in motion by some sort of laziness crisis. then prof. pnj is left standing in her room at 6 in the morning digging through the piles of clothing on her floor wondering if perhaps those purple glitter tights with the denim skirt and sneakers might not be just fine -- after all they are at least clean....

you know what i love about baseball? well -- ONE of the things i love about baseball -- the whole rock, paper, scissors aspect of it. f-ing fabulous -- talk about mind games.

you know when someone who always made you super happy dies, you just want to take a minute -- that's why it sucks that all of pnj's celia cruz cds are back in brooklyn.

22/7/03

the enigma

so there is a nude beach here on martha's vineyard -- really one of the most spectacular beaches on the island -- and the site of pokey's famous battle with the muskrat. (can you believe that thatcher had never heard of the song muskrat love -- until then?) anyhow though we try to limit our trips to the nude beach to wintertime- pnj does occasionally go there in fairer weather to commune with the glory of nature, despite the fact that the warm weather brings the nudists and your good friend pnj is a wicked uptight prude who would rather not see naked people -- not to mention the ever present fear that pokey will go over to a group of them and begin sniffing their genitals -- this has threatened to happen on several occasions --fortunately, the lure of dog treats is powerful (and of course the time when some icky naked man started hitting on my friend steph and i one day in like october when the beach was deserted and we were jus sitting on a rock, wearing jeans and sweatshirts and just trying to eat these totally giant donuts we had (humphreys on this island makes the most amazing donuts filled with homemade blueberry filling -- outrageous!!)and watch the sandpipers, and this middle-aged banker on his weekend off type naked guy comes up and tries to hit on us -- i mean can a girl just enjoy her donut in peace with out some penis wielding loser bugging her?) ... anyhow, pnj finds the nude beach very confusing. let me put it this way -- why would someone wear no clothes, but still don sneakers, a nike fanny pack, and a baseball cap? why would someone only wear accessories, but no clothes? isn't that a bit contradictory? plus most of the nudists look horribly sunburned -- so if sneakers don't get in the way of the whole nudist look and ethos -- then surely a little sunscreen isn't out of the question -- right? and what are they carrying in those fanny packs and napsacks on the beach if not at least some sunscreen? pnj once posed this question to her neighbor with whom she was dog walking in the nearby nature preserve. my neighbor, for her part, looked puzzled and revealed that not only did she not know the answer to the nudist in sneakers and fannypack puzzle -- but also that she had always assumed it was just another crazy thing that white people did, and was midly relieved to hear that not all white people were closet nudists. well glad we straightened out that part of it at least.

pnj hasn't felt much like blogging of late. not that i haven't missed you all terribly -- i just haven't had much to say for myself. i think i know why. the shopping moratorium that the ever fiscally responsible thatch suggested several months back continues and that is pretty much sucking the life-force out of me. without rampant consumerism pnj is slowly drying out and turning into a small pile of dust. oh well. perhaps some celebrity will come along and snort me and i will begin a new journey in this crazy, mad cap, adventure game we call "life".

whatever. anyhow -- my fabulous neighbor willie just came home from fishing and came to give us a big slab of mako shark he just caught. of course pnj answered the door -- in her pj's at 8:30 pm on a friday night. fortunately i had not yet applied the algae face mask -- but nonetheless -- it does leave one feeling a tad loserish. in fact, this has been a challenge pnj's entire life. your friend pinky nice juice is a morning girl.

pull up your pants.

that's right -- pull up your pants! while at first glance the contents of this blog might seem better suited to the pnj advice column, upon closer examination you, dear friend, will note that pnj is not offering advice here -- but rather giving orders and telling it like it is.

if the crotch of your pants is slung down around your knees, then yes -- i am talking to you -- and i, pinkynicejuice, command you-- young men out there to pull up your pants!

let pinkynicejuice explain something about pants. pants, as it turns out, are a wonderful invention. yes -- an opportunitity to express yourself is contained in each and every act of donning pants (and in every pair of pants you wear) -- but pants, in fact, offer more than a mere chance to identify oneself. they are also quite utilitarian, and pnj fears that many young men of today are not getting the maximum benefit from their pants.

not only are pants fashionable and good for the economy -- but they can also cover your tushy. if your pants aren't covering your tush -- well, then you are not getting your money's worth. pants also offer wonderful mobility while still allowing you to carry your wallet and keys (a fact to which any lady out there wearing a skirt and carrying a purse can attest). try this little test based on a simple rhyme (easy to memorize) to see if your pants are offering the mobility you deserve. go put on your pants. then do a little dance. see if you can't prance in your pair of pants. ok -- if you can't dance and prance without your pants getting in your way it probably means that they are too large for you and cramping your style.

if you aren't getting the maximum reward from your choice of pants consider these options. get new pants -- one's that fit. OR if secretly you are wearing those gynormous pants because you have some kind of exhibitionist need for us all to see your underpants, then stop sacrificing mobility. just wear your underpants, and a set of legwarmers or knee socks. no need for pants at all.

2/7/03

neighbors

here on martha's vineyard one can drown in how cute everything is -- its all so incredibly kittens and mitten and fudge and ceramic ducks that at times one can feel a bit angry. well only in the summer -- in the winter the cuteness all looks really seedy, like an abandoned carnival or something -- which is extremely fabulous and makes you feel compelled to drive about the island in the fog shouting -- grrr pirates!! anyhow people like to personalize their homes by giving them names, so one sees plaques on houses that say things like: "firefly" or "heart's desire" or a personal favorite: "the captain and his lady" -- which i always imagine is owned by some huggie bear (from starskey and hutch) type personae. this of course reminds pnj of thatch's very old red pontiac firebird station wagon that he had when we first met (and for several years hence)-- the car we all called "the bird". the bird was an incredible car -- she had those amazing floaty american 80s car shock absorbers, and the big super loose power steering wheel where you can parallel park by just using your index finger. and there was this very unsettling child's bathing suit that was always floating around in the way back beneath some tools (until it was enlisted to clean up cat poop one day), and this irritating sticky melted candy phenomenon on the dash -- created by one of thatch's ex-girlfriends (but we wont talk about her now will we -- given how thoroughly OUT of the picture she now is...). in fact the bird was so excellent that she was even the subject of a most beautiful tune performed by sinkhole -- thatch's former band.

anyhow the bird was festooned with bumper stickers proclaiming such slogans as "sun, suds, and sex!" and "single and looking to mingle" and "grandparents are special people" (which -- pnj might add -- is true and a sentiment that we here in america might do more to promote)and the best one "i like my whickey on ice and my women on fire" (and a big shout out to coach who remembered this!) there were quite a few of these and most of them were fancied up versions of some basic bumper sticker sentiment that seeks to unite tits, cars, and beer into a holy triad of sorts-- in fact, they reminded me a bit of my friend arthur's story about being at a waffle house in atlanta with a friend who was trying to play the waffle house juke box-- but it jammed, and out of the back of the waffle house some incredibly erudite patron proclaimed -- "hit it like you hit your wife!" (that's pinkynicejuice's long winded way of saying redneck while still maintaining her pc academic thang) -- but pnj digresses -- anyhow one sunday morning thatch and i were on our way somewhere and as we pulled out of our parking space and were turning the corner in front of our building (in an industrial section of south boston which was always deserted on the weekend) we passed a certain neighborhood denizen -- a homeless guy who eliot once gave several cases of empties to one morning -- thus eliciting an enthusiastic and totally unsolicited vow from this guy to never again take a dump behind our building again (ok -- thanks! and you, dear reader, might take this little kernel of knowledge with you and store it away for just in case -- pnj thinks you will agree that a few empty bottles is a small price to pay to prevent further episodes of human defecation in one's backyard)-- anyhow -- this guy who was sitting on the curb tucking into some boone's wild island stood up and said to thatch -- "is that YOUR car?" with a totally blown away awe-struck look and thatch said yeah. and he said "well ALRIGHT" and gave the thumbs up. now that's the kind of enthusiasm and appreciation and efforts at mutual understanding and respect that one is looking for from their neighbors.

30/6/03

who is my absolutely favorite celebrity of all time?

jerry remy. that's who.

there are some scary parents out there. in fact, if you -- like me -- enjoy wallowing in how challenging your childhood was, and perhaps complaining about how you felt compelled to take tennis lessons even though it was perfectly obvious to all who knew you that pinkynicejuice, (who we might at least mention was a mean "jacks" player, and knew like a gazillion moves in cat's cradle), sucked at sports and lacked a certain eye hand co-ordination which, in fact, led her piano teacher to burst into tears and forbid her from ever playing the piano again (pnj for her part remained dry-eyed throughout this encounter -- i mean no piano, no biggie, just relax lady) -- anyhow if that is you -- then you must rush out and get some perspective. that is what pnj did this afternoon -- on the advice of her brother-in-law and sister-in-law (and a big shout out to nancy who always exhibits fabulous taste in pop-culture)-- me and thatch went and saw SPELLBOUND, the documentary about the national spelling bee in washington. my goodness, it was rather intense, by the end (as thatch pointed out) they were practically making words up. yeah. anyhow, upon watching the film, suddenly the fact that my father's favorite word when pnj was small was "dink" seemed incredibly heartwarming.

29/6/03

polar bear

reading the blog of kdunk today -- over at morethandonuts
which was in turn, inspired by laura holder (an excellent blogger in her own right), reminded pnj of a little tale of her own about talking (and other things) in one's sleep...so a big shout out to kdunk and lauraholder and other sleep-blogging ladies!

now pinkynicejuice (who always keeps her cards close to the chest and all that) naturally, is not one to talk in her sleep. thatcher, however is another story. but, alas, it does not stop with talking -- as the following tale of woe from four summers ago will reveal.

on that fateful night, thatcher was sporting a plaster cast on his hand, having suffered a terrifically macho injury while playing soccer a few weeks earlier, an injury which subsequently required surgery and the consumption of several demerol. with his hand bound into a permanent greeting, we were calling thatch the polar bear -- an animal he truly resembles. anyhow, we were in our tiny house in oak bluffs, sleeping right across the hall from our truly fabulous friends john and brittney who had come to visit for the weekend. and pnj was awakened from her customary light, but comfy slumber to the sight of thatcher sitting straight up in bed, yelling something at me. suddenly gynormous thatcher -- the polar bear -- was pinning me down and beating me on the head with his plaster cast. pnj -- having been trained well for emergencies of all kinds by her mother -- began yelling "help!" "help!!" "john! brittney! help!!" help, however, was not forthcoming. instead -- the throbbing pain that is caused by beating one's spouse about the head with one's recently operated upon and cast covered hand --brought this sorry episode to a close, and thatcher began to lie on the bed moaining in pain and asking -- what happened? -- well as you can imagine, your friend pnj was a tad confused over the answer to that question herself. what did happen? and when, she wondered, might her head cease pounding...

well -- i am, after all, a trained historian, and can therefore reconstruct events. (yes, of course, you, dear friend, can also reconstruct events -- but mine could have properly formatted footnotes if i so choose) so with a little discussion, soon we discovered that thatch (world's most peaceful -- and extremely huge guy) had in fact, been ASLEEP this whole time. indeed he had dreamt something of a bad dream -- one in which, i pinkynicejuice was being attacked by a bad force of some sort (too many video games can cause one to dream about evil forces and gnomes carrying tiny shovels, and jedi knights gone wrong and all that), and that he was beating that evil intruder to get him off of me -- headlights from a passing car only confirmed this fact, as did the fact that pnj was screaming for help. so he was not sleep-walking or sleep-talking, but in fact, sleep-defending his wife!

in the morning of course we reviewed all of this with john and brittney.

pnj: didn't you guys hear me screaming for help?

john: yeah. we thought it was some kind of weird sex game.

20/6/03

chivalry is not dead! but it can be a tad annoying...

as it turns out, ms. pnj can park her car all by herself. why is it than when i am about to parallel park (a skill at which pinkynicejuice excels -- unlike, say, driving on the highway -- a skill at which she is less than mediocre) some random man (indeed it is always a man and never in all my life a woman) suddenly appears out of nowhere and starts making all kinds of crazy hand gestures and saying things like "ok keep coming, cut it! cut it! stop! ok, back..." supposedly ushering idiotic female me into my spot -- like pnj is operating a commercial aircraft that is easing up to the "jetway." in fact, yesterday this phenomenon took the form of some 17 year old boy who was decked out in abercrombie and fitch from head to toe and sporting that ridiculous hair that is bleached only at the tips, suddenly appearing out of nowhere and standing in my parking space while directing me. now how is pnj going to park melba, her massive 15 year old station wagon, if some barely post-pubescent idiot who has been driving for 6 months is standing IN her spot being "helpful"?

20/6/03

cavemen and caveladies

last week your friend and confidant pnj read the most fascinating story in the paper about some idiot who is out there promoting "raw foods" -- its really something of a "movement" -- not in the symphonic or bowel sense, but actually in the populist sense. this means that he only eats (and cooks -- well actually not cooks, but prepares -- at his restaurant) foods that have not been cooked. this, of course is far more natural (never mind that they have been dehydrated, peeled, pureed, marinated, mixed, pounded, and goodness only knows whatelse) and mommy nature does indeed know best. (never mind also that while mommy nature did invent fire -- via lightening and all that, she did not do likewise with the ronco food dehydrator -- a minor matter, or was it cavemen and caveladies who invented fire?). in fact, as this guy was suggesting, this was the diet of cavemen -- those incredibly virile, and remarkably healthy men of long ago who made that fabulous rock art and dragged their fur wearing insanely foxy and extremely healthy caveladies around by their tousled hair (inbetween painting cave art and stone tools). now as an historian of medicine, dr.p.n.juice can attest to the fact that cavemen and cave ladies were and INCREDIBLY healthy bunch (festering sores and intenstinal worms aside)-- in fact, perhaps it makes sense to really go for it all the way. why stop at raw food -- why not just live in a cave and wear underpants made from some old hyena pelt? i think we'd all live longer.

you talk too much.
you never shut up.
i said you talk too much.
oh boy you never shut up.

you're always spreading rumors whether bad or good.
you're the damn walter cronkite of the neighborhood.

run dmc rules

turtles are cute, but they kind of freak pnj out -- you know what i mean?

13/6/03

my nephew -- who is four -- just got scooby doo underpants and he is wicked pumped. aren't you jealous?

13/6/03

um...ok, anyone who thought that pnj was exaggerating when she wrote about the fear of riding through town in a coach drawn by white horses can come to my house (in oak bluffs -- not brooklyn) RIGHT NOW -- even as we speak a PINK carriage pulled by two (admittedly palimino) horses, driven by a guy in a top hat and tails, and festooned with wedding flowers is passing. followed by a couple of annoyed looking fishermen who are just trying to get tony's market to buy some f-ing beer.

7/6/03

oh -- why don't we actually PLAY dikembe mutombo... duh.

7/6/03

the academic mode of production...

pnj and pokey recently received the following missive from a fabulous friend, dr.bottomofthetotempolenewphd, who is working in the trenches out there at anonymous u.

Dear pnj (and pokey too because she seems like the type of dog to care about such matters), [this is, in fact, true -- pokey cares deeply]

Should you ever create another website, perhaps it will be to showcase evidence of horrors/injustice/misery of life in academia. Prof. Bottom of the totem pole would like to submit the following evidence for archive.

How it really is in academia. Actual emails included, but names changed to protect privacy of morons.

Round 1:

Hi Dr. Lazy,

I'm working on revising a paper summarizing the background section of the really cool idea grant. I don't know if Prof Peon sent this paper to you for review, but she had listed your name as an author on an early draft. I am leaving her on as first author. I need to check on your interest in continuing to work on this paper, whether you have time to do so, etc.

Sincerely,

Dr. Take all the Credit

Round 2:

Dear Dr. Take all the credit,

Thanks very much for letting me know about this. I would like to continue to be involved [i.e. be kept on as author]. I appreciate your moving this paper ahead.

Regards, Dr. Lazy

Round 3:

Dear Bottom of the totem pole new ph.d.,

[obviously irritated] I'm not quite sure why Dr. Peon listed Dr. Lazy's name on the draft, but I am uncomfortable taking Dr. Lazy off unilaterally so please leave her on as an author.

Best,

Dr. Take all the Credit

THE TRUTH - NEITHER DR. LAZY NOR DR. TAKE ALL THE CREDIT ARE REVISING

THIS PAPER. IT IS ALL BEING DONE BY DR. BOTTOM OF THE TOTEM POLE NEW PHD.

7/6/03

have you missed me?

because, pnj has certainly missed you. where has pinky been, you may have wondered...perhaps she was at the G8 summit, giving some much needed advice...or maybe she was in pittsburg watching the sox and the pirates play in those ridiculous 1903 "vintage" outfits (um, did they really have polyester in 1903?). well -- you were wrong. your friend pnj has been right here all along, in her tiny living room huddled over a folding card table she set up, completing THE HARDEST JIGSAW PUZZLE ON EARTH!! and now, in a fit of triumph, i return to mere mortal pursuits here in the world of blogging.

6/6/03

pnj reveals her true self!

to the chair of her department at big state u. oh yes she does. so prof. pnj (actually assistant prof. pnj -- but let's not get technical) despite all promises to herself to the contrary has jumped on the very first opportunity to reveal her deep neuroses, rampant disorganization, and general discombobulation to the chair of her new department. said chair simply wanted to know when pnj would be heading to big state u. to move into her new office. pnj, for her part, felt the need to reply to this two line email with FOUR, count 'em four separate email responses, each superceding the other, with escalating subject lines moving quickly from "Re: office", to "ignore previous", to "follow up query", to "oops, oh no -- ignore all previous!!", and each chock full of superfluous details about pnj's personal logistics, including dog sitting and transportation issues -- details which the new chair no doubt finds positively fascinating and highly pertinent. somehow pnj suspects this will earn her an office next to the boiler room, where the other faculty can hope to avoid her.

29/5/03

i do! (take your huevos and scramble them in a bowl for all to see and taste).

why are some weddings so incredibly emasculating? pinky nice juice often wonders about this. (and yes, pnj is up on the voluminous lit out there on gender identity, the construction of masculinity and the like, but here really we are talking about societal norms and something Marx called commodity fetishism) -- truly there are few things more depressing than hearing one's male friend regurgitate drivel from Martha Stewart Weddings about table linen and center pieces.

sometimes pnj senses that what women take to be fear of committment on behalf of their male partners is in actual fact, fear of forcing one's nephew to dress as little lord fauntleroy, or fear of riding in a white coach pulled by trusted white stallions through the streets of one's home town...

oh yeah -- and why do the invitations come with that little piece of tissue paper? answer me that.

28/5/03

does anyone out there think it is weird that thatch is so tall and pnj is so short? if not let pnj offer you this little math problem

If Sean Bradley is 7'6" and Thatcher is 6'4" and Pokeythedog is 2'10" (with ears standing straight up) -- how tall is Pinky Nice Juice if the following conditions are true?

The difference in height between Sean Bradley and PNJ is equal to that between PNJ and pokeythedog.

The difference in height between Sean Bradley and Thatch is equal to that between Thatch and PNJ.

ATTENTION!!!!! ACHTUNG!!! HEY - YOU!!!!

Did you all see that SLOWER.NET -- the mindbogglingly fabulous and absolutely supreme website of pnj's friend and general brooklyn maven e. shepard was described in yesterday's NEW YORK TIMES (pnj does believe that is the newspaper of record in nueva york ciudad) as essentially the hidden jewel of the internet!!!! fabulous. and he makes his own pasta too...

PULA!!! PULA!!!

26/5/03

saturday morning your close friend and confidant (sp?), ms. pinkynicejuice, made a vow that she would go for two whole weeks eschewing dessert -- just for the sheer mind over matter, holistic willpower, isis warrior goddess, pnj can do anything she puts her mind to thrill of it all -- and to stunt the growth of my ass. here is my first occasion to update you all on my progress.

saturday -- cannoli

sunday -- rice pudding

(this bowl of pudding was acquired at the insistance of anne from the new rice pudding hut in nolita -- From Rice to Rices. At long last we new yorkers can access twenty different flavors of rice pudding -- served in a new wave, vaguely scandanavian, futuristic pod room that looks like a cross between a set from sleeper and a stanley kubrick film (and a big shout out to the guy behind me in line who came up with the kubrick reference). as a bostonian, naturally the whole pudding motif made me powerfully homesick for the former "pudding it first" in coolidge corner.

monday -- macaroons (and pnj has high hopes for an italian ice later this evening)

so far so good...

19/5/03

is there some sort of expression about having a hair across one's ass -- or did i make it up this weekend, based on personal experience?

19/5/03

rummy

well it turns out that our secretary of defense -- d. rumsfeld --is a poet. thatcher found the following poem on the slate -- where they are featuring a lovely selection of rummy's verses, all taken from the defense department website. pnj is considering commissioning this underground talent to write one about pokeythedog

The Unknown
As we know,
There are known knowns.
There are things we know we know.
We also know
There are known unknowns.
That is to say
We know there are some things
We do not know.
But there are also unknown unknowns,
The ones we don't know
We don't know.

—Feb. 12, 2002, Department of Defense news briefing

17/5/03

transitions

yesterday was a day of transitions. some good some bad.

pnj submitted her grades, attended the end of the year department fete, and bid goodbye to sexist tech. sala sentle sexist tech, sekolo se se crappy. (that's setswinglish for-- stay well craphole).

the spurs not only beat the lakers, who were forced to leave the playoffs get into their custom made sports cars and head home to their multi-million dollar mansions in tears (literally -- which pnj thinks is a little much frankly), they slaughtered them. wiped the floor with them. banana cream pie in the faced them. tsamaya sentle lakers, bahumi ba ba sekang dikeledi. (that's setswinglish for -- go well tycoons who shed tears).

june carter cash died. my setswinglish isn't good enough to pay tribute.

16/5/03

having just now completed the grading of her students' final papers for the semester, pinky nice juice feels it necessary to remind you, dear friends, of something she apparently neglected to tell her students.

africa, as it turns out, is a continent. not a country.

13/5/03

hooray we're moving on up...

well, in the great tradition of george and wheezy jefferson (or jed, granny, jethro, and miss ellie clamped -- take your pick) it looks like pnj, thatcher, and pokeythedog are headed uptown to manhattan, leaving brooklyn behind for the benefits of apartment ownership (and a big shout out to john emlyn lewis and his fantabulous blog for setting pnj straight on why this might actually be a reasonable thing to do). this potential move is bitter-sweet to say the least -- as there is truly NO place on earth that could possibly kick ass like Brooklyn. Below, pnj offers you concrete and irrefutable evidence of why...

last weekend, as she emerged from the subway and walked the few short blocks to chez-pokey, pnj encountered the following.

12/5/03

things pnj inherited from her mother

well, the most significant thing pnj inherited from her mom, is the compulsion to buy bread (this includes muffinry, cakes, and such)to assuage anxiety. in fact if you open the freezer of Mmapinkynicejuice (that's Setswana for the pnj's mom) you will find a tremendous assortment of bread and bread products, all organized in little freezer bags and such. pnj cannot claim any organizational scheme, but she did go out earlier for shampoo and instead returned home with a two pound chocolate babka.

12/5/03

morethandonuts' weather forecast yesterday: cold and muggy with a chance of sun...

pinkynicejuice's weather forecast today: cloudy, with a chance of meatballs

12/5/03

the horror...

pnj has seen something most unpleasant.

let me put it this way -- if you are in the market and your five year old child points to something and asks what it is -- the following should NEVER be the reply-

...well lillith (or fantasia or fallon or whatever they are calling snotty little new york baby girls on the upper east side at the moment), that is a semi-soft, raw, cow's milk cheese with a washed rind from the pyrennes, you'll like it -- its similar to the cheese you enjoy from the trappist monestary near Zurich...

whatever happened to lunchables?

9/5/03

(to the tune of the rainbow connection, from The Muppet Movie)

why are there so many songs about pokey

and what's on her underside?

pokey's a doggie, but only a doggie

and canines have nothing to hide

its so amazing, how she just keeps grazing

as though she were really a cow

someday we'll find it, the pokey connection,

the lovers, the dreamers and poke

all of us under her spell,

we know that's its probably magic...

ok -- you know what are absolutely adorable? puppies! that's what.

so just now pnj and thatcher were stepping out of a cab onto henry street one half block from our apartment, when a police van pulled up and the two cops in it asked thatcher and pnj to show some id. they also asked to see the contents of our bag of burritos. later they looked sheepish when they identified that the empty bottle thatcher was carrying had previously contained GINGER beer, not real beer.

let me ask you this -- even if it were an empty bottle of real beer -- in fact, even if it were an empty bottle of malt liquor -- dont you think that new york's finest might have some better things to be worrying about? pnj guesses that they must be done detaining all the middle eastern immigrants in the city and have now moved on to ginger beer drinking new englanders.

4/5/03

last thursday pnj had a dentist appointment. this was my first time with my new dentist -- he's a bit odd but assured me that he is a great dentist and that he "teaches at columbia and nyu for free -- i mean i just offer them my services" (quite the act of generosity), he also maintains the largest dental website on the internet. plus he is a self-published author and gave me a free copy of his book (which pnj was forced to leave in a garbage bin outside, since she was traveling light), it was almost entirely made up of glossy color photos of "conditions" that can happen in one's mouth, and he used the phrase "informed consent" like 500 times during our appointment.

anyhow -- afterwards pnj walked 70 some off blocks from rockefeller center up to her meeting at columbia with her fly down the entire way.

hello new york

some nights, after a few drinks with a friend, riding home over the brooklyn bridge while your cab driver speaks bambara into his cell phone and plays classic hits on the radio -- it is easy to love new york...

3/5/03

pnj has a new boyfriend and his name is Maurice Cheeks!

3/5/03

i'm not a fighter pilot, but i play one on tv

pnj feels the need to gently remind out president that some might find it a bit confusing to see him landing on an aircraft carrier (in a plane someone else is piloting) and then getting photographed up the wazoo in an aviator suit (is that what they call it?) -- after using his daddy's connections to scam out of combat service during vietnam. why not just go for it and get an astronaut suit and wear that around some with images of the moon landing playing in the background?

2/5/03

i rule!! no wait a minute....

last night pinky nice juice arrived home after a long day at sexist tech to an incredible site. my goodness!! a ROYALTY check (for 53 bucks) from sales of my doctoral dissertation. of course, pnj immediately showed thatcher, who was dutifully proud of the 13 sales this represented.

and then ms. pnj spent several moments basking in what a supreme bad ass she was -- i mean this much money just from selling doctoral dissertations! who buys doctoral dissertations anyhow? perhaps my research is not as obsure as i have been led to believe. well, pnj must be making quite a name for herself in the fast paced world of african history if this many people are willing to put down cold hard cash for my dissertation. perhaps after it becomes a book i can just quit my day job and write full time. no need to teach -- i can simply collect ROYALTY checks. In fact, I AM essentially royalty myself at this point. now i know why they call it that (certainly there is no underlying historical explanation). pokey can sleep on a cashmere pillow and eat nothing but steak and the thigh bones of organically raised buffalo, and i, pinky nice juice, well i will probably need a whole new wardrobe -- i will be a "writer" after all...and maybe i can get one of those cute Mini cars -- maybe in green -- yes definitely green (with a sunroof)... why am i so consumed with shopping? this is an academic, and intellectual success the value of which clearly transcends any material significance....

ooops. wait a second. hold on. and then it dawned on your friend pnj ever so slowly. I -- Pinky Nice Juice -- bought those copies of my dissertation, and sent them to friends and organizations who helped me in Botswana.

29/4/03

here's a thought. before you subject a room full of people to your "ideas" --your so-called "presentation" -- why dont you practice it first? and while you are at it, get a watch too. congratulations that you can use "power point" -- we are all terribly impressed with your gynormous bullet points and graphics. but pinky nice juice and her colleagues would so appreciate it - if you could limit your mindnumbingly boring remarks to the time alloted.

25/4/03

i am using thatcher's computer - its is tremendously high tech and runs on linux and is really so ultimately geeky. just like thatch. in fact, if i were to give this computer a bad haircut, a punk rock t-shirt, a kiss belt buckle, a burrito, and a pair of glasses i bet his own mother couldn't tell the difference.

25/4/03

today is one of those days where pnj woke up already wanting to cry. is this simply the hang over from how many times she stuck her foot in her mouth yesterday? or is it a gentle warning from the future, that today is already lost -- it can only go downhill from here? time will tell...

24/4/03

if you can't get a job -- go to graduate school!

yeah that's right. that makes a lot of sense. as people regularly insinuated to me during my entire interminably long tenure as a graduate student -- it is really just some sort of escapist enterprise for lazy, pussy, self-important, esoteric types who can't be bothered to do any actual work (oh yeah, aside from waiting tables, and teaching undergrads at elite institutions where the students dont actually meet the professors -- but that of course doesn't count -- its "training" and a "rite of passage" -- not work)

perhaps true -- but that is also the kind of mentality that produces such stellar moments at sexist tech as pnj's graduate seminar last year in which a terribly sophisticated graduate student objected to the whole health care enterprise on humanitarian grounds. "i mean -- dont you guys think that it is just wrong for us to be like destroying viruses and bacteria -- aren't they living creatures too?"

you got me there...

22/4/03

today in class pinkynicejuice had to say a few words about clitorodectomy... somedays pnj wishes she taught home ec. making denim back packs and pizza bagels seems much more clear cut.

21/4/03

oops - after struggling with the incredibly cryptic menu at the japanese soba restaurant today, pinky nice juice inadvertently ordered TWO lunches - which was a tad embarassing -- and rather expensive when it all came.

belch.

this reminds me of the tale of a certain woman i knew in college who went to germany on her honeymoon. she and her new husband stayed at a pension which is like a cross between a mini-hotel and a bed and breakfast -- uber european. apparently this pension was run by a rather stern, deeply intimidating german lady.

the first morning they went down to breakfast, where the lady had laid out a little buffet with a selection of cereal and bread and jam and hard boiled eggs and fruit and whathaveyou. well, our protagonist was a little uncertain about how the whole system worked, and feeling a bit intimidated and confused and also no doubt awed by the solid germanic physiques that surrounded her, mistook the rather large serving bowl of granola to be a single portion of granola. so she poured milk on it and brought it to her table -- where her new husband informed her that she had just taken the granola that was intended to feed all 10 people staying at the pension. realizing her mistake she looked up and found the pension frau lady/owner glaring at her, and decided that the best thing to do was to pretend that she meant to take that much granola. in fact, she f-ing LOVES granola and begins most days with a substantial two pound bowl of the stuff -- and she demonstrated as much by forcefeeding herself the entire bowl -- which took like an hour and pretty much dominated the whole first day of her honeymoon.

18/4/03

bananas and pork

today -- on her way back from the pork store (where pnj was treated to the MOST outstanding eggplant parm hero one can possibly imagine -- and the absolutely mind-boggling event of the owners of the pork store sharing their thoughts on the pork store featured on the sopranos (i mean there are only so many pork stores out there so one assumes that they have a particular take on the matter)-- this conversation was spurred on by the fact that one of the owners of my pork store was at the knicks game this week and saw several of the sopranos actors in the stands -- including ** christopher** whom he described as "a complete midget -- the guy is only as tall as spike lee" -- having once seen spike lee myself in martha's vineyard pnj is disheartened to report that he is in fact, the same height as yours truly -- pinkynicejuice) -- anyhow returning home from the pork store -- pinkynicejuice was followed by a little man in a straw hat with a spanish accent who kept right behind me saying over and over again -- banana. i want a roasted banana. banana. banana. i want a roasted banana.

do you think this is some kind of message???

17/4/03

the combination of the blog below and pokey's dog nose burrowed into my leg reminds me of when i first got pokey and a few people felt it must be their duty to confront me with the truth of the matter(knowing of my longstanding and fraught attempts to have a baby) and said "you realize that you are just getting a dog because you can't have a baby". my reply: "yes i do -- so what is your point?"

i mean its not like i was dressing pokey up in a baby bonnet and pushing her about the town in one of those giant strollers that encourage people to carry their life's possessions with them... leave me and pokey alone.

17/4/03

ok -- if one more person assures pinkynicejuice in no uncertain terms that nothing "i mean nothing" can possibly prepare her for how incredibly consuming and overwhelming and blowaway life changing it is to be a mother -- and then follows up this bold statement offered with all the hubris that only parents can muster -- with a query as to what pnj is doing to prepare herself -- pnj will stab them in the eye with a dull fork. yes -- mommies and daddies of the world -- let me see if i have got this straight-- there is NOTHING i can do to prepare myself -- i am doomed to be unprepared -- so i must begin preparing immediately...

17/4/03

today, purusing the always fabulous website of morethandonuts, pinky nice juice enjoyed a deep moment of utter homesickness for beach and sand and grass. it is finally warming up here and after a very new york kind of weekend, it is easy to long for such places.

then just now, walking through the cement maze of sexist tech, pnj realized that actually she was longing for something much further out of reach.

today, i wish i were in botswana. if i could be anywhere right now, it would be stretched out next to dikeledi, lying on a black and white goat skin mat, in the cool shade of the bougainvilla arbor at mma moremi's compound -- gossiping about friends and coworkers, or perhaps planning what kinds of sandwiches to make for her two boys to take to school that week.

somedays the world is much too big

14/4/03

this morning pinky nice juice was fored to wake pokeythedog up at 9:30 am -- as i had grown impatient waiting to take her on her morning walk. i ask you --what kind of self-respecting dog needs to be woken up in the morning? whatever happened to the days when dogs woke you up -- carrying their leash in their mouth?

11/4/03

if thatcher and pinky nice juice are to remain married there is one thing above all that we must avoid at all costs-- shopping together. this includes a brief trip to the deli.

10/4/03

_-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

amidst all her constant bitching and moaning about life at sexist tech -- perhaps pinky nice juice has neglected to pay tribute to her colleague -- N. It is hard to sum up the utter fabulousness of N. -- but perhaps the following will suggest something of it to you all -- dear friends. This morning, pnj arrived at work, punched the key pad security code to enter the department office (oh yes! we are all terribly secure at sexist tech with this state of the art 1960s door locking mechanism, which also features on the women's room --a student told me that it was instituted in response to some sexual assault cases -- reassuring...)to find that her mail box contained a certain plastic bag filled with soft, chewable, non-toxic and utterly adorable DOG TOYS!!!! a gift from N. to pokeythedog. the plush brown and pink "slice-o-cake" is pnj's personal favorite -- in fact, it looks good enough to eat!

7/4/03

new york's bravest meet new york's assholes

early this morning (all too early thanks to day light savings time, which pinky nice juice thinks should mark the end for all snow possiblities for the season -- thank you very much -- are you listening mommy nature???) pnj and pokey the dog encountered the following scene a mere two blocks from their abode. three fire trucks (including a hook and ladder) and two smaller fire vehicles all with lights flashing and new york's bravest pouring out of them, wielding axes and other such iconic pieces of fire fighting paraphernalia were blocking the street, clearly in an attempt to save brooklyn based blood and treasure (life and limb -- take your pick). behind them were a line of several motorists, who seeing that they would now have to make (oh no!!!) a LEFT turn instead of going straight, began to honk incessantly.

oh yes, please mr fireman, stop lollygagging about trying to save lives and move your gynormous trucks out of MY way -- go back to your firehouse, make a pot of that chili for which you are so famous -- and read some of that fan mail from 9/11. i need to get my SUV into manhattan before the movie playing on the vcr with which it is equipped finishes and i am forced to give my child another ridilin. yes, move, get out of my way -- i am that most enormous of new york assholes who cannot take public transportation...

all this the day after massive rallies were help throughout the city to protest the mayor's plan to close several firehouses due to budget cuts.

7/4/03

today pnj took herself out for a little lunch. unfortunately her fancy grilled cheese and coffee experience was marred by a very disturbing sight. a woman sitting across from me was actually wearing a t-shirt that said, FUCK BOSTON RED SOX. there are times in life where pnj wishes she weren't such a big wuss...

3/4/03

well - fancy that -- pnj just saw **iman** the supermodel. may i take this opportunity to say that she is looking remarkably foxy for a lady of her age.

29/3/03

big pharma meets the richest computer geek on the planet

pnj just had a little phone chat with the janus-faced devil. and just as in movies like **bedazzled**, this devil has morphed into a very seductive guise, offering the promise of medical care for many in need (and of course some large homes with teams of servants for some not in need)...as always after talking to the devil pnj is left alternating between hope and despair in some sort of pointless loop.

28/3/03

mazeltov to me!!

pinky nice juice is probably the luckiest lady on the planet these days. next fall she will begin teaching at big state u -- a truly fabulous and fun place where the students number 30,000, professors wear jeans, and where one is not often subjected to academic terms like "inter-textuality" and "(gyn)-e-cology".

27/3/03

tonight pinky nice juice learned a little something when she experienced some sort of brain fart and ordered a margarita in an ethiopian restaurant. well, at least it was served in a martini glass..

27/3/03

through the looking glass... darkly

last night pnj was the only person at a table of four -- INCLUDING thatcher -- who did not agree that Hall and Oates were a great pop band. in fact, she was somewhat ostracized, but nonetheless stood up for her heartfelt convictions.

in fact, songs like, "private eyes they're watching you" ; "because your kiss is on my list" ; and "maneater" were all held up as evidence of their extreme talent.

i am without the words.

27/3/03

why must one, year after year, be forced to endure bill walton simply to watch a nationally televised basketball game? you know, in new york we enjoy the smooth stylings of walt clyde frazier almost nightly...dont network executives WATCH tv?

17/3/03

let sleeping dogs lie

pokey doesn't have many responsibilities. guarding the house in our absence and wagging her ass in an incredibly vigorous fashion upon our return, is pretty much her only job. upon occasion, however, we do manage to catch her asleep on the job. if one tiptoes up the side porch and quietly enters the house while she is still dead asleep (no easy feat)one can enjoy the unfettered amusement of seeing pokey completely embarassed.

17/3/03

as it turns out they have decided to change the two A&P supermarkets on Martha's Vineyard (the island where we sometimes live and are currently) to Stop and Shop. I am not at all certain how I feel about this...

"Humans have inhabited this world for several hundred years."

this alarming news, dear friends, was revealed to pinky nice juice by one of her students, who opens his essay for class with this all too telling statement....

9/3/03

i am so sick of academia i could puke.

8/3/03

building a better mousetrap

gross as it is, thatcher and i have been plagued by a certain small mouse for two months now. pokey, as it turns out is completely useless. we may as well have a platapus instead of a dog for a pet. anyhow -- driven by my repeated freak outs (usually broadcast while cowering on top of a chair) thatcher (a trained engineer, that ought to tell you something) has repeatedly tried and failed to prevent the mouse which lives in the wall (i'll call it singular: mouse, but it does seem to replicate itself remarkably even after thatch carries it outside with its little neck snapped in the trap) from entering chez pnj. well -- if pinky nice juice wants something done right -- she simply must do it herself it seems. with thatcher out of town for two weeks, and spying the mouse sitting in pokey's dish having a little snack (while pokey watched in a vaguely interested manner) there was no one to hear me freak out, and thus pinky nice juice was forced to take matters into her own hands. i wont go into details (though the feburary issue of W magazine, a binder clip, and some tin foil were involved), but let's just say i haven't seen hide nor hair of that mouse in over ten days now...

6/3/03_

thatcher is out of town so it is just pinky nice juice and pokey the dog alone for two whole weeks. truly when one is shackled to a roommate for the rest of one's life (joyous though that may be) there is no higher form of existence than being wholly on one's own for weeks on end, with the run of the place. there is the danger, however, of getting truly out of hand without a witness around to ground one. pinky nice juice reached this stage thursday evening when she found herself sitting on the couch, eating cupcakes, and singing along (rather heartily i might add) to the Simon and Garfunkel Concert in Central Park video that was playing on PBS. As it turns out, I know all the words...

1/3/03

it's almost like no one is going to bother saying anything or even noticing that david robinson is retiring this year. why? because michael jordon is doing it for like the 46th time and he sells men's underpants as a sideline. blech.

1/3/03

pirate's booty?

all i know is that pokey won't even touch the stuff. and she'll eat just about anything. who names a snackfood booty anyhow?

1/3/03

pinky nice juice used to be addicted to cigarettes. yes, from around age 12 to age 24 she consumed nearly two packs of cigarettes a day. eventually that just became too much of a hassle so i quit. now pinky nice juice is addicted to cookies (this includes cupcakes and brownies). much more wholesome and less smelly -- but a royal pain in the ass of a habit to support nonetheless. in fact, sometimes it seems that cookies are even more burdensome than cigarettes as there is the inevitable variable of choice. what kind of cookie to have? where to get it from? this can become ridiculously time consuming. there is the ever present danger of getting overly fixated on a particular cookie that is only available from a bakery that is fifteen blocks away, when in the end surely a nutterbutter or an oreo from the deli on the corner should suffice. i must say that it really doesn't help that thatcher is also addicted to cookies but won't admit it. i mean rarely buying cookies, but instead constantly sponging them off of me does not mean that one is not addicted -- only that one is not pulling their (considerable) weight.

20/2/03

Pinky nice juice is currently "on hold" waiting to speak to her doctor. (i guess that means i am "multi-tasking" -- how tremendously thrilling) Fortunately her doc has decided to keep pnj entertained with the mellow and moving rhythms of "Sometimes when we touch" (The honesty's too much). Which features such pearls as "I'm just another writer trapped within my truth." Yes, this makes pnj realize that I do, in fact "want to hold you till the fear in my subsides..."

20/2/03

last night pinky nice juice heard the most disturbing rumor that the knicks were considering trading latrell sprewell for keith van horn! i am without the words to describe how absolutely horrifyingly bad that would be. the mere thought leaves me completely disgusted.

20/2/03

well - its good to be back to blogging. your friend, ms. pnj has been terribly busy of late, and has missed you all considerably.

yesterday pinky nice juice donned several layers of pants, tops, socks, mittens, and coats and headed uptown with thatcher, amy, and bella to join the anti-war rally. this is quite surprising as pnj is one to avoid cold at all costs, and customarily more of a kibbitzer than an activist. anyhoo -- it was a rather incredible spectacle. somehow disturbing reminiscent of the cape seal colony on the Skeleton Coast in Namibia where pinky nice juice along with her best girls bo-ausi steph and kate observed the aggregation of more bodies in one place then we had ever before witnessedor could hope to imagine. on the way to the seal colony were we all desparately hoping that we would be lucky enough to catch site of a seal! that turned out to be a misguided hope. in fact, the experience left me with the fear that the seal population was so large that soon they would be taking over our cities and towns. you could come home from work and find a big furry brown seal sitting in your chair, eating chips and watching Oprah. there were seals everywhere, packed together in great heaping mounds as far up and down the coast as one could see. big honking blubbering stinking moaning seals. hundreds of thousands of them. anyhoo-- the peace rally was really nothing like that -- but sharing something with the seal colony in terms of scale.

16/2/03

let me put it this way. aaaaaaggggghhhhhh! pnj needs a day off.

sexist tech is revving up for its annual faculty talent show!! basically they are looking for acts under 7 minutes -- suggested "talents" include: impersonations, poetry, singing, dancing, ventriloquism...

you know -- this presents an unprecedented opportunity for pinky nice juice to revive her "routine" from junior high and display it to the math faculty at sexist tech. are you familiar with pnj's junior high routine?

well -- first you will be shocked to discover that pinky nice juice -- graceful swan that she is -- was in remedial gym in junior high. now don't feel pity -- she was later mistakenly ranked (by virtue of being able to run very very fast for 25 yards only) into the very athletic gym cohort in 9th grade and can therefore say with utter confidence after contrasting the two experiences, that remedial gym is where she belongs.

anyhoo back in junior high there apparently had been some state budget cuts or some such thing that led to the absence of the remedial gym instructor. without a trained professional on the scene it can be very dangerous and scary to let the students in remedial gym play actual sports not to mention dodge ball -- and certainly none of us was capable of climbing those ridiculous ropes -- so instead a different curriculum was devised. each student, after donning appropriate polyester shorts and t-shirt, was given a basketball. then the instructor (no doubt on loan from the art department) would play a recording of Donna Summer's Last Dance over and over, while we each devised a "routine" to the beat, involving such moves as bouncing the ball under one's leg, bouncing the ball, walking while bouncing the ball etc. it is actually a very challenging task -- as the tempo of the song does change partway through.

5/2/03

pinky nice juice is forced to read a lot of tremendously detailed and boring crap -- this after all is her job. but fortunately amidst the tediuous also lies the truly fabulous. the following i learned yesterday from Thomas Laqueuer in his book, Making Sex: Body and Gender from the Greeks to Freud (p. 174). I am certain that you too, dear friend, will also find it of great interest.

"For much of the period under discussion here [the 19th century], the role and nature of sperm remain obscure. Spallanzani had proven in the late eighteenth century that no amount of vapor from semen would fertilize frog eggs, that Harvey's aura seminalis was insufficient to cause the female mold to produce tadpoles, and that increasing filtrations of semen eventually rendered it impotent. He showed that naked male frogs mounting a female fertilized her eggs but that frogs wearing little taffeta trousers did not; he went on to demonstrate, furthermore, that the residue on their ludicrous garb was potent."

of equal delight is the fact that pinky nice juice was able to easily locate this passage in the index where it was listed under the heading: frogs, in taffeta trousers, 174.

2/2/03

this dog was made for walking, and that's just what she'll do. one of these days my dog is going to walk all over you...

hee hee

2/2/03

ponder this

why is sleeping on the couch so sublime by day and so crappy by night?

2/2/03

so pinky nice juice has just returned from two days of very intensive job interviews at big state u. though sexist tech certainly has its charms, miss pnj would very much like to move on to big state u. where there are many kindred spirits and lots of fun things going on. therefore it was indeed a certainty that at some point during the two day process pinky nice juice was bound to do something to reveal her true freakishly awkward self. this moment came last evening. after a full day and evening of interviews i rode the bus home with two fabulous young professors from the department in question. upon reaching port authority where we split up for different subway lines, one told me it had been nice to meet me and encouraged me to call her with any future questions. pnj for her part -- blew her a kiss. yes, dear friends, i did not thank her for her time, i didn't wish her a safe journey home, i didn't tell her good night. I BLEW HER A KISS thus identifying myself as the sort social deviant that you know me to be. oops.

30/1/03

speaking of childhood neurosis -- i also went through a phase where i liked to wear a hairnet. somehow i thought it was quite glamorous (????) and used to wear it to the dinner table.

30/1/03

pinky nice juice would like to take this opportunity to share a neurotic episode from her childhood. somewhere round about age seven or eight, i went through a period of some days in which, having grown increasingly worried about my responsibilities -- you know pressing concerns like unloading the dishwasher in the morning, and riding my neighbor's hippity-hop, i decided that in order to make sure there was enough time to get it all done it made sense to get dressed the night before for the next day and sleep in my clothes, thus giving me those extra ten minutes in the morning that enable one to get a jump on her day.(after a stretch of this mom called miss pnj on this and encouraged her not to take life so seriously).

anyhow why does this come to mind now? well possibly because your friend, pinky nice juice has such a big, long day tommorrow, so packed with stressful responsibilities and presentations, that sleeping in my clothing again comes up as a reasonable time saving option. unfortunately, it does not seem that a suit, would make for nearly as sound a night's sleep as that snoopy emblazoned danskin pants and t-shirt set from back in the day.

28/1/03

it is with great sadness that pnj has learned that yet another member of her high school class -- sarah pettit has died. sarah was one of the founders of OUT magazine, a terrific writer, and a most serious bad ass. though pnj was not particularly close with sarah pettit, nor have i spoken to her since we left school two decades ago - i still think it sucks completely that she is gone. i am also reminded yet again of so many friends who are also gone -- all of whom were young and shared a similar bad ass quality...

so dear friends -- let me remind you of the obvious -- that life is indeed short and unpredictable. try to take as big a bite as you can.

24/1/03

pinky nice juice is an early bird. in fact, i am often up long before dawn, hard at work, savoring a rich mug of freshly brewed coffee. that is except today. no this morning, with the weather substantially below zero -- in fact with all sorts of freakish warnings in the local media about the dangers of the cold (the sort of thing where folks from maine delight in watching us idiotic city dwellers panicking over nothing) pnj woke at 5:30 am from a restless and anxiety filled sleep in which she continually replayed the overwhelmingly long and scary list of things she must get done. well no time like the present, so miss pinky nice juice got out of bed, made coffee and opened the refrigerator to discover that there was NO MILK! Thatcher, my erstwhile husband and roommate it seems had DRANK all the milk last night.

let's take a poll. who out there DRINKS milk by the glass?? (those of you underage are disqualified).

no milk is for coffee, and should be treated as such, especially when the lack of it means that some of us must get dressed, leave the house in the pitch dark, and walk several frozen blocks to the lone convenience store that is open at such an hour.

anyone who dares insinuate that this is evidence of why pnj should forgo coffee altogether can come over to brooklyn and take it up with me in person.

23/1/03

pokey has a boyfriend and his name is frank.

22/1/03

today classes begin again for your friend pnj. what will the semester hold for me and my students at sexist tech? no doubt a lot of good times, warm smiles, and heart felt cheer, as we all bask in the golden glow of knowledge.

22/1/03

friends and sandwiches

today pinky nice juice had to hop in a cab as the subway conductor announced that he would be bypassing my connecting station "due to ongoing police activity." apparently someone forgot to tell the police who were nowhere in evidence, and the people waiting on the platform irritated that our slow moving train failed to stop and open its doors -- but i digress...

anyhow pnj hopped in a taxi wearing her giant black hairy hat (it is quite cold after all). the cabbie enquired as to whether pinkynicejuice had ever been to siberia. when i replied in the negative, he informed me that he had spent seven years there, and that hats like mine were all the rage there. in fact, this weather in new york was like spring to him -- we new yorkers are just a bunch of pussies to him -- now siberia, that was cold. pnj was gratified to establish that this time was spent as a professional musician playing in a bar there and not in some gulag. anyhow it turns out that this guy only misses two things from his homeland: his friends, and the sandwiches. apparently there you can get an amazing butter and caviar sandwich, and there is nothing else that can really compare.

though we were only on a thirty block ride, pinkynicejuice and her cab driver were also able to establish that they share the same ancestral home of Minsk, and that one can make a great deal of money carrying cans of caviar back home to nyc after visiting one's friends in Moscow. and also that his mother and grandmother had baked matzoh in the dead of night each year at passover hiding from the secret police, while my family bought theirs at stop and shop.

16/1/03

together at last!

pinky nice juice just discovered the joy of combining two of her favorite past times! eating peanut m&ms and shouting at the pundits on CNN.

13/01/03

Shania Twain or Faith Hill?

it is with great trepidation that pinkynicejuice, begins her day. i woke this morning with some horrifying female western (i wont denigrate the realm of country which i deeply admire with this taint) song about "passionate kisses" running an endless loop in my head. it is like being trapped in a sartre-esque shopping mall from which there is no exit. hopefully pnj's forthcoming trip to the doctor will not produce similar sensations of irritation and futility -- though pinkynicejuice fears that nothing good can come from a day that begins with shania (or faith)...

9/1/03

panda pushcarts

what if new york had a sizeable panda bear population? in fact, what if all the pushcart vendors were panda bears wearing little change aprons. they could just sit there and eat bamboo and do somersaults and then when people came by give em a dog with mustard and onions, or a good humor bar. i bet if that happened that new york would be famous for panda pushcarts and it would be featured in all the travel magazines. i think it would really make things much more fun, and give the city an adorable quality that it currently lacks.

in fact, speaking of pandas -- i saw a photograph in a magazine the other day (was it the NYTimes mag??) of a researcher who works at a panda research station in china. i guess there is a problem with low fertility among pandas -- especially those in captivity, and so this fancy chinese scientist was showing the caged panda a video of pandas having sex -- panda porn if you will. to show him how it's done. does anyone besides pinky nice juice think that is a bit bizarre?

7/1/03

tommorrow is a big day for your friend, pnj. tommorrow is the day that i leave behind all the frightening, disorganized, juvenile mess of my lifestyle and become one of the professional, efficient, pleasant people who doesn't have to wake up at 3 am worrying about where i put that paper my student gave me to read. tommorrow -- a PROFESSIONAL lady -- my utterly fabulous sister-in-law is going to come and create order out of the chaos of my paper-based life.

7/1/03

pinky nice juice is terribly disappointed in whoever recently received an original, hand knit, ***more than donuts*** scarf for the holidays and somehow failed to grasp the serious value of such a gift. the hours of work and thought, the creativity -- and for you the lucky recipient -- the utter fabulousness of knowing that you are the only one in all of new york sporting such a creation... get it together girl. get a grip.

7/1/03

yesterday pinkynicejuice wore her suit. this is never a good sign. really the best times in life are not spent while wearing a suit. (this of course is one of the fatal flaws (and dangerous warning signs) of weddings and bar mitzvahs and the like). pinky nice juice used to think it might be fun -- like being in a play or something, but actually it is more like being a poser for the day. i would note, however, that the jacket with pockets is extremely handy.

4/1/03

the diamond ring thing

today i went to buy wooly tights at the snotty rich chick's store in the hood --convenient -- and pinky nice juice is on her way to Chicago later this week and is sure to need all things wooly. there was a rather elaborate ritual going on in the middle of the store between the forty something lady with the ultra short chic haircut who owns the place and one of the regulars who, having gotten engaged last night, was now sporting half the total annual diamond export tonnage from Botswana (or more likely Congo)on her ring finger. gross.

note: while pinky nice juice is deeply respectful of the importance of the diamond economy to both Botswana and Nambia, she dislikes stupid, shallow, shrieking women. buy the diamond -- and shut up about it already.

31/12/02

trade offs

its lots of fun to give pokey a rawhide bone. she will take it and "bury" it all over the apartment. You will find it under your cushion on the couch in the morning, lying on your pillow at night, beneath your desk the next day, on her dog bed that afternoon. and if you pick it up and move it somewhere -- say OFF your pillow and onto her bed, she will get really annoyed and look at you with the kind of extreme suspicion that makes you suddenly aware of and mildly nervous about the bizarre nature of interspecial (or is it multispecial?) living. and then one day, seemingly at random she will begin to chew, and will lay there and dismember the thing until after several hours it is gone. but then the next day -- well then you feel a little guilty, because pokey wakes up constipated...

mitten miracles

a few weeks back pinkynicejuice celebrated the anniversary of her birth in grand style with the purchase of a pair of overpriced mittens with felt dog faces hand appliqued upon them (and a big shout out to mom who subsidised this extravagance with a generous birthday check). they really are the most fabulous mittens - and somewhat the envy of certain small children i know. anyhow last thursday, somehow i managed to lose one of them while walking pokey. this of course, sunk pinky nice juice into deep despair, reminding her (yet again) that she is simply too irresponsible to deserve something as truly special as a pair of dog mittens... but wait. this afternoon as pnj rounded the corner of her very own block, she spotted something lying there in the middle of the sidewalk -- smiling up at her. oh my goodness, my dog mitten was apparently trying to make its way home and somehow we met up only a half a block from the house (a half a block pnj had traversed at least a dozen times since that mitten went missing). somehow this reminds me of that book where the dog and cat walk hundreds of miles to get home and rejoin their family. a mitten miracle.

the man with the plastic hair

so pinky nice juice just had opportunity to watch trent lott's apology speech in its entirety. i believe i can sum it up quite easily for those of you who did not catch it. it went something like this --- it is ok that i, trent lott, am a mean spirited racist f-cker because i am a devout christian. pinky nice juice hopes very much that they send his plastic haired self packing. can you say newt gingrich??

13/12/02

on a day when the cardinal is forced out by the congregants and two guys punch moby in the face, pinky nice juice is proud to announce that she is from boston

13/12/02

dog noses they're long and their wet

dog noses they belong to your pet

dog noses digging in the snow

dog noses where did that dog pee go?

11/12/02

so it turns out that my plagarizer has decided to dazzle the dean and myself with several interrelated and truly fabulous aspects of his situation, which you will see below clarify the plagarism matter entirely. as it turns out, he was identified as a gifted child at the age of five. (and as with so many gifted children) this it seems is a tragically burdensome responsibility. in fact, he reads books and the internet and "cliff notes" and retains entire paragraphs of information, worded exactly as in the original. this, it turns out is terribly confusing as occasionally he forgets which ideas are his own and which he read somewhere and where. also, he gave the paper to his sister to "fancy up" while he did her chemistry homework, because she is really stupid and doesn't know anything except about fashion and shopping, and so she added four pages of plagarzied text into the paper, which he then inadvertantly and in a rush decided to add footenotes to, citing pinky nice juice's in class lectures as the source of the information, but never suspecting for a moment that the four pages his sister added were plagarized -- though in retrospect this was foolish of him, because his sister is too stupid to write anything except about fashion and shopping. you will not be surprised to hear that currently, he is not speaking to his sister.

10/12/02

well it's incredibly cold today -- forcing pinky nice juice to put on her pants over her flannel pajamas in order to brave the outdoors for pokey's morning ablutions. while initially this fashion inovation required a bit of struggle, after settling in it now turns out to be insanely comfortable and gives one something of a secret identity (guess what -- i am still wearing my pajamas...) i just might proceed to work this way...

this also reminds me of a rather bizarre event from second grade in which joey kelleher (who lived only three doors down from school) arrived one day looking a little odd. i distincly remember that his fly was in the back and the back pockets of his green toughskins with white stitching were in the front. joey it seems, had somehow managed to put his pants on backwards. about twenty minutes or so later, joey's mother appeared out of nowhere and turned his pants around.

4/12/02

stuffing

thatcher's mother makes the world's best stuffing. period. so if you think your stuffing rules -- forget it. i don't care if it has oysters or some other gross and inappropriate item that is oh so faux fancy. it could at best be a pale imitation. pinky nice juice knows -- she has had the world's best, and tommorrow she will have it again!!!!!!!!!!! ha!

27/11/02

the pathological, habitual, never-ending plagarizer

ah -- well, he is at it again. remember my charming student from a previous blog who saw fit to copy large sections of his paper wholesale from the web earlier in the semester. the same student who received an F on that paper and a warning that a repeat performance would result in failure of the class and a trip to the Dean's office? the same student who then asked if he could rewrite his F paper for a higher grade? the same student who yesterday asked me to let him into my already full class for next semester because he is really interested in the material. well somehow -- despite all of this mr. cheater (who i learn is a construction engineering major -- not a management major)has persisted in testing pinkynicejuice. this time of course with a clever twist. mr. cheater has again cut and pasted large sections (paragraphs) of text from the web, and then he has cleverly cited prof.p.n.juice and her lecture on the subject as the source of the material. no matter that the ideas attributed to me contain facts of which i was entirely unaware. if one is to steal, probably best not to pretend that one's stolen goods were actually borrowed from the police. surely you, blog reader that you are, realize that this is utter folly, some narcissistic, bizarre, pathological obsession with cheating and risk. who does this guy think he is? ted kennedy? no he is not -- and so pinkynicejuice will now have to turn him into the dean at sexist tech...this promises to be highly instructive...more to follow

26/11/02

pinkynicejuice confesses to the annoying habit of reading over the shoulder of the person sitting next to her. while this is indeed annoying, i do at times find it irresistable, and further, i find that one can learn many interesting things in this manner. today on the subway i was seated next to a woman in her late forties who was writing a To Do List. below are the top three entries on the list (pinkynicejuice cannot remember the entire list which went up to line 28 -- clearly this woman had many tasks to accomplish -- but you will get the gist of the myriad pressing things left undone by the following)

1. work hard

2. get rectal temp

3. replace glass

(pnj assumes the abbreviation in item 2 denotes temperature -- and not temporary help)

26/11/02

thatcher tells me that there is a big debate in the computer game programmer community about the need to develop a "specialized language" for game design so that computer games can be taken seriously as an art form...pinkynicejuice thinks this is a splendid idea -- yes the language of computer game programming is surely far too accessible to the masses. in fact i, like many others no doubt, often find myself sitting down and just writing a post to some computer game developer listserv on the finer points of textture mapping...and it is precisely because of that accessibility that i simply cannot take computer games seriously as an art form... (well except ms packman)

23/11/02

pokeythedog is going back on monday for a SECOND interview at the local doggie day care facility. as you can imagine we are all a bit nervous...

23/11/02

yesterday pinkynicejuice went to a fancy reception for a visiting scholar. free food, free libation, free edification, and apparently for a certain older ukranian gentleman in my department -- free chance to try and feel up the younger women professors! as you might imagine -- pinkynicejuice was terribly flattered to be the object of such affections. in fact, pinkynicejuice was almost forced to brawl with one of her fellow women co-workers over who exactly would be literally pinned up against the wall by said closetalking, closetouching, individual -- as he regaled me with tales of his horseback riding heroics as a young lad during world war II. as it turns out --sarcasm does not appear an adequate defense in such situations. i fear that pinkynicejuice must soon begin packing pepper spray at academic events...

19/11/02

a lesson in strategy from the new york knicks-

it matters not whether you lead in the third quarter. nor does it matter if you lead for most of the game. what really counts is that you blow it at the end and play like a bunch of overpaid, tired, desperate losers in the fourth quarter so that you can make sure and seal the loss each and every time.

in order to accomplish this:

trade a dynamic point guard (chris childs) and keep the one who tries to make the impossible dream shot rather than setting up the team one out of two times he gets the ball.

get a great center. make sure he is injured most of the time. trade him for a great center who is injured most of the time.

make a public stink about the only person on the team who consistently plays hard in each and every game. who doesn't talk trash about other players or the coach. try to alienate him as much as possible by separating him from the team.

pay a ridiculous amount of money to some pansy-ass pretty boy shooting guard who is afraid to ever get in the paint.

do all of this as soon as pinkynicejuice moves from boston to new york...

17/11/02

the committee meeting

well the aforementioned amniotic bubble (see blog below) burst rather abruptly upon my return to my university -- which i will call -- Sexist Tech for short. pinkynicejuice was recently nominated to the committee on women. (it has some acronym whose exact meaning i have forgotten). of course, i had no knowledge of my responsibilities to begin work with the committee, as Sexist Tech doesn't believe in informing people of their responsibilities or rewards, nor does it believe in collegiality -- if things get too social the engineers and math types begin to feel powerfully uncomfortable. instead one is more likely to receive an email about a previous meeting one has missed, and requesting that you begin attending these meetings at once. though working on academic committees generally sucks -- pinky nice juice breathed a deep sigh of relief to find that she was a recalcitrant member of the women's committee. after all, one must be on many committees, and at least if we were all women in the room that left less space for the other potential candidates, including the often ascot wearing (no i am not kidding -- ascot wearing), greasy lecherous, patronizing, innuendo wielding, dismissive, or other pathological elements that rule the roost at Sexist Tech.

one of our goals was to improve the child care arrangement at the school -- which is bad beyond belief. pinky nice juice could get behind that -- finally something good was in the works at Sexist Tech. well someone made the suggestion that we do an email survey to evaluate the demand and the priorities for these services among students and faculty. as it turns out this is not possible. in fact, in order to do such a survey we will need to have it undergo a review by the human subjects review board of Sexist Tech, to make sure that receiving an email questionnaire for which you are not compelled to respond, about whether you want to use day care and how much you can afford to pay for it, doesn't endanger email recipients in any way, nor does it infringe on their rights and dignity as people with email accounts. as it turns out, the women's committee has been down this road before. the review board does not like the idea of such a survey. thank goodness someone is looking out for the dignity and rights of people who dont want to receive an email from their employer/school asking their opinions on child care.

things brightened up a bit -- when we turned to the matter of "fundraising". yes it appears that in order to represent women's interests at Sexist Tech one must have a bake sale. as it turns out this year it will actually be a "treasure hunt" -- but you get the point.

11/11/02

pinkynicejuice just returned from an academic conference. you know, upon occasion it is great fun to just fly your geek flag with ultimate freedom, and to be suspended in some bizarre amniotic bubble in which one can intermingle with fellow nerds and observe the incredible social spectacle of the tribal meeting. lumpers, splitters, leaders, followers, kin, agemates, elders, and strangers, mavericks, deviants, big thinkers,small-minded bores, meticulous artisans,posers, and the real thing all mingling together and reacting to each other and avoiding one another and configuring ourselves into some semblance of order. a beautiful mess.

10/11/02

last night pinkynicejuice and her man attended a seriously posh housewarming party of an old college friend in a loft in soho. not only was the living room larger than our entire apartment, it was full of fancy people from the investment banking industry. there were some incredible outfits on display -- including a woman who was wearing seriously expensive black pants and a brown fur and leather vest as a shirt -- she looked like an incredibly wealthy version of captain caveman. and another chick in a thousand dollar butt-thong prominently displayed on her backside, her pants being so low that we essentially had little choice but to look her lace flossed ass straight in the eye (and a big menudo style shout out to my girlfriend audrey with whom I was enjoying watching smarmy, wealthy, middle-aged banker men line up to not so subtly ogle the thong) pinkynicejuice -- not having fully grasped the formality of the event, despite having received an engraved invitation, rolled up in jeans and a woodstock (the little yellow bird who was snoopy's buddy) sweatshirt. oops.

3/11/02

those of you who know me we will surprised and disappointed to hear that i will NOT be running in the marathon this weekend. so don't even bother looking for me in the lead pack.

1/11/02

can anyone explain the ridiculous logic behind the f-ing V train? pinky nice juice thinks not. yet every wednesday evening around 9:30 pm at the end of a fifteen hour day, pinky nice juice and the other suckers on the west 4th street F train platform stand patiently, waiting for the pokey little F train to carry us home. everyone is tired and quiet, until we hear the train coming. yes, here it is, at long last we are going home -- we are going to eat our dinner and pet our dogs!! -- that is until it rounds the corner and we all realize at once that we've been screwed again, and of course we are all a bit embarassed to have fallen for it yet again -- all at once a rather loud chorus of voices can be heard from across the cultural and age based spectrum of brooklynites on the platform-- as we all exclaim/mutter simultaneously -- "Fucking V train". this week someone spit at it.

1/11/02

Jam Master Jay... what can I say? Why do people suck so bad?

31/10/02

today pokey and i saw a most excellent thing. a parked truck from "Nick's Royal Flush Plumbing and Healting". well the pun is of course incredible and pinky nice juice was gratified to see both meanings displayed -- on one side of the truck was a nice painting of a monkey wrench holding a royal flush (diamonds)of playing cards. on the other side was a fabulous painting of some aging monarch, complete with golden crown, pants down sitting on the can.

23/10/02

two nights ago as i rode the half empty train home some peculiar things happened. first we stopped midway up the platform of a station. then the conductor got out (pinky nice juice was in the very first car) opened the front door of the train -- yes, it turns out they have front doors, jumped down onto the track and moved something. then she climbed back in, closed the door and pulled the rest of the way into the station. that's not all. it was like the lion the witch and the wardrobe or something. when she opened that door on the nose of the train, a door which had always been there, though no one ever thought to look, it was as if we entered into a magic world that looked quite similar to the everyday world, and yet shockingly different. the middle eastern men next to me, one of whom was in coveralls coming from work and the other in a leather jacket and acid wash pants, started sharing a small tub of handcream. pinky nice juice swears that they were total strangers up to this point. one just started putting on handcream and then he offered it to the man next to him and he took it and used it. and then afterwards he was gently sniffing his own hand. the seventy year old white haired man across from me, opened up a bag and started offering sandwiches to the supremely hot puerto rican girl and equally hot auto mechanic guy who were sitting to his right. they took them and started to eat them. i mean we were only stopped for a few minutes max and everybody starts acting like we live in mayberry?

18/10/02

here are the specials on offer at Donut House on Court Street -- conveniently located next to the Off Track Betting.

corned beef and cabbage

corned beef soup

corned beef sandwich

corned beef platter

Ah, Donut House -- apparently not just for donuts anymore.

17/10/02

yesterday on cnn with "wolf" blitzer (can this possibly be his name -- or did they assign it to him in hopes it would make him seem taller on camera?) i saw a poll. viewers were asked to call in and "vote" -- do you think the sniper is working alone -- or with a partner? that seems like a good idea -- the news should be more "interactive". i am not going to sit on my ass anymore and watch this sniper wreak havoc on the d.c. area -- i am going to get involved and vote. maybe a little democracy can solve the case.... wtf????

15/10/02

yesterday i graded papers. of course there was the inevitable student who despite all warnings on the syllabus and in class to the contrary persists in thinking that pinkynicejuice is too dense to discern the subtle differences between a paper written by a professional historian and one written by some bozo management major in his sophmore year of college. i know, it is a tad insulting. these students inevitably also think that pinkynicejuice and her kind haven't yet heard of the world wide web and don't know how to search it... inter-what? internut? oh -- interNET. c'mon. so i obligingly pointed out the paper's source and duly doled out an F and a little advice about the future. some thieves do in fact feel a twang of remorse or shame at this juncture, but not this one, who approached me after class to ask if he couldn't now rewrite the assignment for a better grade. is that what "management" is all about?

14/10/02

i have been so busy this week that there hasn't been much time for blogging. tuesday i was in a meeting with colleagues to discuss several new themes in the social sciences -- very academicky kind of thing with many concepts and the names of several european philosophers being bandied about. well of course i got a little overly enthusiastic and used the global market in carved dildos (for the aids prevention industry -- a fact i may have neglected to mention) as my example. (pinkynicejuice was in the room when people put two and two together and discovered such a market exists and so still feels kind of connected to the whole thing as you can imagine.). as it turns out, news of this emerging market is actually a conversation stopper.

10/10/02

do you ever think when you are sitting on the phone working your way through a maddening cycle of recorded messages and menus of options that lead to other recordings -- do you ever think that maybe this is a sign of the end of american civilization -- that we americans driven by the bottom line and strange notions of "efficiency" have so radically depersonalized our world that it may just collapse in on itself at any moment? we may just all start shoving old ladies to the ground to get to the front of the line, brawling over discount underpants, or start rubbing up against each other on the subway in some sort of quest for human contact, is this somehow connected to jerry springer? well pinkynicejuice has a news flash for you. it's not just america, or even "the west". we are not even the best at this particular form of technological passive aggression. i just spent a considerable amount of time navigating the phone menu at the chinese consulate of san franscisco. the best piece of guidance i got was at the end of a long tree of options i had traversed with my touch tone key pad -- a lovely recorded woman told me to visit the consultate web site. i did. the consulate web site told me in no uncertain terms never to call and bother the people at the consulate with my query. o.k. then.

7/10/02

tonight for dinner i am going to make an egg-salad sandwich on multi-grain bread with watercress, tomato, and bacon. i am so psyched about it i think i am going to plotz.

6/10/02

last night, after working all day and into the evening, i decided i needed to get a life and head out. well, being an insane geek these days, and having a hard time remembering what it is i like to do aside from work (could the knicks please start already?? -- and kurt thomas -- wtf????) i headed out for st. mark's bookstore in the east village, which my friends nick and jen turned me on to when they were visiting last spring. it is an amazing bookstore and i highly recommend it, especially if you are into social theory. anyhow, i have this wonderful grant right now where i get to buy 2k worth of books, which is a lot of books, and it kind of turns shopping into this ** the price is right ** phenomenon. (which reminds me that i learned last week on E entertainment television that bob barker, that sly silver fox with the amazingly slender microphone, is a massive dick. even though he is into spaying cats and all, i really wouldn't trust him. he has really screwed over some of "barker's beauties" as he likes to refer to the model's on the show. there are a gazillion law suits going on with it all even as we speak). Well, it was a very good time, and I managed finally to find a book that my friend Laura recommended called, The No.1 Ladies Detective Agency, which is about a lady-detective in Botswana, and is supposed to be amazing. (having read the first fifteen pages on the subway home, I can say that I have very high hopes). there were a lot of people in the bookstore, which made me feel better about being such a saturday night bookshopping loser, including a supremely glamorous and hip couple that was reading this illustrated history of pornography. no one seemed to be reading either of the two books about shit that were out on display. i wonder if people only order those by mail? then again that could get you on some strange mailing lists....

that is all. i have no point, but it's my blog and i don't have to.

6/10/02

kristen is right -- these dogless days are indeed desparate.

3/10/02

to whoever called my machine and left a message in setswana -- you didn't leave your name or number. is it you, morgan freeman?

3/10/02

today was only the second time that Jo (a psuedonym, it actually stands for jerk off) decided to attend class. beforehand he showed up at my office wearing headphones and a kind of dazed look and asked me -- where the class met (we are a third of the way into the semester)and so how much of the book should we read? (we don't have a book -- only a series of articles) i refamilarized Jo with the syllabus and the fact that he was over 400 pages behind in the reading, reminding him that in fact, he had a paper due today. he didn't seem concerned. i also told him the location of the class. this turned out to be a mistake. he found it alright, headphones and sunglasses on, music blaring, and sat at the back of the room. then for the next two hours he proceeded to be the biggest dick on the planet. at one point he stepped out in the middle of class --only to return 10 minutes later can of soda in hand and i do believe baked to the b'jeezus. by the end of class when all 30 of us were forced to listen to jerk off's -- i mean Jo's -- creative diatribe on why he hates getting bitten by mosquitos, pinkynicejuice was forced to engage Jo in a little battle of the wits -- yes pinkynicejuice can be far more sarcastic than even the most obnoxious of 20 year olds -- and as with the Beave's mother in that scene in Airplane -- in an emergency -- i can "speak jive". clearly this is penance for some long forgotten misdeed i committed back in my youth. make it stop.

3/10/02

today in class i taught my students all about the "fecal-oral route". it's actually quite important in public health.

30/9/02

there are a lot of very very cool dogs in brooklyn -- i mean a lot. bristly ones, and short ones, and some that ride around in the pocketbooks of super models, and wolfhounds, and fluffily ones, and tripod ones, and bad-ass ones, and even dogs that wear track suits and some are really mean and some are really nice and some are really glamorous, and they are ALL so incredibly fabulous.

brooklyn dog haiku:

what happened to Ed?
is that a muzzle?
did he bite somebody? oops

poo on the sidewalk
don't you look at me that way
pokey don't play that

lightening fast frank
snags pizza slice from gutter
yummy yummy yum

27/9/02

yesterday i went to the chinese consulate to "authenticate" our adoption papers --that's right -- pinkynicejuice is going to be a mommy. don't get too excited, it's still more than a year away.... anyhow it was a good walk over there, since you get to walk up 42nd street past the stables where they keep the police horses, to the very edge of manhattan -- 12th avenue -- from where you can see the boats and the water and it all suddenly seems different. on the way back i took a stroll through hell's kitchen and times square, had an awesome cuban sandwich and slice of coconut cake and then hopped on the train for home. i absolutely love new york.

27/9/02

attention network executives -- bring back **battle of the network stars** -- complete with tug-o-war, obstacle course, and simon says competition ---- let's see the cast of "7th heaven" take on "the hughley's"

27/9/02

do you have cable tv? if so then do yourself a favor, check out an E entertainment channel interview by "jules asner". they actually found someone so vapid that the celebrities seem really smart. in fact, when you watch an E entertainment channel interview by jules asner, you begin to feel like you are really in there with the star, you and gwynneth paltrow might actually have some kind of connection, you two have a little secret. now you might otherwise feel pretty snobbily towards someone like gwynneth paltrow -- why on earth would you want to hang out with her? but as you watch the interview you begin to think it actually might be kind of fun, you know what you would talk about --you both want to know --what's the deal with "jules"?

26/9/24

here are some people i miss:

r.i.p.

matthew cohn sheilah pule norah folkenflick

25/9/02

you might give some thought to the plan the cdc has come out with in the event of a smallpox outbreak/bioterrorism. Fortyeight pages of guidelines for the states to work out. Like the states have any money, or any public health capacity -- we privatized all that long ago. Yeah, the state of Louisiana is suddenly going to be able to vaccinate millions of people in ten days? I'm not saying that we are going to have a smallpox outbreak, but i am saying that this is kind of lame.

25/9/02

thanks to everyone who wrote me with the correct spelling for Sisqo.

24/9/02

the faculty meeting:

have you ever been to one? it would be pretty hysterical and all if it weren't really happening and this wasn't really how things got done.

sometimes i work in botswana -- a totally fabulous place -- and a big shout out to bo-ausi tota!! (all my ladies back in bots and you too steph). anyhow there i often attend bureaucratic meetings where people are very concerned with who speaks in what order and who gets a bowl of salty crax in front of them and who doesn't (have you had salty crax? well they are this very tasty cracker named after a sailor's ass that are quite popular there). and i often would sit at a meeting and think to myself you know, these guys with all their etiquette and rules and precedents and shit, its all just bogging them down. thank god i am from america, where we are all just a bunch of regular joes and shit it really going on (i know, but unfortunately these are the kind of self-congratulatory and misguided thoughts that american me sometimes has when i am far from home and feeling self indulgent, and my tswana friends put up with it because they are polite and good with children and because they realize that this kind of arrogance is usuall followed by a good bout of cultural self loathing). Well pride goeth before a fall and all that. If only we could have our meetings Tswana style, with salty crax and lemon creams and simba chips and fabulous hairdos and ululating where appropriate and perhaps a musical interlude...

apparently there's this thing called Robert's Rules of Order -- and if you weren't in "the model UN" back in high school or like me were back in bed with a bong hit and a drake's crumb cake the day they went over that one, well then you are about to be outmanouevered by some dandruffy old fart with food on his tie. the faculty meeting: where the small-minded prevail.

a very brief excerpt from the very long faculty meeting in which three faculty members put their respective phd's to good use in discussing a catalogue blurb (distortions of memory possible -- but not likely -- you really can't make this shit up)

"Uh no, I object to the use of the word 'recommended', it is all wrong, it should certainly be replaced with 'encouraged'."

"Well 'encouraged' is so weak, we may as well take the line out altogether."

"What do you mean get rid of 'recommended'? We discussed this at the last meeting -- its right here in the minutes. We certainly need to keep the word 'recommended', I mean how can we possibly be educating our students properly if we are only 'encouraging' and not 'recommending'." .....

what would happen right now if i stood up and started break dancing?

23/9/02

much to my surprise mrs. li from li's dry cleaners called me on the phone the other day. she's really nice, and later when i went in there, she told me that i was a good girl. so i have decided to use this blog to do a little advertising for mrs. li to reward her for being such a good judge of character. if you live in carroll gardens then go see mrs. li at li's dry cleaners on the corner of sacket and henry for all your laundering and tailoring needs.

21/9/02

today eliot and k-dunk moved to my neighborhood. yippee -- neighbors.

21/9/02

I've had a really long day. If you know me you will be shocked to hear that it is 10:45 pm and i am still awake. Well, I just got home from work and am currently relaxing with a mint-chocolate chip "tofutti cutie". Its like an icecream sandwich with a hint of a toothpaste quality, but in a good way -- and it is, in fact, adorable -- a real "cutie". Anyhow, I miss my dog. So here is a little song I like to sing to her -- this one's for you -- Poke....

(to a tune I know)

Dog noses,they're really really long
Dog noses, the subject of this song
Dog noses they like to sniff around
Dog noses they're all over this town

sniff sniff sniff
sniff sniff sniff
sniff sniff sniff sniff sniff
(repeat)

Dog noses they love to sniff the grass
Dog noses, they prefer to sniff dog ass
Dog noses, sticking in the air
Dog noses, love them if you dare

18/9/02

Thoughts while riding the A Train....

I'm not Sisqo, I don't want to see your thong.

17/9/02

Today in class I said "pissing in the streets". My students found this quite tittilating.

16/9/02

sometimes i wish i was pokeythedog. then when someone was mean to me i could pee on their carpet, or lie on the couch, chew on my bone for hours, and pretend it was their head.

15/9/02

How often do you clean your toaster oven? Maybe you never clean it, just let it all build up until the thing breaks....That was my plan, but for some reason just now three years into the project, I got the brilliant idea to really clean it. (these are the flashes of brilliance that come from working at home) I don't recommend it.

13/9/02

Note: I have decided to use the European date system (day,month,year) for my blogs -- since I think it really adds some class.

hazel displaying one of the many peanutty delights of her native land.

and this, folks, pnj so deeply hopes, is the last time that pnj will feel the urge to display photos of her child on her otherwise terribly cynical and at times meanspirited website. clearly this is no place for children.

hazel's first jewmas (and a big shout out to my equally confused cousin paul who led me to the jewmas website -- links provided on pnj's homepage)

as you can see she was a bit confused by the whole jewish christmas thing - but notice how well pokey has caught on to the multiple identity backbends and now enjoys mugging for a jewmas family photo-- so there is hope.

your close friend and ally, pinky nice juice, has been up since 3.30 this am, when i was awoken by the shockingly loud thud of thatcher falling out of bed. oops. pokey, for her part, slept through the whole affair.

how have i used these three precious hours of time, up alone at night? (and yes, alone really, despite my location here in the epicenter of the naked city, because although nyc is purportedly the city that never sleeps, pnj thinks that is a misnomer - or perhaps that was nyc before rudy giuliani turned it into a giant f-ing shopping mall, is pnj the only one out there who enjoys a little seediness??? - anyhow nowadays they all go to sleep eventually. if you want to stay up all night, better that you head to spain, i think). how have i spent this time? (i ask again). sewing the zipper into that cute little hooded sweater i made? reading the book i am supposed to review (said review already being a month late)? watching inspector morse on television? NO! pnj has been eating cookies, drinking coffee, and reflecting on the horrifying phenomenon of recent times that we call "Celebrity Chefs!"

celebrity chefs is a ridiculous and irritating concept. like when you buy that "wolfgang puck" frozen pizza he actually made it or even made the recipe? and like we care what your name is and like we think it matters what you look like (the iron chefs, of course, go by cuisine and are legitimate celebrities because they actually compete with one another-- and of course, pnj is willing to make the occasional exception for someone with a good show on pbs -- like lydia bastianich, and that jamie oliver is cute -- but the lisping british accent bucgs the crap out of me, and he has a tad too much energy, i think.) the worst of course is todd english (though that idiot emiril is enough to make pnj turn off the tv -- and few things have the power to do that). what a complete putz. (have you ever noticed that he looks exactly like that obnoxious "presidential historian" michael beschloss? the most boring man on the planet, and wearing the same heavy layer of makeup as well, pnj might add).

basically (and pnj bases this on her many years experience as a waitress) celebrity chefs is a way for totally over-testosterone temper-tantrum prone insecure macho big boys who are going through mid-life crises and work in kitchens to get some. kind of like how regular celebrities is a way for totally over-testosterone temper-tantrum prone insecure drama club types who work "in film" and are going through mid-life crises (like "sly" stallone) to get some. and what about the ladies? well what about the ladies? what on earth is up with that weird british chick in the tight sweater surrounded by soft lighting, nigella? the one who takes little teeny bites out of her food in all her photos and on her show? is that really the feminine version of NIGEL? nigella? it sounds like barbarella.

anyhow pnj ain't buying it.

30/12/03

ok so pnj is completely obsessed with the lord of the rings -- having now seen the fellowship of the ring on video. my favorite part is how thousands of years pass and its always super medieval, oh and the leader of the dwarves who has a heavy scottish accent and a read beard that he wears in braids. and the hobbits are really mini and fun. and yet there is a part of me that worries a bit -- what if when i watch the next movie (the two towers) pnj gets even farther into it. i mean how does someone become super goth and into fantasy and all that? surely it starts small, maybe with an innocent little copy of the hobbit, a gift from your aunt on your twelth birthday or something, then before you know it pnj is out there blogging in elvish and redecorating her apartment in a unicorn motif. then again unicorns never hurt anyone. unlike some evil wizards we know...

hazel and paris

ok -- so pnj is now back from a long hiatus. indeed she has travelled all the way to asia and back. she has sampled the korean twinkie (called the "creamy"), and also had the chinese version of pringles (called "rounds" and available in "excitable baby flavor"). she has been serenaded by a young man from hunan singing john denver's "country roads" over the microphone on the bus. she has viewed the larger than life amazingly photographic embroidery of chairman mao. and she has gotten hazel -- who turns out to be a most fabulous and utterly adorable person. at first pnj was concerned that hazel might be mentally impaired, retarded if you will. not that pnj would love her any less, as i said already she is beyond fabulous and clearly has a lot to offer as a person-- just that this is the sort of thing that a parent should be aware of --but then thatcher assured me that this she is actually quite an ordinary baby, its just that babies are in fact, total dumbasses. adorable, lovable, indeed waited on hand and foot,and continually feted with gifts, subject to all manner of photographic insult -- both invited and not, a tad whiny at times, but easily distracted from their cries by any opportunity to flirt with themselves in the mirror or to inspect their own tiny little incredibly soft feet --, clothed in an overpriced array of at times comical attire, including disposable underpants, and without the slightest inkling of how the world works. in short babies are like paris hilton.

29/12/03

pnj wishes some hobbits would come visit. i would definitely feed them some bacon.

ok here's an important question -- why does the yarn company -- the knitting store on broadway in the upper west side suck so bad? though there are a few really nice women who work there (and some super cute yarn)-- the rest of them pretty much define the word bitssy (that's a combination of bitchy and stressy). its like someone opened a big ol' can of pms in there. now pnj doesn't say this lightly, but she has now been to said store on three separate outings, each spaced a few months apart and it is pretty much the same vibe everytime (well unless pnj goes with louise -- because louise is so truly fabulous and something of a neighborhood rock star type in her own right, so they kind of warm up when they see her). not only are they completely freaking out all the time (and who knows why? i mean its a KNITTING STORE, f-ing relax) but they also treat you like you must be a complete idiot, who couldn't possibly know how to knit -- and yet there you are in a knitting store -- so it would seem obvious that you do in fact know how to knit and even if you didn't perhaps you might not like being talked to in such a patronizing and smarmy manner when you are about to spend close to a hundred bucks for something off a sheep. anyhow today was pnj's last straw -- from now on she will be traveling downtown for all of her knitting supply needs...

truly fabulous -- but little known facts about thatch (if you already knew 6 of the 9 facts below then you are clearly a good friend of thatch, 7 or higher and you are in the thatch posse)

-he is responsible for the return of original scent speedstick deodorant to the american marketplace (now the official deodorant of the nba) and we have the documentation to prove it.

-he is actively promoting al sharpton in the next election

- he doesn't let the fact that he is abnormally tall get in the way of his self-esteem

-he likes butter and he's not afraid to use it.

- when he was in kindergarten he was in a short-lived, but tough street gang in the bucolic new england town of his youth -- they were called THE ALLEY CATS

- he bakes the thatch signature cookies

- tighty-whiteys are his underpants of choice (sorry, pnj knows that this is really none of our collective business, but it is such a fascinating choice that pnj feels compelled to share it)

- yes, he's a little absent minded and gets irritated when you remind him of things that he has clearly forgtotten (like when you are in the car with him and he is driving and you feel the need to point out as you near the verazzano narrows bridge -- of which you are beyond terrified -- that we are in fact, driving to boston, not philadelphia -- forcing him to say, oops -- oh yeah -- alright...)but you are certain that this is because this perpetual state of half sleepiness, like a giant hibernating bear in feetsy-pyjamas, in which he exists is somehow related to why he is so nice

- he HATES microsoft, but essentially works for them and tells himself he doesn't

- he is bonkers for baby animals

3/12/03

cravings for communism and a planned society

ok -- apologies to anyone who is powerfully tired of hearing about pnj's quest for child etc. but frankly that is your own problem, now isn't it. this is my blog and i can write about whatever i choose, and you, dear friend can read about whatever you choose. this is the upside of our democracy here in america. please enjoy it while this is still possible. sigh...somedays pnj fears that serious censorship is just round the corner.

anyhow, its not the censorship about communism and a planned society that pnj craves (that would be totalitarianism and they are different -- no?) -- its the lack of choice. which brings me back to "Buy Buy Baby" (henceforth: BBB) the scariest superstore on earth, to which pnj has now been twice. clearly pnj is still scarred from the experience. this is why. upon entering BBB one immediately realizes that some amorphous "they" has got you by the proverbial huevos (that's apparently a mexican idiom for "balls" -- which is an american idiom for testicles -- one could of course, pursue this on some psycho-anthro level -- why do mexican's employ discursive language that refers to the fragility of testicles, while americans on the otherhand emphasize their bouncy nature?? makes you think, huh...this is no doubt someone's american studies dissertation just waiting to happen) anyhoo -- back to BBB -- your huevos are held by madison avenue and (in a foucauldian sense) society at large (including yourself!!) because apparently as a parent one is supposed to buy the safest, most educational crap for your kid as an expression of love, self-sacrifice (especially for moms), and your command over science (a necessary part of parenting apparently -- because this is an active science project --if you don't believe pnj then go and buy a "baby book" preferably by some dude called brazelton-- and pnj is constantly reminded (by no one more than herself -- remember this is a foucauldian thing -- and pnj is perfectly capable of self-policing)that she as busy reading us magazine and watching kg and spree and the twolves on tv rather than doing her science of parenting homework (an "F" for self-sacrifice already) -- and when pnj is confronted by so many pressing choices around "sippy cups" and little snuggy things and myriad safety mechanisms she longs for communism. pnj just wants to send her babushka to line up all day for the family's allotment of "food", "clothing", and goodness only knows whatelse while pnj trudges off to her job with the Bolshoi Ballet (you didn't think pnj was working on a communal farm somewhere did you?).

26/11/03

*********a song for pokey*********

you're a dog

you're quite a dog

you're so great and you're going far

oh what a dog you are

yes! you're a dog, you're a star!

the above is pnj's new song for pokey -- who has been attending the "vancouver dog school" up here in the hood (there is another dog school up here called the montreal dog school -- pnj, for her part, wants to open the winnepeg dog school or perhaps the saskatoon dog school...) and can now remain in the "down" position for quite some time while waiting for a liversnap. generally pnj does think it has been excellent for pokey's self-esteem -- as evidenced by her dwindling need to hump all the fluffy dogs in the dog park... we are so proud!

here's a little advice -- but pnj doesn't feel like putting it on the advice page -- because to be pnj is to be someone who can take any neat and straightforward and rational system for storage, organization, filing, you name it -- and subvert it completely until it is a mess. anyhow -- here's the advice - next time you have a wicked bad freakdown in the middle of the most obnoxious and terrifying super store of all time ("Buy Buy Baby" on 7th ave) because you are about to be a mother and you now realize that this fact involves making choices about which rectal thermometer to purchase and also because you suddenly realize that everything around you is in either a ducky or tickle me elmo motif- well then pnj suggests that you leave the store immediately and travel to brooklyn for a little brunch and a cocktail with good ol' kdunk over at morethandonuts. she'll set you right.

25/11/03

pnj is losing it.

after a night brimming over with stressy insomnia, pnj decided to skip the hour and 15 minute each way commute for a day of reading microfilm, to stick at home and get organized. some of us are headed to china is one week's time and we are hoping to have shampoo to bring on the trip. so pnj just decided to start things off right, with a plate of bacon and a fried egg and toast --actually a few slices of fried french bread -- because once you are frying, i mean why not? of late pnj has been buying very good bacon (because, surely you agree -- that pnj is worth it) - the thick kind that is not from a factory. i find that this does make a difference. anyhow its the kind of breakfast that is so good and yet at the same time makes pnj feel like she is all messed up with all of her priorities in the wrong place - as surely if she were a sane person she would take the time to have a proper breakfast every morning. in fact, perhaps i should quit my job and spend some time to make the occasional plate of banana waffles and really savor the morning. microfilm is evil.

some days you just love your friends. today is one of those days. i love you friends!!! love, love, love, love you!!!

no, really. fix your hair.

so yesterday pnj went to go and get a set of passport photos taken. of course, pnj already has a fabulous passport (really its that once in a lifetime kind of passport with all manner of stamps and seals in it) but these photos are for my chinese visa for my upcoming trip to china with thatch to pick up little hazel luo ya fang (fill in pnj's surname here -- never you mind what it is -- and do note that hazel shall have pnj's surname and not thatchers, as i won that honor in a heated game of rock-paper-scissors this summer)in only two and a half weeks time. anyhoo, pnj needed passport photos, so she popped round the corner yesterday to the photo shop to have a set taken. nice place, a little store front selling picture frames and film (not one of those very snotty, aren't you an artist or professional photographer? if not what are you doing here kind of photo stores) run by a lively Indian man in his early 50s. it went something like this

photoshop owner (henceforth po) -- can i help you?

pnj - two passport photos please

po - right away! you are going to wear that sweatshirt for your photo? (disapproving tone)

pnj - yes, its just a picture for a chinese visa, i am sure they dont care what i look like.

po - there is a mirror right there. (parental glare)

pnj- thanks, i think i am fine, i'm in a bit of a hurry (thinking to self-- uh -- excuse me -- i am going to china in like two and a half weeks, which means that i have to devote approximately four hours of each day just to sitting in one place and freaking out -- and as it turns out that leaves less time for taking care of such pressing responsibilities as getting passport photos taken and changing out of this sweatshirt, which has been doing me just fine all weekend thankyou very much).

po - well your hair is a mess, please use the mirror.

pnj uses the mirror and gets her look together -- yes, her hair was a mess, but then again, what else is new.

po exasperated leans over and fixes pnj's hair again, and then takes the photo.

apparently some people would have tidiness be a prerequisite for international travel..

16/11/03

pnj must keep it brief - since she must run for the 7.35 express train out of penn station this morning -- but here's a little anecdote that no doubt you all will find highly illuminating -- as it is so emblematic of male behavior.

the microfilm room

yesterday -- as it has been for several days now -- found pnj down in the microfilm room of the library reading old issues of the Botswana Daily News from the early 1970s. (my favorite headline was about how streaking will NOT be tolerated at public events). anyhow, in come these two late 40s/mid 50s professorial types to read some microfilm together (microfilm buddies - how totally cute!). this involved a 45 minute process of trying (loudly) to figure out how to work the microfilm reader. not once -- ever -- did they think of asking pnj for help -- though they took many a surreptitious glance at how my machine was threaded and how pnj was operating the zoom. not once -- ever -- did they consult the librarian whose desk was only inches away. oh no! that would be terribly emasculating and all -- after all this is a machine and they are men -- not just any old wussy machine either -- a MICROFILM machine -- microfilm -- like spies make and exchange and risk their lives over -- MICROFILM a mainstay of cold war movies (no matter that they were just trying to read some old newspaper from the turn of the century)and all that.

well -- macho professor men from the microfilm room, if you are reading this -- get the f- over it! and shut up while you are at it. ask for help, learn to thread your machine and then QUIETLY (it is a library after all) read your stupid microfilm -- some of us are trying to learn about an episode in which 20 naked men streaked through a garden party outside Gaborone, and how this type of behavior will no longer be tolerated.

13/11/03

ok -- pnj has missed you all terribly. this is just a segway blog to generate some distance on my screen from the blog below -- a blog that carries some sad memories of an event that made this here bostonian a little testy (do you think that word comes from "testes" ?)at her fellow new yorkers

Let's see. I believe that makes it Red Sox 1 and High-priced Pinstripe Wearing Pretty Boys -- ZERO!!!

when rich people yell...

let pinkynicejuice tell you -- it isn't pretty. pnj and pokey saw two wealthy people going at it on west end avenue this evening over a disputed parking space, and not only were potty-mouth epithets hurling about, but one gentleman had achieved a level of shrillness in his tone and style of personal comportment that well, lets just say i think pokey was a bit confused over just who was blowing the emergency high frequency dog whistle, and why...

7/10/03

tigers revenge

well pnj must point out the coincidence that not only was "roy" of "sigfried and roy" fame attacked by one of "his" tigers the other day, but yesterday police were called to an upper floor apartment on adam clayton powell in harlem to subdue another white tiger that had bit its captor. pnj is going to try to draw a simple lesson for you all so listen closely...tigers, as it turns out, are wild animals, not housepets, nor vegas show-cats. tigers appear to be staging a rebellion - - so the rest of you tiger owners (that includes you -- "sigfried"!), give it up now before we wind up with some sort of planet-of-the-apes (only with tigers) type scenario...

5/10/03

well its not all sun and roses after all...pnj is co-teaching a new class this semester (along with a fabulous colleague) on the history of sex and sexuality. fun graduate students, lots of good reading, its all so wonderful! but -- as is always the case in this life -- there is the inevitable down side... it turns out that the men who ride the commuter trains with pnj seem to think that reading about the history of sex suggests that one just might be interested in having sex with them (one of course must admire this highly narcissistic and frankly counter-intuitive logic). here is pretty much how it goes...

(mushy-red-head-guy -- henceforth mrhg): what are you reading?
pnj: ... (this is the sound of pnj pretending that she hasn't heard)
mrhg: (a bit louder) hey, what are you reading?
pnj: (still silent tilts book cover so that mushy-red-head guy can see cover he has already seen while she was reading)
mrhg: "making sex" huh? is that what they are teaching you at big state u? (pnj had just gotten on at big state u.'s stop)
pnj: i'm a professor, i teach it.
mrhg: you must be fun at a party! (icky look crosses over his mushy face) where are you headed?
pnj: to the next train car...

(aging frat boy in big pants: henceforth afbbp): (leans across aisle) hey -- what are you reading, "the history of sex"?
pnj: (silently shows cover of the history of sexuality volume I)
afbbp: that looks like a fun book, you must be a fun lady...
pnj: (in incredibly serious tone) well, actually i'm a professor of this stuff over at big state u, and well...unfortunately its not all fun. in fact, i'm just reading the part in this book about "masturbatory insanity" right now -- yep -- a young guy like you should definitely watch out for that -- it can be really tragic if you know what i mean...

afbbp: yeah... i know what you mean... (settles back in his seat looking a tad uncomfortable)

27/9/03

is toilet paper only for tall people? no, pnj thinks not. therefore, could someone please tell every deli owner in new york (especially the ones around her apartment) to please LOWER the toilet paper. we, the short people of new york, just once, want to choose our color of scott, 1000 sheets toilet paper, rather than lobbing a box of rice krispies up to the top shelf and hoping we knock the blue roll down, rather than that unfortunate looking one that is the color of bandaids.

22/9/03

go for the latkes, stay for the advice

last night pinkynicejuice went to fairway -- the giant and cheap and fabulous supermarket in her new hood -- it is open until 1 am. well for anyone who is not a new yorker -- fairway probably doesn't seem all that large, nor all that cheap -- but then again pnj's giant, cheap, and fabulous new apartment also no doubt seems expensive and cramped to the rest of you -- so you have to get in this kind of smurfish mindset where of course everything is tiny and small because we are all living inside of mushrooms and hiding from gargamell (sp?)

anyhoo -- over at the fairway deli counter one of the highlights is the tall guy who looks like a cross between snoop dogg and marcus camby (not as tall though) who yells -- hell-o, and que PASA? at you when its your turn. (the other guy yells -- if you're hungry - you're next!) he has a really beautiful voice (seriously) and sings 70s r and b and 80s songs to you while he packs up your latkes and applesauce.

last night when it was pnj's turn he sang "there is always something there to remind me -- how can i forget you girl -- when there is always something there to remind me... etc. etc." pnj for her part shared with him her suspicion that this was in fact a song about herpes. to which he replied rather seriously, "try not to think so hard baby"

20/9/03

"the stranger"

its finally happened. last night pnj saw something amazing on tv. an ad for the new billy joel broadway musical -- "movin' out!". basically a bunch of dancers who look like they were previously in "up with people" but are now at times dressed in that strange been around the block one too many times but pretending to be wholesome so that tourists from the mid-west can take their kids to see soft-porn broadway thing where they are wearing some kind of briefs and a button down shirt tied in the middle with high-heels and legwarmers and their flare-legged lycra pants partners dance these choreographed numbers to all the billy joel hits while this very blond guy who kind of looks like the guy from the carpenters (and a moment of respect please for the carpenters who pnj LOVES -- r.i.p. karen... we'd only just begun...) plays a piano and sings ALL of billy joel's hits. you know how you always used to hear billy joel described as rock -- but that made you feel kind of uncomfy -- what with uptown girl and that whole italian restaurant and piano man thing -- well now pinkynicejuice finally knows why! because all this time billy joel has actually been playing show tunes.

17/9/03

pokey, pokey, pokey -- we made you out of clay, and when you're dry and ready pokey we will play!

i miss my dog.

so a lot has been going on with pnj over these past few weeks-- preventing me from blogging -- here are a few highlights

laguardia at the usairways counter -- someone with an "eticket" had a hyphonated last name. quite an affair, there were like 30 USAIR staff members trying to figure out what to do! a real imbroglio...

conference by a lake. we sleep in bunkbeds. darlene falls out of bed in the middle of the night but insists she is ok. pnj for her part is startled -- sits straight up in bed and screams -- "OH MY GOD ARE YOU ALRIGHT???!!!!" thus waking up several people.

on the way home -- pnj's distinguished companion -- a tremendously accomplished scholar in her sixties is rather vigorously searched at the airport -- pnj tries not to look at her bellybutton while it is being "wanded".

first faculty meeting at big state u. before the meeting starts, pnj feels somehow compelled to make the two really nice women's history professors sitting next to her look at the full color photographs of vaginas in the book she is currently reading (note: this is a history book and not pnj's choice of reading material which is US Weekly magazine, and the pictures are quite tasteful -- especially the one of chimpanzees masturbating).

pnj's college roommate jen comes to visit my new fifth floor walk-up apartment and informs pnj of how to climb the stairs in such a way that she gets a firm tushy rather than thunderously large calves. (don't walk on the balls of your feet -- and squeeze as you go)

12/9/03

so pnj had her first department meeting at big state u. it was all rather sane, which was a bit disorienting - and no-one made any "motions" which was something of a relief. there was, however, a man in a safari suit with a hat and a big cigar. very curious george.

12/9/03

let's all just make a pact -- ok? no reading porn on the subway before noon.

12/9/03

yeah -- well it just dawned on pnj that within a few months time she is going to be somebody (actual her name is hazel)'s mother. this would appear to be a major responsibility for which pnj is wholly unprepared (as she has been warned by numerous people). how, you might wonder could someone be unprepared for something they have been working actively to acheive for the past five years or so? something they have been warned about the need to prepare oneself for by trained professionals and general advice giver types alike? pnj is not sure. anyhow there would appear to several more pressing questions at hand -- for example, what do you think babies eat?

So pnj just read the following late breaking wire story on the boston.com web site. i think you will find that this is the kind of story that really holds deep insight into the unique relationship between humans and animals. and actually, upon further reflection it also sounds remarkably similar to relations between thatch and pnj. especially the part about the toenails. (simply substitute thatch for lowell and pnj for lewis)

Orangutan corners zoo worker to get a hug By Associated Press, 8/27/2003

ROCHESTER, N.Y. -- Sometimes even an orangutan needs a hug.

Seneca Park Zoo volunteer Paul Lewis was cleaning out a monkey habitat when he heard something move behind him Tuesday. He turned his head and saw Lowell, a 300-pound orangutan who had escaped from an adjoining cage.

Lewis, 56, an animal lover who took the part-time job three months ago because he always wanted to work at a zoo, says he wasn't afraid.

Lewis tried to slip out through a gate but the orangutan followed him and stopped him from closing it. Then Lowell wrapped his arms around Lewis' legs and held on calmly -- for nearly five minutes.

"He wasn't holding me that tight," Lewis said. "I knew I couldn't run away from him -- I mean, I wasn't going to outrun him in a cage -- so I just kind of stood there and waited to see what he would do next. He kind of controlled the situation."

When the orangutan eventually loosened his grip, he took Lewis by the hand and led him back toward his enclosure. At one point, the animal even picked up Lewis and put him down. Moments later, he pushed him out of the cage.

By then, a veterinarian arrived with a tranquilizer gun. The orangutan was knocked out for up to four hours, and the zoo staff took advantage of the down time to clip his nails

27/8/03

the mole people

so this older guy was sitting next to me on the subway today with a really big mole -- lets say the size of a susan b anthony dollar -- on his forearm. so what? -- you think. well, pnj will tell you so what. this mole was a forest --actually more of a cultivated garden. the guy had over 150 very long hairs growing right out it (pnj did a quick count while pretending to read her book) like a patch of hairy carpeting, like that expensive yak skin pillow in soho, like he fertilized and groomed his mole. and let me tell you this -- now -- finally -- in fact, at long last (hoorah!) pnj understands why moles the growth share a name with moles the animal -- because if you groom them and cultivate them (moles the growth) properly they look just like little moles. related to this, pnj now thinks that moles the animal (hey -- that sounds kind of like mott the hoople) are kind of gross.

ok -- well-- today was packed with challenges for ms. pnj -- but you, dear friends, will be gratified (though surely not surprised) to hear that even when all the chips were down -- pnj rose to the occasion.

at 6:30 am i managed to trip -- and wound up sprawled face down on the floor of the coffee shop. in the process, pnj managed to somehow mangle her big toe and was then forced to ride the subway to penn station with mangled bloody toe sitting in a pool of sticky warm blood sandaled foot experience. as it turns out, one's big toe is tremendously useful and it is almost impossible to avoid using it. but pnj, relying on her training in brownies (did you know that i can make a terribly festive pomander ball for your closet -- place your holiday orders now!) simply went to the kmart underneath penn station and florence nightengaled herself right up!

at 12 noon, pnj walked towards the bus stop from the "barracks" in which her human resources orientation meeting was (i recently learned that these very barracks were used to debrief/disbrainwash defectors from the eastern block in the 50s! now they are used to inform new employees at big state u. about the discount on the defensive driving course that is one of the little perks that makes big state u. such a great place -- not to mention showing the promotional slideshow in which all workers great and small reflect on how going to work at big state u is really fun and like a great big family, while inspiriational music plays in the background and multi-cultural images and a few brief glimpses of B-list celebrities flash over the screen -- fortunately pnj is the type of lady who takes such presentations to heart -- and was in fact brought to tears by the introductory video that was shown during jury duty) -- anyhow as pnj prepared to wait the 40 minutes for the next shuttle bus (summer schedule on the shuttle bus is a tad sparse) to carry her back to her basement office on the main campus of big state u some five miles or so away a new philosophy professor in a white volvo drove up and insisted that since pnj had been at the same human resources orientation that he should drive pnj back to her office. after much dickering in which pnj feigned that she didn't really need a ride, and questioning to make sure it wasn't too much trouble -- in fact at the overt and very deliberate INSISTENCE of the new philosophy professor, pnj got in the car -- all was fine and then when we reached a spot about a mile or so from where pnj was headed -- right before the bridge that crosses the big river -- pnj's new "friend" pulled over and let pnj out to walk the rest of the way -- as he didn't like to drive through the center of town. fair enough, and of course pinkynicejuice doesn't mind walking -- but on the big high bridge over the river???? PNJ IS AFRAID OF HEIGHTS!!! never ever ever would i elect to walk on such a bridge. something to be avoided at all costs. its bad enough in a car, much less all alone on foot!! and didn't he INSIST that he take me where i was going? nonetheless pnj traversed the bridge, clinging to the railing, life passing before her eyes, big bloody mangled toe in sandals a-throbbing.

25/8/03

as it turns out there are reasons to wear a bra in brooklyn -- (even if it is before 7 am and one is simply going to buy a much needed cup of coffee)

what more reason does a girl need than the icky man who yelled "muy bonita" at pnj and then came a little closer so her could make a nice kissy sound right into her ear?

well in case that is not enough -- there was also the man who informed pnj that "you know -- making babies is free..." pnj, for her part, refrained from lecturing this man about the high costs of In Vitro Fertilization. let's just say he was lucky to have caught pinkynicejuice BEFORE the coffee...

23/8/03

re-entry

things pinkynicejuice has noticed on the occasion of her re-entry into new york city

- there is probably the greatest range (in terms of shape and size) of women's asses here in new york than anywhere else. (pnj had that revelation in the dressing room at century 21 -- also there's really a tremendous lot of discounted fashion to be had there -- pnj recommends you run there right now!)

- a lot of people wear velour pants even when its over 90 degrees and humid.

- the coke-head family on our block with the tripod dog that craps everywhere whose son/husband (who can tell really?) stole kendall's computer has discovered fireworks

- subway conductors take their job seriously (this pnj discovered unfortunately after someone released some noxious gas -- was it pepper-spray?-- on the F train yesterday causing a passenger to pull the emergency cord)

- a blackout is a good time to head to the corner bar with k-dunk.

21/8/03

pnj is emerging out of her basketball induced depression and is now just plain old vanilla cranky. what is she cranky about? well lets not go into that -- but here are a few suggestions that would make the world a better and more reasonable environment for pinkynicejuice to live, love, work, and play.

-cream of cheddar cheese is NOT a soup. perhaps it is some kind of fondue (or as my friend anne says: fon-don't) please remove it from the "soup of the day" rotation and replace it with vegetable, or minestrone, or lentil.

- related to the above -- lobster -- is NOT an icecream flavor it is a gimmick. would stupid people please stop buying it so that the icecream shop up the street would replace it with coconut almond chip?

-abercrombie and fitch should please go away (and take tommy hilfiger with you). as thatch pointed out the other night -- anything that combines preppy and slutty is probably a bad idea.

- could it please dry out a bit? it is so moist here that pnj is afraid that a mushroom might sprout out of pokey's arm pit at any moment.

- would someone please clarify for the new york times that the headline "bush sends troops to liberia" might lead one to believe that bush sent (more than 6) troops "into" liberia, rather than to the atlantic ocean. when they fired everyone did they forget to look at the headline guy?

- can the idiots in hollywood please refrain from making otherwise decent actors speak in absolutely unbelievably butchered and ridiculous boston accents (examples include rob morrow in quiz show, diane lane in perfect storm, tom hanks in catch me if you can...pnj could go on....)! this ridiculous and highly irritating practice only leads to those horrifying encounters where someone from the wisonsin dells upon meeting a bostonian feels the need to nudge them and shout "pahk the cah in hahvad yahd". (when really we NEVER say that and its not at all like someone can park there anyways. they'd tow your ass in heartbeat. we say -- i was down in the park drinking cutty sark in the dark with clark the aardvark)

- could everyone just please call me by my stage name: professor foofie q. snubington, phd.

6/8/03

well they have done it. the knicks have traded latrell sprewell and gotten in exchange...keith van horn! nice move -- let's trade the one guy on the team who actually plays like he gives a crap and get some oversized wuss in knee socks who no-one else wants because despite being an f-ing giant he plays like rene zellwegger (sp?). kevin mchale plays to win -- minnesota is looking fine -- kg and olowokandi and cassell and now spree. now that's a team. for her part, pnj will now abandon the knicks and return to the team of her youth -- the celtics -- a move which forces her to sacrifice a new purse and shoes in favor of some ridiculously overpriced cable tv service. it's almost as though the knicks gm didn't even think of the fashion ramifications for pnj when he made this bonehead deal...

why is fudge -- of all things -- a seaside food? yeah -- after a day at the beach, when i am kind of hot and salty and sticky, and the sun is shining, there is nothing i want more than to tuck into a big ol gnarly piece of fudge... how completely refreshing.

a wig

ok -- so pnj really wants a wig. in fact, i've wanted a wig for ages, but have been too lazy to get one. i wonder what would happen if i showed up for my new job wearing some kind of straight-haired, red-haired, short-haired wig. i think i am going to get an afro one too while i am at it. anyhow one wonders what is allowed and all fashionwise in academia. its one of those weird work things where you know there is a rule somewhere but no one is actively policiting it on the spot, and sometimes it seems that they give you more leeway if you are an anthropologist or a poet or a computer science gal/guy than if you are an economist or some other totally uptight discipline that spends its time "modelling" everything and then trying to hide everything that doesn't fit into the model with weird language, or just f-ing squeeze it into the model like those people in the japanese subway who wear the little white gloves and pack all the businessmen and little school kids and what have you into the subway cars... yeah good to be in a field where you don't have to wear pantyhose and a suit -- but sometimes pnj fears that she is pushing it a bit too far. usually this phase in the semester is set in motion by some sort of laundry crisis which is set in motion by some sort of laziness crisis. then prof. pnj is left standing in her room at 6 in the morning digging through the piles of clothing on her floor wondering if perhaps those purple glitter tights with the denim skirt and sneakers might not be just fine -- after all they are at least clean....

you know what i love about baseball? well -- ONE of the things i love about baseball -- the whole rock, paper, scissors aspect of it. f-ing fabulous -- talk about mind games.

you know when someone who always made you super happy dies, you just want to take a minute -- that's why it sucks that all of pnj's celia cruz cds are back in brooklyn.

22/7/03

the enigma

so there is a nude beach here on martha's vineyard -- really one of the most spectacular beaches on the island -- and the site of pokey's famous battle with the muskrat. (can you believe that thatcher had never heard of the song muskrat love -- until then?) anyhow though we try to limit our trips to the nude beach to wintertime- pnj does occasionally go there in fairer weather to commune with the glory of nature, despite the fact that the warm weather brings the nudists and your good friend pnj is a wicked uptight prude who would rather not see naked people -- not to mention the ever present fear that pokey will go over to a group of them and begin sniffing their genitals -- this has threatened to happen on several occasions --fortunately, the lure of dog treats is powerful (and of course the time when some icky naked man started hitting on my friend steph and i one day in like october when the beach was deserted and we were jus sitting on a rock, wearing jeans and sweatshirts and just trying to eat these totally giant donuts we had (humphreys on this island makes the most amazing donuts filled with homemade blueberry filling -- outrageous!!)and watch the sandpipers, and this middle-aged banker on his weekend off type naked guy comes up and tries to hit on us -- i mean can a girl just enjoy her donut in peace with out some penis wielding loser bugging her?) ... anyhow, pnj finds the nude beach very confusing. let me put it this way -- why would someone wear no clothes, but still don sneakers, a nike fanny pack, and a baseball cap? why would someone only wear accessories, but no clothes? isn't that a bit contradictory? plus most of the nudists look horribly sunburned -- so if sneakers don't get in the way of the whole nudist look and ethos -- then surely a little sunscreen isn't out of the question -- right? and what are they carrying in those fanny packs and napsacks on the beach if not at least some sunscreen? pnj once posed this question to her neighbor with whom she was dog walking in the nearby nature preserve. my neighbor, for her part, looked puzzled and revealed that not only did she not know the answer to the nudist in sneakers and fannypack puzzle -- but also that she had always assumed it was just another crazy thing that white people did, and was midly relieved to hear that not all white people were closet nudists. well glad we straightened out that part of it at least.

pnj hasn't felt much like blogging of late. not that i haven't missed you all terribly -- i just haven't had much to say for myself. i think i know why. the shopping moratorium that the ever fiscally responsible thatch suggested several months back continues and that is pretty much sucking the life-force out of me. without rampant consumerism pnj is slowly drying out and turning into a small pile of dust. oh well. perhaps some celebrity will come along and snort me and i will begin a new journey in this crazy, mad cap, adventure game we call "life".

whatever. anyhow -- my fabulous neighbor willie just came home from fishing and came to give us a big slab of mako shark he just caught. of course pnj answered the door -- in her pj's at 8:30 pm on a friday night. fortunately i had not yet applied the algae face mask -- but nonetheless -- it does leave one feeling a tad loserish. in fact, this has been a challenge pnj's entire life. your friend pinky nice juice is a morning girl.

pull up your pants.

that's right -- pull up your pants! while at first glance the contents of this blog might seem better suited to the pnj advice column, upon closer examination you, dear friend, will note that pnj is not offering advice here -- but rather giving orders and telling it like it is.

if the crotch of your pants is slung down around your knees, then yes -- i am talking to you -- and i, pinkynicejuice, command you-- young men out there to pull up your pants!

let pinkynicejuice explain something about pants. pants, as it turns out, are a wonderful invention. yes -- an opportunitity to express yourself is contained in each and every act of donning pants (and in every pair of pants you wear) -- but pants, in fact, offer more than a mere chance to identify oneself. they are also quite utilitarian, and pnj fears that many young men of today are not getting the maximum benefit from their pants.

not only are pants fashionable and good for the economy -- but they can also cover your tushy. if your pants aren't covering your tush -- well, then you are not getting your money's worth. pants also offer wonderful mobility while still allowing you to carry your wallet and keys (a fact to which any lady out there wearing a skirt and carrying a purse can attest). try this little test based on a simple rhyme (easy to memorize) to see if your pants are offering the mobility you deserve. go put on your pants. then do a little dance. see if you can't prance in your pair of pants. ok -- if you can't dance and prance without your pants getting in your way it probably means that they are too large for you and cramping your style.

if you aren't getting the maximum reward from your choice of pants consider these options. get new pants -- one's that fit. OR if secretly you are wearing those gynormous pants because you have some kind of exhibitionist need for us all to see your underpants, then stop sacrificing mobility. just wear your underpants, and a set of legwarmers or knee socks. no need for pants at all.

2/7/03

neighbors

here on martha's vineyard one can drown in how cute everything is -- its all so incredibly kittens and mitten and fudge and ceramic ducks that at times one can feel a bit angry. well only in the summer -- in the winter the cuteness all looks really seedy, like an abandoned carnival or something -- which is extremely fabulous and makes you feel compelled to drive about the island in the fog shouting -- grrr pirates!! anyhow people like to personalize their homes by giving them names, so one sees plaques on houses that say things like: "firefly" or "heart's desire" or a personal favorite: "the captain and his lady" -- which i always imagine is owned by some huggie bear (from starskey and hutch) type personae. this of course reminds pnj of thatch's very old red pontiac firebird station wagon that he had when we first met (and for several years hence)-- the car we all called "the bird". the bird was an incredible car -- she had those amazing floaty american 80s car shock absorbers, and the big super loose power steering wheel where you can parallel park by just using your index finger. and there was this very unsettling child's bathing suit that was always floating around in the way back beneath some tools (until it was enlisted to clean up cat poop one day), and this irritating sticky melted candy phenomenon on the dash -- created by one of thatch's ex-girlfriends (but we wont talk about her now will we -- given how thoroughly OUT of the picture she now is...). in fact the bird was so excellent that she was even the subject of a most beautiful tune performed by sinkhole -- thatch's former band.

anyhow the bird was festooned with bumper stickers proclaiming such slogans as "sun, suds, and sex!" and "single and looking to mingle" and "grandparents are special people" (which -- pnj might add -- is true and a sentiment that we here in america might do more to promote)and the best one "i like my whickey on ice and my women on fire" (and a big shout out to coach who remembered this!) there were quite a few of these and most of them were fancied up versions of some basic bumper sticker sentiment that seeks to unite tits, cars, and beer into a holy triad of sorts-- in fact, they reminded me a bit of my friend arthur's story about being at a waffle house in atlanta with a friend who was trying to play the waffle house juke box-- but it jammed, and out of the back of the waffle house some incredibly erudite patron proclaimed -- "hit it like you hit your wife!" (that's pinkynicejuice's long winded way of saying redneck while still maintaining her pc academic thang) -- but pnj digresses -- anyhow one sunday morning thatch and i were on our way somewhere and as we pulled out of our parking space and were turning the corner in front of our building (in an industrial section of south boston which was always deserted on the weekend) we passed a certain neighborhood denizen -- a homeless guy who eliot once gave several cases of empties to one morning -- thus eliciting an enthusiastic and totally unsolicited vow from this guy to never again take a dump behind our building again (ok -- thanks! and you, dear reader, might take this little kernel of knowledge with you and store it away for just in case -- pnj thinks you will agree that a few empty bottles is a small price to pay to prevent further episodes of human defecation in one's backyard)-- anyhow -- this guy who was sitting on the curb tucking into some boone's wild island stood up and said to thatch -- "is that YOUR car?" with a totally blown away awe-struck look and thatch said yeah. and he said "well ALRIGHT" and gave the thumbs up. now that's the kind of enthusiasm and appreciation and efforts at mutual understanding and respect that one is looking for from their neighbors.

30/6/03

who is my absolutely favorite celebrity of all time?

jerry remy. that's who.

there are some scary parents out there. in fact, if you -- like me -- enjoy wallowing in how challenging your childhood was, and perhaps complaining about how you felt compelled to take tennis lessons even though it was perfectly obvious to all who knew you that pinkynicejuice, (who we might at least mention was a mean "jacks" player, and knew like a gazillion moves in cat's cradle), sucked at sports and lacked a certain eye hand co-ordination which, in fact, led her piano teacher to burst into tears and forbid her from ever playing the piano again (pnj for her part remained dry-eyed throughout this encounter -- i mean no piano, no biggie, just relax lady) -- anyhow if that is you -- then you must rush out and get some perspective. that is what pnj did this afternoon -- on the advice of her brother-in-law and sister-in-law (and a big shout out to nancy who always exhibits fabulous taste in pop-culture)-- me and thatch went and saw SPELLBOUND, the documentary about the national spelling bee in washington. my goodness, it was rather intense, by the end (as thatch pointed out) they were practically making words up. yeah. anyhow, upon watching the film, suddenly the fact that my father's favorite word when pnj was small was "dink" seemed incredibly heartwarming.

29/6/03

polar bear

reading the blog of kdunk today -- over at morethandonuts
which was in turn, inspired by laura holder (an excellent blogger in her own right), reminded pnj of a little tale of her own about talking (and other things) in one's sleep...so a big shout out to kdunk and lauraholder and other sleep-blogging ladies!

now pinkynicejuice (who always keeps her cards close to the chest and all that) naturally, is not one to talk in her sleep. thatcher, however is another story. but, alas, it does not stop with talking -- as the following tale of woe from four summers ago will reveal.

on that fateful night, thatcher was sporting a plaster cast on his hand, having suffered a terrifically macho injury while playing soccer a few weeks earlier, an injury which subsequently required surgery and the consumption of several demerol. with his hand bound into a permanent greeting, we were calling thatch the polar bear -- an animal he truly resembles. anyhow, we were in our tiny house in oak bluffs, sleeping right across the hall from our truly fabulous friends john and brittney who had come to visit for the weekend. and pnj was awakened from her customary light, but comfy slumber to the sight of thatcher sitting straight up in bed, yelling something at me. suddenly gynormous thatcher -- the polar bear -- was pinning me down and beating me on the head with his plaster cast. pnj -- having been trained well for emergencies of all kinds by her mother -- began yelling "help!" "help!!" "john! brittney! help!!" help, however, was not forthcoming. instead -- the throbbing pain that is caused by beating one's spouse about the head with one's recently operated upon and cast covered hand --brought this sorry episode to a close, and thatcher began to lie on the bed moaining in pain and asking -- what happened? -- well as you can imagine, your friend pnj was a tad confused over the answer to that question herself. what did happen? and when, she wondered, might her head cease pounding...

well -- i am, after all, a trained historian, and can therefore reconstruct events. (yes, of course, you, dear friend, can also reconstruct events -- but mine could have properly formatted footnotes if i so choose) so with a little discussion, soon we discovered that thatch (world's most peaceful -- and extremely huge guy) had in fact, been ASLEEP this whole time. indeed he had dreamt something of a bad dream -- one in which, i pinkynicejuice was being attacked by a bad force of some sort (too many video games can cause one to dream about evil forces and gnomes carrying tiny shovels, and jedi knights gone wrong and all that), and that he was beating that evil intruder to get him off of me -- headlights from a passing car only confirmed this fact, as did the fact that pnj was screaming for help. so he was not sleep-walking or sleep-talking, but in fact, sleep-defending his wife!

in the morning of course we reviewed all of this with john and brittney.

pnj: didn't you guys hear me screaming for help?

john: yeah. we thought it was some kind of weird sex game.

20/6/03

chivalry is not dead! but it can be a tad annoying...

as it turns out, ms. pnj can park her car all by herself. why is it than when i am about to parallel park (a skill at which pinkynicejuice excels -- unlike, say, driving on the highway -- a skill at which she is less than mediocre) some random man (indeed it is always a man and never in all my life a woman) suddenly appears out of nowhere and starts making all kinds of crazy hand gestures and saying things like "ok keep coming, cut it! cut it! stop! ok, back..." supposedly ushering idiotic female me into my spot -- like pnj is operating a commercial aircraft that is easing up to the "jetway." in fact, yesterday this phenomenon took the form of some 17 year old boy who was decked out in abercrombie and fitch from head to toe and sporting that ridiculous hair that is bleached only at the tips, suddenly appearing out of nowhere and standing in my parking space while directing me. now how is pnj going to park melba, her massive 15 year old station wagon, if some barely post-pubescent idiot who has been driving for 6 months is standing IN her spot being "helpful"?

20/6/03

cavemen and caveladies

last week your friend and confidant pnj read the most fascinating story in the paper about some idiot who is out there promoting "raw foods" -- its really something of a "movement" -- not in the symphonic or bowel sense, but actually in the populist sense. this means that he only eats (and cooks -- well actually not cooks, but prepares -- at his restaurant) foods that have not been cooked. this, of course is far more natural (never mind that they have been dehydrated, peeled, pureed, marinated, mixed, pounded, and goodness only knows whatelse) and mommy nature does indeed know best. (never mind also that while mommy nature did invent fire -- via lightening and all that, she did not do likewise with the ronco food dehydrator -- a minor matter, or was it cavemen and caveladies who invented fire?). in fact, as this guy was suggesting, this was the diet of cavemen -- those incredibly virile, and remarkably healthy men of long ago who made that fabulous rock art and dragged their fur wearing insanely foxy and extremely healthy caveladies around by their tousled hair (inbetween painting cave art and stone tools). now as an historian of medicine, dr.p.n.juice can attest to the fact that cavemen and cave ladies were and INCREDIBLY healthy bunch (festering sores and intenstinal worms aside)-- in fact, perhaps it makes sense to really go for it all the way. why stop at raw food -- why not just live in a cave and wear underpants made from some old hyena pelt? i think we'd all live longer.

you talk too much.
you never shut up.
i said you talk too much.
oh boy you never shut up.

you're always spreading rumors whether bad or good.
you're the damn walter cronkite of the neighborhood.

run dmc rules

turtles are cute, but they kind of freak pnj out -- you know what i mean?

13/6/03

my nephew -- who is four -- just got scooby doo underpants and he is wicked pumped. aren't you jealous?

13/6/03

um...ok, anyone who thought that pnj was exaggerating when she wrote about the fear of riding through town in a coach drawn by white horses can come to my house (in oak bluffs -- not brooklyn) RIGHT NOW -- even as we speak a PINK carriage pulled by two (admittedly palimino) horses, driven by a guy in a top hat and tails, and festooned with wedding flowers is passing. followed by a couple of annoyed looking fishermen who are just trying to get tony's market to buy some f-ing beer.

7/6/03

oh -- why don't we actually PLAY dikembe mutombo... duh.

7/6/03

the academic mode of production...

pnj and pokey recently received the following missive from a fabulous friend, dr.bottomofthetotempolenewphd, who is working in the trenches out there at anonymous u.

Dear pnj (and pokey too because she seems like the type of dog to care about such matters), [this is, in fact, true -- pokey cares deeply]

Should you ever create another website, perhaps it will be to showcase evidence of horrors/injustice/misery of life in academia. Prof. Bottom of the totem pole would like to submit the following evidence for archive.

How it really is in academia. Actual emails included, but names changed to protect privacy of morons.

Round 1:

Hi Dr. Lazy,

I'm working on revising a paper summarizing the background section of the really cool idea grant. I don't know if Prof Peon sent this paper to you for review, but she had listed your name as an author on an early draft. I am leaving her on as first author. I need to check on your interest in continuing to work on this paper, whether you have time to do so, etc.

Sincerely,

Dr. Take all the Credit

Round 2:

Dear Dr. Take all the credit,

Thanks very much for letting me know about this. I would like to continue to be involved [i.e. be kept on as author]. I appreciate your moving this paper ahead.

Regards, Dr. Lazy

Round 3:

Dear Bottom of the totem pole new ph.d.,

[obviously irritated] I'm not quite sure why Dr. Peon listed Dr. Lazy's name on the draft, but I am uncomfortable taking Dr. Lazy off unilaterally so please leave her on as an author.

Best,

Dr. Take all the Credit

THE TRUTH - NEITHER DR. LAZY NOR DR. TAKE ALL THE CREDIT ARE REVISING

THIS PAPER. IT IS ALL BEING DONE BY DR. BOTTOM OF THE TOTEM POLE NEW PHD.

7/6/03

have you missed me?

because, pnj has certainly missed you. where has pinky been, you may have wondered...perhaps she was at the G8 summit, giving some much needed advice...or maybe she was in pittsburg watching the sox and the pirates play in those ridiculous 1903 "vintage" outfits (um, did they really have polyester in 1903?). well -- you were wrong. your friend pnj has been right here all along, in her tiny living room huddled over a folding card table she set up, completing THE HARDEST JIGSAW PUZZLE ON EARTH!! and now, in a fit of triumph, i return to mere mortal pursuits here in the world of blogging.

6/6/03

pnj reveals her true self!

to the chair of her department at big state u. oh yes she does. so prof. pnj (actually assistant prof. pnj -- but let's not get technical) despite all promises to herself to the contrary has jumped on the very first opportunity to reveal her deep neuroses, rampant disorganization, and general discombobulation to the chair of her new department. said chair simply wanted to know when pnj would be heading to big state u. to move into her new office. pnj, for her part, felt the need to reply to this two line email with FOUR, count 'em four separate email responses, each superceding the other, with escalating subject lines moving quickly from "Re: office", to "ignore previous", to "follow up query", to "oops, oh no -- ignore all previous!!", and each chock full of superfluous details about pnj's personal logistics, including dog sitting and transportation issues -- details which the new chair no doubt finds positively fascinating and highly pertinent. somehow pnj suspects this will earn her an office next to the boiler room, where the other faculty can hope to avoid her.

29/5/03

i do! (take your huevos and scramble them in a bowl for all to see and taste).

why are some weddings so incredibly emasculating? pinky nice juice often wonders about this. (and yes, pnj is up on the voluminous lit out there on gender identity, the construction of masculinity and the like, but here really we are talking about societal norms and something Marx called commodity fetishism) -- truly there are few things more depressing than hearing one's male friend regurgitate drivel from Martha Stewart Weddings about table linen and center pieces.

sometimes pnj senses that what women take to be fear of committment on behalf of their male partners is in actual fact, fear of forcing one's nephew to dress as little lord fauntleroy, or fear of riding in a white coach pulled by trusted white stallions through the streets of one's home town...

oh yeah -- and why do the invitations come with that little piece of tissue paper? answer me that.

28/5/03

does anyone out there think it is weird that thatch is so tall and pnj is so short? if not let pnj offer you this little math problem

If Sean Bradley is 7'6" and Thatcher is 6'4" and Pokeythedog is 2'10" (with ears standing straight up) -- how tall is Pinky Nice Juice if the following conditions are true?

The difference in height between Sean Bradley and PNJ is equal to that between PNJ and pokeythedog.

The difference in height between Sean Bradley and Thatch is equal to that between Thatch and PNJ.

ATTENTION!!!!! ACHTUNG!!! HEY - YOU!!!!

Did you all see that SLOWER.NET -- the mindbogglingly fabulous and absolutely supreme website of pnj's friend and general brooklyn maven e. shepard was described in yesterday's NEW YORK TIMES (pnj does believe that is the newspaper of record in nueva york ciudad) as essentially the hidden jewel of the internet!!!! fabulous. and he makes his own pasta too...

PULA!!! PULA!!!

26/5/03

saturday morning your close friend and confidant (sp?), ms. pinkynicejuice, made a vow that she would go for two whole weeks eschewing dessert -- just for the sheer mind over matter, holistic willpower, isis warrior goddess, pnj can do anything she puts her mind to thrill of it all -- and to stunt the growth of my ass. here is my first occasion to update you all on my progress.

saturday -- cannoli

sunday -- rice pudding

(this bowl of pudding was acquired at the insistance of anne from the new rice pudding hut in nolita -- From Rice to Rices. At long last we new yorkers can access twenty different flavors of rice pudding -- served in a new wave, vaguely scandanavian, futuristic pod room that looks like a cross between a set from sleeper and a stanley kubrick film (and a big shout out to the guy behind me in line who came up with the kubrick reference). as a bostonian, naturally the whole pudding motif made me powerfully homesick for the former "pudding it first" in coolidge corner.

monday -- macaroons (and pnj has high hopes for an italian ice later this evening)

so far so good...

19/5/03

is there some sort of expression about having a hair across one's ass -- or did i make it up this weekend, based on personal experience?

19/5/03

rummy

well it turns out that our secretary of defense -- d. rumsfeld --is a poet. thatcher found the following poem on the slate -- where they are featuring a lovely selection of rummy's verses, all taken from the defense department website. pnj is considering commissioning this underground talent to write one about pokeythedog

The Unknown
As we know,
There are known knowns.
There are things we know we know.
We also know
There are known unknowns.
That is to say
We know there are some things
We do not know.
But there are also unknown unknowns,
The ones we don't know
We don't know.

—Feb. 12, 2002, Department of Defense news briefing

17/5/03

transitions

yesterday was a day of transitions. some good some bad.

pnj submitted her grades, attended the end of the year department fete, and bid goodbye to sexist tech. sala sentle sexist tech, sekolo se se crappy. (that's setswinglish for-- stay well craphole).

the spurs not only beat the lakers, who were forced to leave the playoffs get into their custom made sports cars and head home to their multi-million dollar mansions in tears (literally -- which pnj thinks is a little much frankly), they slaughtered them. wiped the floor with them. banana cream pie in the faced them. tsamaya sentle lakers, bahumi ba ba sekang dikeledi. (that's setswinglish for -- go well tycoons who shed tears).

june carter cash died. my setswinglish isn't good enough to pay tribute.

16/5/03

having just now completed the grading of her students' final papers for the semester, pinky nice juice feels it necessary to remind you, dear friends, of something she apparently neglected to tell her students.

africa, as it turns out, is a continent. not a country.

13/5/03

hooray we're moving on up...

well, in the great tradition of george and wheezy jefferson (or jed, granny, jethro, and miss ellie clamped -- take your pick) it looks like pnj, thatcher, and pokeythedog are headed uptown to manhattan, leaving brooklyn behind for the benefits of apartment ownership (and a big shout out to john emlyn lewis and his fantabulous blog for setting pnj straight on why this might actually be a reasonable thing to do). this potential move is bitter-sweet to say the least -- as there is truly NO place on earth that could possibly kick ass like Brooklyn. Below, pnj offers you concrete and irrefutable evidence of why...

last weekend, as she emerged from the subway and walked the few short blocks to chez-pokey, pnj encountered the following.

12/5/03

things pnj inherited from her mother

well, the most significant thing pnj inherited from her mom, is the compulsion to buy bread (this includes muffinry, cakes, and such)to assuage anxiety. in fact if you open the freezer of Mmapinkynicejuice (that's Setswana for the pnj's mom) you will find a tremendous assortment of bread and bread products, all organized in little freezer bags and such. pnj cannot claim any organizational scheme, but she did go out earlier for shampoo and instead returned home with a two pound chocolate babka.

12/5/03

morethandonuts' weather forecast yesterday: cold and muggy with a chance of sun...

pinkynicejuice's weather forecast today: cloudy, with a chance of meatballs

12/5/03

the horror...

pnj has seen something most unpleasant.

let me put it this way -- if you are in the market and your five year old child points to something and asks what it is -- the following should NEVER be the reply-

...well lillith (or fantasia or fallon or whatever they are calling snotty little new york baby girls on the upper east side at the moment), that is a semi-soft, raw, cow's milk cheese with a washed rind from the pyrennes, you'll like it -- its similar to the cheese you enjoy from the trappist monestary near Zurich...

whatever happened to lunchables?

9/5/03

(to the tune of the rainbow connection, from The Muppet Movie)

why are there so many songs about pokey

and what's on her underside?

pokey's a doggie, but only a doggie

and canines have nothing to hide

its so amazing, how she just keeps grazing

as though she were really a cow

someday we'll find it, the pokey connection,

the lovers, the dreamers and poke

all of us under her spell,

we know that's its probably magic...

ok -- you know what are absolutely adorable? puppies! that's what.

so just now pnj and thatcher were stepping out of a cab onto henry street one half block from our apartment, when a police van pulled up and the two cops in it asked thatcher and pnj to show some id. they also asked to see the contents of our bag of burritos. later they looked sheepish when they identified that the empty bottle thatcher was carrying had previously contained GINGER beer, not real beer.

let me ask you this -- even if it were an empty bottle of real beer -- in fact, even if it were an empty bottle of malt liquor -- dont you think that new york's finest might have some better things to be worrying about? pnj guesses that they must be done detaining all the middle eastern immigrants in the city and have now moved on to ginger beer drinking new englanders.

4/5/03

last thursday pnj had a dentist appointment. this was my first time with my new dentist -- he's a bit odd but assured me that he is a great dentist and that he "teaches at columbia and nyu for free -- i mean i just offer them my services" (quite the act of generosity), he also maintains the largest dental website on the internet. plus he is a self-published author and gave me a free copy of his book (which pnj was forced to leave in a garbage bin outside, since she was traveling light), it was almost entirely made up of glossy color photos of "conditions" that can happen in one's mouth, and he used the phrase "informed consent" like 500 times during our appointment.

anyhow -- afterwards pnj walked 70 some off blocks from rockefeller center up to her meeting at columbia with her fly down the entire way.

hello new york

some nights, after a few drinks with a friend, riding home over the brooklyn bridge while your cab driver speaks bambara into his cell phone and plays classic hits on the radio -- it is easy to love new york...

3/5/03

pnj has a new boyfriend and his name is Maurice Cheeks!

3/5/03

i'm not a fighter pilot, but i play one on tv

pnj feels the need to gently remind out president that some might find it a bit confusing to see him landing on an aircraft carrier (in a plane someone else is piloting) and then getting photographed up the wazoo in an aviator suit (is that what they call it?) -- after using his daddy's connections to scam out of combat service during vietnam. why not just go for it and get an astronaut suit and wear that around some with images of the moon landing playing in the background?

2/5/03

i rule!! no wait a minute....

last night pinky nice juice arrived home after a long day at sexist tech to an incredible site. my goodness!! a ROYALTY check (for 53 bucks) from sales of my doctoral dissertation. of course, pnj immediately showed thatcher, who was dutifully proud of the 13 sales this represented.

and then ms. pnj spent several moments basking in what a supreme bad ass she was -- i mean this much money just from selling doctoral dissertations! who buys doctoral dissertations anyhow? perhaps my research is not as obsure as i have been led to believe. well, pnj must be making quite a name for herself in the fast paced world of african history if this many people are willing to put down cold hard cash for my dissertation. perhaps after it becomes a book i can just quit my day job and write full time. no need to teach -- i can simply collect ROYALTY checks. In fact, I AM essentially royalty myself at this point. now i know why they call it that (certainly there is no underlying historical explanation). pokey can sleep on a cashmere pillow and eat nothing but steak and the thigh bones of organically raised buffalo, and i, pinky nice juice, well i will probably need a whole new wardrobe -- i will be a "writer" after all...and maybe i can get one of those cute Mini cars -- maybe in green -- yes definitely green (with a sunroof)... why am i so consumed with shopping? this is an academic, and intellectual success the value of which clearly transcends any material significance....

ooops. wait a second. hold on. and then it dawned on your friend pnj ever so slowly. I -- Pinky Nice Juice -- bought those copies of my dissertation, and sent them to friends and organizations who helped me in Botswana.

29/4/03

here's a thought. before you subject a room full of people to your "ideas" --your so-called "presentation" -- why dont you practice it first? and while you are at it, get a watch too. congratulations that you can use "power point" -- we are all terribly impressed with your gynormous bullet points and graphics. but pinky nice juice and her colleagues would so appreciate it - if you could limit your mindnumbingly boring remarks to the time alloted.

25/4/03

i am using thatcher's computer - its is tremendously high tech and runs on linux and is really so ultimately geeky. just like thatch. in fact, if i were to give this computer a bad haircut, a punk rock t-shirt, a kiss belt buckle, a burrito, and a pair of glasses i bet his own mother couldn't tell the difference.

25/4/03

today is one of those days where pnj woke up already wanting to cry. is this simply the hang over from how many times she stuck her foot in her mouth yesterday? or is it a gentle warning from the future, that today is already lost -- it can only go downhill from here? time will tell...

24/4/03

if you can't get a job -- go to graduate school!

yeah that's right. that makes a lot of sense. as people regularly insinuated to me during my entire interminably long tenure as a graduate student -- it is really just some sort of escapist enterprise for lazy, pussy, self-important, esoteric types who can't be bothered to do any actual work (oh yeah, aside from waiting tables, and teaching undergrads at elite institutions where the students dont actually meet the professors -- but that of course doesn't count -- its "training" and a "rite of passage" -- not work)

perhaps true -- but that is also the kind of mentality that produces such stellar moments at sexist tech as pnj's graduate seminar last year in which a terribly sophisticated graduate student objected to the whole health care enterprise on humanitarian grounds. "i mean -- dont you guys think that it is just wrong for us to be like destroying viruses and bacteria -- aren't they living creatures too?"

you got me there...

22/4/03

today in class pinkynicejuice had to say a few words about clitorodectomy... somedays pnj wishes she taught home ec. making denim back packs and pizza bagels seems much more clear cut.

21/4/03

oops - after struggling with the incredibly cryptic menu at the japanese soba restaurant today, pinky nice juice inadvertently ordered TWO lunches - which was a tad embarassing -- and rather expensive when it all came.

belch.

this reminds me of the tale of a certain woman i knew in college who went to germany on her honeymoon. she and her new husband stayed at a pension which is like a cross between a mini-hotel and a bed and breakfast -- uber european. apparently this pension was run by a rather stern, deeply intimidating german lady.

the first morning they went down to breakfast, where the lady had laid out a little buffet with a selection of cereal and bread and jam and hard boiled eggs and fruit and whathaveyou. well, our protagonist was a little uncertain about how the whole system worked, and feeling a bit intimidated and confused and also no doubt awed by the solid germanic physiques that surrounded her, mistook the rather large serving bowl of granola to be a single portion of granola. so she poured milk on it and brought it to her table -- where her new husband informed her that she had just taken the granola that was intended to feed all 10 people staying at the pension. realizing her mistake she looked up and found the pension frau lady/owner glaring at her, and decided that the best thing to do was to pretend that she meant to take that much granola. in fact, she f-ing LOVES granola and begins most days with a substantial two pound bowl of the stuff -- and she demonstrated as much by forcefeeding herself the entire bowl -- which took like an hour and pretty much dominated the whole first day of her honeymoon.

18/4/03

bananas and pork

today -- on her way back from the pork store (where pnj was treated to the MOST outstanding eggplant parm hero one can possibly imagine -- and the absolutely mind-boggling event of the owners of the pork store sharing their thoughts on the pork store featured on the sopranos (i mean there are only so many pork stores out there so one assumes that they have a particular take on the matter)-- this conversation was spurred on by the fact that one of the owners of my pork store was at the knicks game this week and saw several of the sopranos actors in the stands -- including ** christopher** whom he described as "a complete midget -- the guy is only as tall as spike lee" -- having once seen spike lee myself in martha's vineyard pnj is disheartened to report that he is in fact, the same height as yours truly -- pinkynicejuice) -- anyhow returning home from the pork store -- pinkynicejuice was followed by a little man in a straw hat with a spanish accent who kept right behind me saying over and over again -- banana. i want a roasted banana. banana. banana. i want a roasted banana.

do you think this is some kind of message???

17/4/03

the combination of the blog below and pokey's dog nose burrowed into my leg reminds me of when i first got pokey and a few people felt it must be their duty to confront me with the truth of the matter(knowing of my longstanding and fraught attempts to have a baby) and said "you realize that you are just getting a dog because you can't have a baby". my reply: "yes i do -- so what is your point?"

i mean its not like i was dressing pokey up in a baby bonnet and pushing her about the town in one of those giant strollers that encourage people to carry their life's possessions with them... leave me and pokey alone.

17/4/03

ok -- if one more person assures pinkynicejuice in no uncertain terms that nothing "i mean nothing" can possibly prepare her for how incredibly consuming and overwhelming and blowaway life changing it is to be a mother -- and then follows up this bold statement offered with all the hubris that only parents can muster -- with a query as to what pnj is doing to prepare herself -- pnj will stab them in the eye with a dull fork. yes -- mommies and daddies of the world -- let me see if i have got this straight-- there is NOTHING i can do to prepare myself -- i am doomed to be unprepared -- so i must begin preparing immediately...

17/4/03

today, purusing the always fabulous website of morethandonuts, pinky nice juice enjoyed a deep moment of utter homesickness for beach and sand and grass. it is finally warming up here and after a very new york kind of weekend, it is easy to long for such places.

then just now, walking through the cement maze of sexist tech, pnj realized that actually she was longing for something much further out of reach.

today, i wish i were in botswana. if i could be anywhere right now, it would be stretched out next to dikeledi, lying on a black and white goat skin mat, in the cool shade of the bougainvilla arbor at mma moremi's compound -- gossiping about friends and coworkers, or perhaps planning what kinds of sandwiches to make for her two boys to take to school that week.

somedays the world is much too big

14/4/03

this morning pinky nice juice was fored to wake pokeythedog up at 9:30 am -- as i had grown impatient waiting to take her on her morning walk. i ask you --what kind of self-respecting dog needs to be woken up in the morning? whatever happened to the days when dogs woke you up -- carrying their leash in their mouth?

11/4/03

if thatcher and pinky nice juice are to remain married there is one thing above all that we must avoid at all costs-- shopping together. this includes a brief trip to the deli.

10/4/03

_-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

amidst all her constant bitching and moaning about life at sexist tech -- perhaps pinky nice juice has neglected to pay tribute to her colleague -- N. It is hard to sum up the utter fabulousness of N. -- but perhaps the following will suggest something of it to you all -- dear friends. This morning, pnj arrived at work, punched the key pad security code to enter the department office (oh yes! we are all terribly secure at sexist tech with this state of the art 1960s door locking mechanism, which also features on the women's room --a student told me that it was instituted in response to some sexual assault cases -- reassuring...)to find that her mail box contained a certain plastic bag filled with soft, chewable, non-toxic and utterly adorable DOG TOYS!!!! a gift from N. to pokeythedog. the plush brown and pink "slice-o-cake" is pnj's personal favorite -- in fact, it looks good enough to eat!

7/4/03

new york's bravest meet new york's assholes

early this morning (all too early thanks to day light savings time, which pinky nice juice thinks should mark the end for all snow possiblities for the season -- thank you very much -- are you listening mommy nature???) pnj and pokey the dog encountered the following scene a mere two blocks from their abode. three fire trucks (including a hook and ladder) and two smaller fire vehicles all with lights flashing and new york's bravest pouring out of them, wielding axes and other such iconic pieces of fire fighting paraphernalia were blocking the street, clearly in an attempt to save brooklyn based blood and treasure (life and limb -- take your pick). behind them were a line of several motorists, who seeing that they would now have to make (oh no!!!) a LEFT turn instead of going straight, began to honk incessantly.

oh yes, please mr fireman, stop lollygagging about trying to save lives and move your gynormous trucks out of MY way -- go back to your firehouse, make a pot of that chili for which you are so famous -- and read some of that fan mail from 9/11. i need to get my SUV into manhattan before the movie playing on the vcr with which it is equipped finishes and i am forced to give my child another ridilin. yes, move, get out of my way -- i am that most enormous of new york assholes who cannot take public transportation...

all this the day after massive rallies were help throughout the city to protest the mayor's plan to close several firehouses due to budget cuts.

7/4/03

today pnj took herself out for a little lunch. unfortunately her fancy grilled cheese and coffee experience was marred by a very disturbing sight. a woman sitting across from me was actually wearing a t-shirt that said, FUCK BOSTON RED SOX. there are times in life where pnj wishes she weren't such a big wuss...

3/4/03

well - fancy that -- pnj just saw **iman** the supermodel. may i take this opportunity to say that she is looking remarkably foxy for a lady of her age.

29/3/03

big pharma meets the richest computer geek on the planet

pnj just had a little phone chat with the janus-faced devil. and just as in movies like **bedazzled**, this devil has morphed into a very seductive guise, offering the promise of medical care for many in need (and of course some large homes with teams of servants for some not in need)...as always after talking to the devil pnj is left alternating between hope and despair in some sort of pointless loop.

28/3/03

mazeltov to me!!

pinky nice juice is probably the luckiest lady on the planet these days. next fall she will begin teaching at big state u -- a truly fabulous and fun place where the students number 30,000, professors wear jeans, and where one is not often subjected to academic terms like "inter-textuality" and "(gyn)-e-cology".

27/3/03

tonight pinky nice juice learned a little something when she experienced some sort of brain fart and ordered a margarita in an ethiopian restaurant. well, at least it was served in a martini glass..

27/3/03

through the looking glass... darkly

last night pnj was the only person at a table of four -- INCLUDING thatcher -- who did not agree that Hall and Oates were a great pop band. in fact, she was somewhat ostracized, but nonetheless stood up for her heartfelt convictions.

in fact, songs like, "private eyes they're watching you" ; "because your kiss is on my list" ; and "maneater" were all held up as evidence of their extreme talent.

i am without the words.

27/3/03

why must one, year after year, be forced to endure bill walton simply to watch a nationally televised basketball game? you know, in new york we enjoy the smooth stylings of walt clyde frazier almost nightly...dont network executives WATCH tv?

17/3/03

let sleeping dogs lie

pokey doesn't have many responsibilities. guarding the house in our absence and wagging her ass in an incredibly vigorous fashion upon our return, is pretty much her only job. upon occasion, however, we do manage to catch her asleep on the job. if one tiptoes up the side porch and quietly enters the house while she is still dead asleep (no easy feat)one can enjoy the unfettered amusement of seeing pokey completely embarassed.

17/3/03

as it turns out they have decided to change the two A&P supermarkets on Martha's Vineyard (the island where we sometimes live and are currently) to Stop and Shop. I am not at all certain how I feel about this...

"Humans have inhabited this world for several hundred years."

this alarming news, dear friends, was revealed to pinky nice juice by one of her students, who opens his essay for class with this all too telling statement....

9/3/03

i am so sick of academia i could puke.

8/3/03

building a better mousetrap

gross as it is, thatcher and i have been plagued by a certain small mouse for two months now. pokey, as it turns out is completely useless. we may as well have a platapus instead of a dog for a pet. anyhow -- driven by my repeated freak outs (usually broadcast while cowering on top of a chair) thatcher (a trained engineer, that ought to tell you something) has repeatedly tried and failed to prevent the mouse which lives in the wall (i'll call it singular: mouse, but it does seem to replicate itself remarkably even after thatch carries it outside with its little neck snapped in the trap) from entering chez pnj. well -- if pinky nice juice wants something done right -- she simply must do it herself it seems. with thatcher out of town for two weeks, and spying the mouse sitting in pokey's dish having a little snack (while pokey watched in a vaguely interested manner) there was no one to hear me freak out, and thus pinky nice juice was forced to take matters into her own hands. i wont go into details (though the feburary issue of W magazine, a binder clip, and some tin foil were involved), but let's just say i haven't seen hide nor hair of that mouse in over ten days now...

6/3/03_

thatcher is out of town so it is just pinky nice juice and pokey the dog alone for two whole weeks. truly when one is shackled to a roommate for the rest of one's life (joyous though that may be) there is no higher form of existence than being wholly on one's own for weeks on end, with the run of the place. there is the danger, however, of getting truly out of hand without a witness around to ground one. pinky nice juice reached this stage thursday evening when she found herself sitting on the couch, eating cupcakes, and singing along (rather heartily i might add) to the Simon and Garfunkel Concert in Central Park video that was playing on PBS. As it turns out, I know all the words...

1/3/03

it's almost like no one is going to bother saying anything or even noticing that david robinson is retiring this year. why? because michael jordon is doing it for like the 46th time and he sells men's underpants as a sideline. blech.

1/3/03

pirate's booty?

all i know is that pokey won't even touch the stuff. and she'll eat just about anything. who names a snackfood booty anyhow?

1/3/03

pinky nice juice used to be addicted to cigarettes. yes, from around age 12 to age 24 she consumed nearly two packs of cigarettes a day. eventually that just became too much of a hassle so i quit. now pinky nice juice is addicted to cookies (this includes cupcakes and brownies). much more wholesome and less smelly -- but a royal pain in the ass of a habit to support nonetheless. in fact, sometimes it seems that cookies are even more burdensome than cigarettes as there is the inevitable variable of choice. what kind of cookie to have? where to get it from? this can become ridiculously time consuming. there is the ever present danger of getting overly fixated on a particular cookie that is only available from a bakery that is fifteen blocks away, when in the end surely a nutterbutter or an oreo from the deli on the corner should suffice. i must say that it really doesn't help that thatcher is also addicted to cookies but won't admit it. i mean rarely buying cookies, but instead constantly sponging them off of me does not mean that one is not addicted -- only that one is not pulling their (considerable) weight.

20/2/03

Pinky nice juice is currently "on hold" waiting to speak to her doctor. (i guess that means i am "multi-tasking" -- how tremendously thrilling) Fortunately her doc has decided to keep pnj entertained with the mellow and moving rhythms of "Sometimes when we touch" (The honesty's too much). Which features such pearls as "I'm just another writer trapped within my truth." Yes, this makes pnj realize that I do, in fact "want to hold you till the fear in my subsides..."

20/2/03

last night pinky nice juice heard the most disturbing rumor that the knicks were considering trading latrell sprewell for keith van horn! i am without the words to describe how absolutely horrifyingly bad that would be. the mere thought leaves me completely disgusted.

20/2/03

well - its good to be back to blogging. your friend, ms. pnj has been terribly busy of late, and has missed you all considerably.

yesterday pinky nice juice donned several layers of pants, tops, socks, mittens, and coats and headed uptown with thatcher, amy, and bella to join the anti-war rally. this is quite surprising as pnj is one to avoid cold at all costs, and customarily more of a kibbitzer than an activist. anyhoo -- it was a rather incredible spectacle. somehow disturbing reminiscent of the cape seal colony on the Skeleton Coast in Namibia where pinky nice juice along with her best girls bo-ausi steph and kate observed the aggregation of more bodies in one place then we had ever before witnessedor could hope to imagine. on the way to the seal colony were we all desparately hoping that we would be lucky enough to catch site of a seal! that turned out to be a misguided hope. in fact, the experience left me with the fear that the seal population was so large that soon they would be taking over our cities and towns. you could come home from work and find a big furry brown seal sitting in your chair, eating chips and watching Oprah. there were seals everywhere, packed together in great heaping mounds as far up and down the coast as one could see. big honking blubbering stinking moaning seals. hundreds of thousands of them. anyhoo-- the peace rally was really nothing like that -- but sharing something with the seal colony in terms of scale.

16/2/03

let me put it this way. aaaaaaggggghhhhhh! pnj needs a day off.

sexist tech is revving up for its annual faculty talent show!! basically they are looking for acts under 7 minutes -- suggested "talents" include: impersonations, poetry, singing, dancing, ventriloquism...

you know -- this presents an unprecedented opportunity for pinky nice juice to revive her "routine" from junior high and display it to the math faculty at sexist tech. are you familiar with pnj's junior high routine?

well -- first you will be shocked to discover that pinky nice juice -- graceful swan that she is -- was in remedial gym in junior high. now don't feel pity -- she was later mistakenly ranked (by virtue of being able to run very very fast for 25 yards only) into the very athletic gym cohort in 9th grade and can therefore say with utter confidence after contrasting the two experiences, that remedial gym is where she belongs.

anyhoo back in junior high there apparently had been some state budget cuts or some such thing that led to the absence of the remedial gym instructor. without a trained professional on the scene it can be very dangerous and scary to let the students in remedial gym play actual sports not to mention dodge ball -- and certainly none of us was capable of climbing those ridiculous ropes -- so instead a different curriculum was devised. each student, after donning appropriate polyester shorts and t-shirt, was given a basketball. then the instructor (no doubt on loan from the art department) would play a recording of Donna Summer's Last Dance over and over, while we each devised a "routine" to the beat, involving such moves as bouncing the ball under one's leg, bouncing the ball, walking while bouncing the ball etc. it is actually a very challenging task -- as the tempo of the song does change partway through.

5/2/03

pinky nice juice is forced to read a lot of tremendously detailed and boring crap -- this after all is her job. but fortunately amidst the tediuous also lies the truly fabulous. the following i learned yesterday from Thomas Laqueuer in his book, Making Sex: Body and Gender from the Greeks to Freud (p. 174). I am certain that you too, dear friend, will also find it of great interest.

"For much of the period under discussion here [the 19th century], the role and nature of sperm remain obscure. Spallanzani had proven in the late eighteenth century that no amount of vapor from semen would fertilize frog eggs, that Harvey's aura seminalis was insufficient to cause the female mold to produce tadpoles, and that increasing filtrations of semen eventually rendered it impotent. He showed that naked male frogs mounting a female fertilized her eggs but that frogs wearing little taffeta trousers did not; he went on to demonstrate, furthermore, that the residue on their ludicrous garb was potent."

of equal delight is the fact that pinky nice juice was able to easily locate this passage in the index where it was listed under the heading: frogs, in taffeta trousers, 174.

2/2/03

this dog was made for walking, and that's just what she'll do. one of these days my dog is going to walk all over you...

hee hee

2/2/03

ponder this

why is sleeping on the couch so sublime by day and so crappy by night?

2/2/03

so pinky nice juice has just returned from two days of very intensive job interviews at big state u. though sexist tech certainly has its charms, miss pnj would very much like to move on to big state u. where there are many kindred spirits and lots of fun things going on. therefore it was indeed a certainty that at some point during the two day process pinky nice juice was bound to do something to reveal her true freakishly awkward self. this moment came last evening. after a full day and evening of interviews i rode the bus home with two fabulous young professors from the department in question. upon reaching port authority where we split up for different subway lines, one told me it had been nice to meet me and encouraged me to call her with any future questions. pnj for her part -- blew her a kiss. yes, dear friends, i did not thank her for her time, i didn't wish her a safe journey home, i didn't tell her good night. I BLEW HER A KISS thus identifying myself as the sort social deviant that you know me to be. oops.

30/1/03

speaking of childhood neurosis -- i also went through a phase where i liked to wear a hairnet. somehow i thought it was quite glamorous (????) and used to wear it to the dinner table.

30/1/03

pinky nice juice would like to take this opportunity to share a neurotic episode from her childhood. somewhere round about age seven or eight, i went through a period of some days in which, having grown increasingly worried about my responsibilities -- you know pressing concerns like unloading the dishwasher in the morning, and riding my neighbor's hippity-hop, i decided that in order to make sure there was enough time to get it all done it made sense to get dressed the night before for the next day and sleep in my clothes, thus giving me those extra ten minutes in the morning that enable one to get a jump on her day.(after a stretch of this mom called miss pnj on this and encouraged her not to take life so seriously).

anyhow why does this come to mind now? well possibly because your friend, pinky nice juice has such a big, long day tommorrow, so packed with stressful responsibilities and presentations, that sleeping in my clothing again comes up as a reasonable time saving option. unfortunately, it does not seem that a suit, would make for nearly as sound a night's sleep as that snoopy emblazoned danskin pants and t-shirt set from back in the day.

28/1/03

it is with great sadness that pnj has learned that yet another member of her high school class -- sarah pettit has died. sarah was one of the founders of OUT magazine, a terrific writer, and a most serious bad ass. though pnj was not particularly close with sarah pettit, nor have i spoken to her since we left school two decades ago - i still think it sucks completely that she is gone. i am also reminded yet again of so many friends who are also gone -- all of whom were young and shared a similar bad ass quality...

so dear friends -- let me remind you of the obvious -- that life is indeed short and unpredictable. try to take as big a bite as you can.

24/1/03

pinky nice juice is an early bird. in fact, i am often up long before dawn, hard at work, savoring a rich mug of freshly brewed coffee. that is except today. no this morning, with the weather substantially below zero -- in fact with all sorts of freakish warnings in the local media about the dangers of the cold (the sort of thing where folks from maine delight in watching us idiotic city dwellers panicking over nothing) pnj woke at 5:30 am from a restless and anxiety filled sleep in which she continually replayed the overwhelmingly long and scary list of things she must get done. well no time like the present, so miss pinky nice juice got out of bed, made coffee and opened the refrigerator to discover that there was NO MILK! Thatcher, my erstwhile husband and roommate it seems had DRANK all the milk last night.

let's take a poll. who out there DRINKS milk by the glass?? (those of you underage are disqualified).

no milk is for coffee, and should be treated as such, especially when the lack of it means that some of us must get dressed, leave the house in the pitch dark, and walk several frozen blocks to the lone convenience store that is open at such an hour.

anyone who dares insinuate that this is evidence of why pnj should forgo coffee altogether can come over to brooklyn and take it up with me in person.

23/1/03

pokey has a boyfriend and his name is frank.

22/1/03

today classes begin again for your friend pnj. what will the semester hold for me and my students at sexist tech? no doubt a lot of good times, warm smiles, and heart felt cheer, as we all bask in the golden glow of knowledge.

22/1/03

friends and sandwiches

today pinky nice juice had to hop in a cab as the subway conductor announced that he would be bypassing my connecting station "due to ongoing police activity." apparently someone forgot to tell the police who were nowhere in evidence, and the people waiting on the platform irritated that our slow moving train failed to stop and open its doors -- but i digress...

anyhow pnj hopped in a taxi wearing her giant black hairy hat (it is quite cold after all). the cabbie enquired as to whether pinkynicejuice had ever been to siberia. when i replied in the negative, he informed me that he had spent seven years there, and that hats like mine were all the rage there. in fact, this weather in new york was like spring to him -- we new yorkers are just a bunch of pussies to him -- now siberia, that was cold. pnj was gratified to establish that this time was spent as a professional musician playing in a bar there and not in some gulag. anyhow it turns out that this guy only misses two things from his homeland: his friends, and the sandwiches. apparently there you can get an amazing butter and caviar sandwich, and there is nothing else that can really compare.

though we were only on a thirty block ride, pinkynicejuice and her cab driver were also able to establish that they share the same ancestral home of Minsk, and that one can make a great deal of money carrying cans of caviar back home to nyc after visiting one's friends in Moscow. and also that his mother and grandmother had baked matzoh in the dead of night each year at passover hiding from the secret police, while my family bought theirs at stop and shop.

16/1/03

together at last!

pinky nice juice just discovered the joy of combining two of her favorite past times! eating peanut m&ms and shouting at the pundits on CNN.

13/01/03

Shania Twain or Faith Hill?

it is with great trepidation that pinkynicejuice, begins her day. i woke this morning with some horrifying female western (i wont denigrate the realm of country which i deeply admire with this taint) song about "passionate kisses" running an endless loop in my head. it is like being trapped in a sartre-esque shopping mall from which there is no exit. hopefully pnj's forthcoming trip to the doctor will not produce similar sensations of irritation and futility -- though pinkynicejuice fears that nothing good can come from a day that begins with shania (or faith)...

9/1/03

panda pushcarts

what if new york had a sizeable panda bear population? in fact, what if all the pushcart vendors were panda bears wearing little change aprons. they could just sit there and eat bamboo and do somersaults and then when people came by give em a dog with mustard and onions, or a good humor bar. i bet if that happened that new york would be famous for panda pushcarts and it would be featured in all the travel magazines. i think it would really make things much more fun, and give the city an adorable quality that it currently lacks.

in fact, speaking of pandas -- i saw a photograph in a magazine the other day (was it the NYTimes mag??) of a researcher who works at a panda research station in china. i guess there is a problem with low fertility among pandas -- especially those in captivity, and so this fancy chinese scientist was showing the caged panda a video of pandas having sex -- panda porn if you will. to show him how it's done. does anyone besides pinky nice juice think that is a bit bizarre?

7/1/03

tommorrow is a big day for your friend, pnj. tommorrow is the day that i leave behind all the frightening, disorganized, juvenile mess of my lifestyle and become one of the professional, efficient, pleasant people who doesn't have to wake up at 3 am worrying about where i put that paper my student gave me to read. tommorrow -- a PROFESSIONAL lady -- my utterly fabulous sister-in-law is going to come and create order out of the chaos of my paper-based life.

7/1/03

pinky nice juice is terribly disappointed in whoever recently received an original, hand knit, ***more than donuts*** scarf for the holidays and somehow failed to grasp the serious value of such a gift. the hours of work and thought, the creativity -- and for you the lucky recipient -- the utter fabulousness of knowing that you are the only one in all of new york sporting such a creation... get it together girl. get a grip.

7/1/03

yesterday pinkynicejuice wore her suit. this is never a good sign. really the best times in life are not spent while wearing a suit. (this of course is one of the fatal flaws (and dangerous warning signs) of weddings and bar mitzvahs and the like). pinky nice juice used to think it might be fun -- like being in a play or something, but actually it is more like being a poser for the day. i would note, however, that the jacket with pockets is extremely handy.

4/1/03

the diamond ring thing

today i went to buy wooly tights at the snotty rich chick's store in the hood --convenient -- and pinky nice juice is on her way to Chicago later this week and is sure to need all things wooly. there was a rather elaborate ritual going on in the middle of the store between the forty something lady with the ultra short chic haircut who owns the place and one of the regulars who, having gotten engaged last night, was now sporting half the total annual diamond export tonnage from Botswana (or more likely Congo)on her ring finger. gross.

note: while pinky nice juice is deeply respectful of the importance of the diamond economy to both Botswana and Nambia, she dislikes stupid, shallow, shrieking women. buy the diamond -- and shut up about it already.

31/12/02

trade offs

its lots of fun to give pokey a rawhide bone. she will take it and "bury" it all over the apartment. You will find it under your cushion on the couch in the morning, lying on your pillow at night, beneath your desk the next day, on her dog bed that afternoon. and if you pick it up and move it somewhere -- say OFF your pillow and onto her bed, she will get really annoyed and look at you with the kind of extreme suspicion that makes you suddenly aware of and mildly nervous about the bizarre nature of interspecial (or is it multispecial?) living. and then one day, seemingly at random she will begin to chew, and will lay there and dismember the thing until after several hours it is gone. but then the next day -- well then you feel a little guilty, because pokey wakes up constipated...

mitten miracles

a few weeks back pinkynicejuice celebrated the anniversary of her birth in grand style with the purchase of a pair of overpriced mittens with felt dog faces hand appliqued upon them (and a big shout out to mom who subsidised this extravagance with a generous birthday check). they really are the most fabulous mittens - and somewhat the envy of certain small children i know. anyhow last thursday, somehow i managed to lose one of them while walking pokey. this of course, sunk pinky nice juice into deep despair, reminding her (yet again) that she is simply too irresponsible to deserve something as truly special as a pair of dog mittens... but wait. this afternoon as pnj rounded the corner of her very own block, she spotted something lying there in the middle of the sidewalk -- smiling up at her. oh my goodness, my dog mitten was apparently trying to make its way home and somehow we met up only a half a block from the house (a half a block pnj had traversed at least a dozen times since that mitten went missing). somehow this reminds me of that book where the dog and cat walk hundreds of miles to get home and rejoin their family. a mitten miracle.

the man with the plastic hair

so pinky nice juice just had opportunity to watch trent lott's apology speech in its entirety. i believe i can sum it up quite easily for those of you who did not catch it. it went something like this --- it is ok that i, trent lott, am a mean spirited racist f-cker because i am a devout christian. pinky nice juice hopes very much that they send his plastic haired self packing. can you say newt gingrich??

13/12/02

on a day when the cardinal is forced out by the congregants and two guys punch moby in the face, pinky nice juice is proud to announce that she is from boston

13/12/02

dog noses they're long and their wet

dog noses they belong to your pet

dog noses digging in the snow

dog noses where did that dog pee go?

11/12/02

so it turns out that my plagarizer has decided to dazzle the dean and myself with several interrelated and truly fabulous aspects of his situation, which you will see below clarify the plagarism matter entirely. as it turns out, he was identified as a gifted child at the age of five. (and as with so many gifted children) this it seems is a tragically burdensome responsibility. in fact, he reads books and the internet and "cliff notes" and retains entire paragraphs of information, worded exactly as in the original. this, it turns out is terribly confusing as occasionally he forgets which ideas are his own and which he read somewhere and where. also, he gave the paper to his sister to "fancy up" while he did her chemistry homework, because she is really stupid and doesn't know anything except about fashion and shopping, and so she added four pages of plagarzied text into the paper, which he then inadvertantly and in a rush decided to add footenotes to, citing pinky nice juice's in class lectures as the source of the information, but never suspecting for a moment that the four pages his sister added were plagarized -- though in retrospect this was foolish of him, because his sister is too stupid to write anything except about fashion and shopping. you will not be surprised to hear that currently, he is not speaking to his sister.

10/12/02

well it's incredibly cold today -- forcing pinky nice juice to put on her pants over her flannel pajamas in order to brave the outdoors for pokey's morning ablutions. while initially this fashion inovation required a bit of struggle, after settling in it now turns out to be insanely comfortable and gives one something of a secret identity (guess what -- i am still wearing my pajamas...) i just might proceed to work this way...

this also reminds me of a rather bizarre event from second grade in which joey kelleher (who lived only three doors down from school) arrived one day looking a little odd. i distincly remember that his fly was in the back and the back pockets of his green toughskins with white stitching were in the front. joey it seems, had somehow managed to put his pants on backwards. about twenty minutes or so later, joey's mother appeared out of nowhere and turned his pants around.

4/12/02

stuffing

thatcher's mother makes the world's best stuffing. period. so if you think your stuffing rules -- forget it. i don't care if it has oysters or some other gross and inappropriate item that is oh so faux fancy. it could at best be a pale imitation. pinky nice juice knows -- she has had the world's best, and tommorrow she will have it again!!!!!!!!!!! ha!

27/11/02

the pathological, habitual, never-ending plagarizer

ah -- well, he is at it again. remember my charming student from a previous blog who saw fit to copy large sections of his paper wholesale from the web earlier in the semester. the same student who received an F on that paper and a warning that a repeat performance would result in failure of the class and a trip to the Dean's office? the same student who then asked if he could rewrite his F paper for a higher grade? the same student who yesterday asked me to let him into my already full class for next semester because he is really interested in the material. well somehow -- despite all of this mr. cheater (who i learn is a construction engineering major -- not a management major)has persisted in testing pinkynicejuice. this time of course with a clever twist. mr. cheater has again cut and pasted large sections (paragraphs) of text from the web, and then he has cleverly cited prof.p.n.juice and her lecture on the subject as the source of the material. no matter that the ideas attributed to me contain facts of which i was entirely unaware. if one is to steal, probably best not to pretend that one's stolen goods were actually borrowed from the police. surely you, blog reader that you are, realize that this is utter folly, some narcissistic, bizarre, pathological obsession with cheating and risk. who does this guy think he is? ted kennedy? no he is not -- and so pinkynicejuice will now have to turn him into the dean at sexist tech...this promises to be highly instructive...more to follow

26/11/02

pinkynicejuice confesses to the annoying habit of reading over the shoulder of the person sitting next to her. while this is indeed annoying, i do at times find it irresistable, and further, i find that one can learn many interesting things in this manner. today on the subway i was seated next to a woman in her late forties who was writing a To Do List. below are the top three entries on the list (pinkynicejuice cannot remember the entire list which went up to line 28 -- clearly this woman had many tasks to accomplish -- but you will get the gist of the myriad pressing things left undone by the following)

1. work hard

2. get rectal temp

3. replace glass

(pnj assumes the abbreviation in item 2 denotes temperature -- and not temporary help)

26/11/02

thatcher tells me that there is a big debate in the computer game programmer community about the need to develop a "specialized language" for game design so that computer games can be taken seriously as an art form...pinkynicejuice thinks this is a splendid idea -- yes the language of computer game programming is surely far too accessible to the masses. in fact i, like many others no doubt, often find myself sitting down and just writing a post to some computer game developer listserv on the finer points of textture mapping...and it is precisely because of that accessibility that i simply cannot take computer games seriously as an art form... (well except ms packman)

23/11/02

pokeythedog is going back on monday for a SECOND interview at the local doggie day care facility. as you can imagine we are all a bit nervous...

23/11/02

yesterday pinkynicejuice went to a fancy reception for a visiting scholar. free food, free libation, free edification, and apparently for a certain older ukranian gentleman in my department -- free chance to try and feel up the younger women professors! as you might imagine -- pinkynicejuice was terribly flattered to be the object of such affections. in fact, pinkynicejuice was almost forced to brawl with one of her fellow women co-workers over who exactly would be literally pinned up against the wall by said closetalking, closetouching, individual -- as he regaled me with tales of his horseback riding heroics as a young lad during world war II. as it turns out --sarcasm does not appear an adequate defense in such situations. i fear that pinkynicejuice must soon begin packing pepper spray at academic events...

19/11/02

a lesson in strategy from the new york knicks-

it matters not whether you lead in the third quarter. nor does it matter if you lead for most of the game. what really counts is that you blow it at the end and play like a bunch of overpaid, tired, desperate losers in the fourth quarter so that you can make sure and seal the loss each and every time.

in order to accomplish this:

trade a dynamic point guard (chris childs) and keep the one who tries to make the impossible dream shot rather than setting up the team one out of two times he gets the ball.

get a great center. make sure he is injured most of the time. trade him for a great center who is injured most of the time.

make a public stink about the only person on the team who consistently plays hard in each and every game. who doesn't talk trash about other players or the coach. try to alienate him as much as possible by separating him from the team.

pay a ridiculous amount of money to some pansy-ass pretty boy shooting guard who is afraid to ever get in the paint.

do all of this as soon as pinkynicejuice moves from boston to new york...

17/11/02

the committee meeting

well the aforementioned amniotic bubble (see blog below) burst rather abruptly upon my return to my university -- which i will call -- Sexist Tech for short. pinkynicejuice was recently nominated to the committee on women. (it has some acronym whose exact meaning i have forgotten). of course, i had no knowledge of my responsibilities to begin work with the committee, as Sexist Tech doesn't believe in informing people of their responsibilities or rewards, nor does it believe in collegiality -- if things get too social the engineers and math types begin to feel powerfully uncomfortable. instead one is more likely to receive an email about a previous meeting one has missed, and requesting that you begin attending these meetings at once. though working on academic committees generally sucks -- pinky nice juice breathed a deep sigh of relief to find that she was a recalcitrant member of the women's committee. after all, one must be on many committees, and at least if we were all women in the room that left less space for the other potential candidates, including the often ascot wearing (no i am not kidding -- ascot wearing), greasy lecherous, patronizing, innuendo wielding, dismissive, or other pathological elements that rule the roost at Sexist Tech.

one of our goals was to improve the child care arrangement at the school -- which is bad beyond belief. pinky nice juice could get behind that -- finally something good was in the works at Sexist Tech. well someone made the suggestion that we do an email survey to evaluate the demand and the priorities for these services among students and faculty. as it turns out this is not possible. in fact, in order to do such a survey we will need to have it undergo a review by the human subjects review board of Sexist Tech, to make sure that receiving an email questionnaire for which you are not compelled to respond, about whether you want to use day care and how much you can afford to pay for it, doesn't endanger email recipients in any way, nor does it infringe on their rights and dignity as people with email accounts. as it turns out, the women's committee has been down this road before. the review board does not like the idea of such a survey. thank goodness someone is looking out for the dignity and rights of people who dont want to receive an email from their employer/school asking their opinions on child care.

things brightened up a bit -- when we turned to the matter of "fundraising". yes it appears that in order to represent women's interests at Sexist Tech one must have a bake sale. as it turns out this year it will actually be a "treasure hunt" -- but you get the point.

11/11/02

pinkynicejuice just returned from an academic conference. you know, upon occasion it is great fun to just fly your geek flag with ultimate freedom, and to be suspended in some bizarre amniotic bubble in which one can intermingle with fellow nerds and observe the incredible social spectacle of the tribal meeting. lumpers, splitters, leaders, followers, kin, agemates, elders, and strangers, mavericks, deviants, big thinkers,small-minded bores, meticulous artisans,posers, and the real thing all mingling together and reacting to each other and avoiding one another and configuring ourselves into some semblance of order. a beautiful mess.

10/11/02

last night pinkynicejuice and her man attended a seriously posh housewarming party of an old college friend in a loft in soho. not only was the living room larger than our entire apartment, it was full of fancy people from the investment banking industry. there were some incredible outfits on display -- including a woman who was wearing seriously expensive black pants and a brown fur and leather vest as a shirt -- she looked like an incredibly wealthy version of captain caveman. and another chick in a thousand dollar butt-thong prominently displayed on her backside, her pants being so low that we essentially had little choice but to look her lace flossed ass straight in the eye (and a big menudo style shout out to my girlfriend audrey with whom I was enjoying watching smarmy, wealthy, middle-aged banker men line up to not so subtly ogle the thong) pinkynicejuice -- not having fully grasped the formality of the event, despite having received an engraved invitation, rolled up in jeans and a woodstock (the little yellow bird who was snoopy's buddy) sweatshirt. oops.

3/11/02

those of you who know me we will surprised and disappointed to hear that i will NOT be running in the marathon this weekend. so don't even bother looking for me in the lead pack.

1/11/02

can anyone explain the ridiculous logic behind the f-ing V train? pinky nice juice thinks not. yet every wednesday evening around 9:30 pm at the end of a fifteen hour day, pinky nice juice and the other suckers on the west 4th street F train platform stand patiently, waiting for the pokey little F train to carry us home. everyone is tired and quiet, until we hear the train coming. yes, here it is, at long last we are going home -- we are going to eat our dinner and pet our dogs!! -- that is until it rounds the corner and we all realize at once that we've been screwed again, and of course we are all a bit embarassed to have fallen for it yet again -- all at once a rather loud chorus of voices can be heard from across the cultural and age based spectrum of brooklynites on the platform-- as we all exclaim/mutter simultaneously -- "Fucking V train". this week someone spit at it.

1/11/02

Jam Master Jay... what can I say? Why do people suck so bad?

31/10/02

today pokey and i saw a most excellent thing. a parked truck from "Nick's Royal Flush Plumbing and Healting". well the pun is of course incredible and pinky nice juice was gratified to see both meanings displayed -- on one side of the truck was a nice painting of a monkey wrench holding a royal flush (diamonds)of playing cards. on the other side was a fabulous painting of some aging monarch, complete with golden crown, pants down sitting on the can.

23/10/02

two nights ago as i rode the half empty train home some peculiar things happened. first we stopped midway up the platform of a station. then the conductor got out (pinky nice juice was in the very first car) opened the front door of the train -- yes, it turns out they have front doors, jumped down onto the track and moved something. then she climbed back in, closed the door and pulled the rest of the way into the station. that's not all. it was like the lion the witch and the wardrobe or something. when she opened that door on the nose of the train, a door which had always been there, though no one ever thought to look, it was as if we entered into a magic world that looked quite similar to the everyday world, and yet shockingly different. the middle eastern men next to me, one of whom was in coveralls coming from work and the other in a leather jacket and acid wash pants, started sharing a small tub of handcream. pinky nice juice swears that they were total strangers up to this point. one just started putting on handcream and then he offered it to the man next to him and he took it and used it. and then afterwards he was gently sniffing his own hand. the seventy year old white haired man across from me, opened up a bag and started offering sandwiches to the supremely hot puerto rican girl and equally hot auto mechanic guy who were sitting to his right. they took them and started to eat them. i mean we were only stopped for a few minutes max and everybody starts acting like we live in mayberry?

18/10/02

here are the specials on offer at Donut House on Court Street -- conveniently located next to the Off Track Betting.

corned beef and cabbage

corned beef soup

corned beef sandwich

corned beef platter

Ah, Donut House -- apparently not just for donuts anymore.

17/10/02

yesterday on cnn with "wolf" blitzer (can this possibly be his name -- or did they assign it to him in hopes it would make him seem taller on camera?) i saw a poll. viewers were asked to call in and "vote" -- do you think the sniper is working alone -- or with a partner? that seems like a good idea -- the news should be more "interactive". i am not going to sit on my ass anymore and watch this sniper wreak havoc on the d.c. area -- i am going to get involved and vote. maybe a little democracy can solve the case.... wtf????

15/10/02

yesterday i graded papers. of course there was the inevitable student who despite all warnings on the syllabus and in class to the contrary persists in thinking that pinkynicejuice is too dense to discern the subtle differences between a paper written by a professional historian and one written by some bozo management major in his sophmore year of college. i know, it is a tad insulting. these students inevitably also think that pinkynicejuice and her kind haven't yet heard of the world wide web and don't know how to search it... inter-what? internut? oh -- interNET. c'mon. so i obligingly pointed out the paper's source and duly doled out an F and a little advice about the future. some thieves do in fact feel a twang of remorse or shame at this juncture, but not this one, who approached me after class to ask if he couldn't now rewrite the assignment for a better grade. is that what "management" is all about?

14/10/02

i have been so busy this week that there hasn't been much time for blogging. tuesday i was in a meeting with colleagues to discuss several new themes in the social sciences -- very academicky kind of thing with many concepts and the names of several european philosophers being bandied about. well of course i got a little overly enthusiastic and used the global market in carved dildos (for the aids prevention industry -- a fact i may have neglected to mention) as my example. (pinkynicejuice was in the room when people put two and two together and discovered such a market exists and so still feels kind of connected to the whole thing as you can imagine.). as it turns out, news of this emerging market is actually a conversation stopper.

10/10/02

do you ever think when you are sitting on the phone working your way through a maddening cycle of recorded messages and menus of options that lead to other recordings -- do you ever think that maybe this is a sign of the end of american civilization -- that we americans driven by the bottom line and strange notions of "efficiency" have so radically depersonalized our world that it may just collapse in on itself at any moment? we may just all start shoving old ladies to the ground to get to the front of the line, brawling over discount underpants, or start rubbing up against each other on the subway in some sort of quest for human contact, is this somehow connected to jerry springer? well pinkynicejuice has a news flash for you. it's not just america, or even "the west". we are not even the best at this particular form of technological passive aggression. i just spent a considerable amount of time navigating the phone menu at the chinese consulate of san franscisco. the best piece of guidance i got was at the end of a long tree of options i had traversed with my touch tone key pad -- a lovely recorded woman told me to visit the consultate web site. i did. the consulate web site told me in no uncertain terms never to call and bother the people at the consulate with my query. o.k. then.

7/10/02

tonight for dinner i am going to make an egg-salad sandwich on multi-grain bread with watercress, tomato, and bacon. i am so psyched about it i think i am going to plotz.

6/10/02

last night, after working all day and into the evening, i decided i needed to get a life and head out. well, being an insane geek these days, and having a hard time remembering what it is i like to do aside from work (could the knicks please start already?? -- and kurt thomas -- wtf????) i headed out for st. mark's bookstore in the east village, which my friends nick and jen turned me on to when they were visiting last spring. it is an amazing bookstore and i highly recommend it, especially if you are into social theory. anyhow, i have this wonderful grant right now where i get to buy 2k worth of books, which is a lot of books, and it kind of turns shopping into this ** the price is right ** phenomenon. (which reminds me that i learned last week on E entertainment television that bob barker, that sly silver fox with the amazingly slender microphone, is a massive dick. even though he is into spaying cats and all, i really wouldn't trust him. he has really screwed over some of "barker's beauties" as he likes to refer to the model's on the show. there are a gazillion law suits going on with it all even as we speak). Well, it was a very good time, and I managed finally to find a book that my friend Laura recommended called, The No.1 Ladies Detective Agency, which is about a lady-detective in Botswana, and is supposed to be amazing. (having read the first fifteen pages on the subway home, I can say that I have very high hopes). there were a lot of people in the bookstore, which made me feel better about being such a saturday night bookshopping loser, including a supremely glamorous and hip couple that was reading this illustrated history of pornography. no one seemed to be reading either of the two books about shit that were out on display. i wonder if people only order those by mail? then again that could get you on some strange mailing lists....

that is all. i have no point, but it's my blog and i don't have to.

6/10/02

kristen is right -- these dogless days are indeed desparate.

3/10/02

to whoever called my machine and left a message in setswana -- you didn't leave your name or number. is it you, morgan freeman?

3/10/02

today was only the second time that Jo (a psuedonym, it actually stands for jerk off) decided to attend class. beforehand he showed up at my office wearing headphones and a kind of dazed look and asked me -- where the class met (we are a third of the way into the semester)and so how much of the book should we read? (we don't have a book -- only a series of articles) i refamilarized Jo with the syllabus and the fact that he was over 400 pages behind in the reading, reminding him that in fact, he had a paper due today. he didn't seem concerned. i also told him the location of the class. this turned out to be a mistake. he found it alright, headphones and sunglasses on, music blaring, and sat at the back of the room. then for the next two hours he proceeded to be the biggest dick on the planet. at one point he stepped out in the middle of class --only to return 10 minutes later can of soda in hand and i do believe baked to the b'jeezus. by the end of class when all 30 of us were forced to listen to jerk off's -- i mean Jo's -- creative diatribe on why he hates getting bitten by mosquitos, pinkynicejuice was forced to engage Jo in a little battle of the wits -- yes pinkynicejuice can be far more sarcastic than even the most obnoxious of 20 year olds -- and as with the Beave's mother in that scene in Airplane -- in an emergency -- i can "speak jive". clearly this is penance for some long forgotten misdeed i committed back in my youth. make it stop.

3/10/02

today in class i taught my students all about the "fecal-oral route". it's actually quite important in public health.

30/9/02

there are a lot of very very cool dogs in brooklyn -- i mean a lot. bristly ones, and short ones, and some that ride around in the pocketbooks of super models, and wolfhounds, and fluffily ones, and tripod ones, and bad-ass ones, and even dogs that wear track suits and some are really mean and some are really nice and some are really glamorous, and they are ALL so incredibly fabulous.

brooklyn dog haiku:

what happened to Ed?
is that a muzzle?
did he bite somebody? oops

poo on the sidewalk
don't you look at me that way
pokey don't play that

lightening fast frank
snags pizza slice from gutter
yummy yummy yum

27/9/02

yesterday i went to the chinese consulate to "authenticate" our adoption papers --that's right -- pinkynicejuice is going to be a mommy. don't get too excited, it's still more than a year away.... anyhow it was a good walk over there, since you get to walk up 42nd street past the stables where they keep the police horses, to the very edge of manhattan -- 12th avenue -- from where you can see the boats and the water and it all suddenly seems different. on the way back i took a stroll through hell's kitchen and times square, had an awesome cuban sandwich and slice of coconut cake and then hopped on the train for home. i absolutely love new york.

27/9/02

attention network executives -- bring back **battle of the network stars** -- complete with tug-o-war, obstacle course, and simon says competition ---- let's see the cast of "7th heaven" take on "the hughley's"

27/9/02

do you have cable tv? if so then do yourself a favor, check out an E entertainment channel interview by "jules asner". they actually found someone so vapid that the celebrities seem really smart. in fact, when you watch an E entertainment channel interview by jules asner, you begin to feel like you are really in there with the star, you and gwynneth paltrow might actually have some kind of connection, you two have a little secret. now you might otherwise feel pretty snobbily towards someone like gwynneth paltrow -- why on earth would you want to hang out with her? but as you watch the interview you begin to think it actually might be kind of fun, you know what you would talk about --you both want to know --what's the deal with "jules"?

26/9/24

here are some people i miss:

r.i.p.

matthew cohn sheilah pule norah folkenflick

25/9/02

you might give some thought to the plan the cdc has come out with in the event of a smallpox outbreak/bioterrorism. Fortyeight pages of guidelines for the states to work out. Like the states have any money, or any public health capacity -- we privatized all that long ago. Yeah, the state of Louisiana is suddenly going to be able to vaccinate millions of people in ten days? I'm not saying that we are going to have a smallpox outbreak, but i am saying that this is kind of lame.

25/9/02

thanks to everyone who wrote me with the correct spelling for Sisqo.

24/9/02

the faculty meeting:

have you ever been to one? it would be pretty hysterical and all if it weren't really happening and this wasn't really how things got done.

sometimes i work in botswana -- a totally fabulous place -- and a big shout out to bo-ausi tota!! (all my ladies back in bots and you too steph). anyhow there i often attend bureaucratic meetings where people are very concerned with who speaks in what order and who gets a bowl of salty crax in front of them and who doesn't (have you had salty crax? well they are this very tasty cracker named after a sailor's ass that are quite popular there). and i often would sit at a meeting and think to myself you know, these guys with all their etiquette and rules and precedents and shit, its all just bogging them down. thank god i am from america, where we are all just a bunch of regular joes and shit it really going on (i know, but unfortunately these are the kind of self-congratulatory and misguided thoughts that american me sometimes has when i am far from home and feeling self indulgent, and my tswana friends put up with it because they are polite and good with children and because they realize that this kind of arrogance is usuall followed by a good bout of cultural self loathing). Well pride goeth before a fall and all that. If only we could have our meetings Tswana style, with salty crax and lemon creams and simba chips and fabulous hairdos and ululating where appropriate and perhaps a musical interlude...

apparently there's this thing called Robert's Rules of Order -- and if you weren't in "the model UN" back in high school or like me were back in bed with a bong hit and a drake's crumb cake the day they went over that one, well then you are about to be outmanouevered by some dandruffy old fart with food on his tie. the faculty meeting: where the small-minded prevail.

a very brief excerpt from the very long faculty meeting in which three faculty members put their respective phd's to good use in discussing a catalogue blurb (distortions of memory possible -- but not likely -- you really can't make this shit up)

"Uh no, I object to the use of the word 'recommended', it is all wrong, it should certainly be replaced with 'encouraged'."

"Well 'encouraged' is so weak, we may as well take the line out altogether."

"What do you mean get rid of 'recommended'? We discussed this at the last meeting -- its right here in the minutes. We certainly need to keep the word 'recommended', I mean how can we possibly be educating our students properly if we are only 'encouraging' and not 'recommending'." .....

what would happen right now if i stood up and started break dancing?

23/9/02

much to my surprise mrs. li from li's dry cleaners called me on the phone the other day. she's really nice, and later when i went in there, she told me that i was a good girl. so i have decided to use this blog to do a little advertising for mrs. li to reward her for being such a good judge of character. if you live in carroll gardens then go see mrs. li at li's dry cleaners on the corner of sacket and henry for all your laundering and tailoring needs.

21/9/02

today eliot and k-dunk moved to my neighborhood. yippee -- neighbors.

21/9/02

I've had a really long day. If you know me you will be shocked to hear that it is 10:45 pm and i am still awake. Well, I just got home from work and am currently relaxing with a mint-chocolate chip "tofutti cutie". Its like an icecream sandwich with a hint of a toothpaste quality, but in a good way -- and it is, in fact, adorable -- a real "cutie". Anyhow, I miss my dog. So here is a little song I like to sing to her -- this one's for you -- Poke....

(to a tune I know)

Dog noses,they're really really long
Dog noses, the subject of this song
Dog noses they like to sniff around
Dog noses they're all over this town

sniff sniff sniff
sniff sniff sniff
sniff sniff sniff sniff sniff
(repeat)

Dog noses they love to sniff the grass
Dog noses, they prefer to sniff dog ass
Dog noses, sticking in the air
Dog noses, love them if you dare

18/9/02

Thoughts while riding the A Train....

I'm not Sisqo, I don't want to see your thong.

17/9/02

Today in class I said "pissing in the streets". My students found this quite tittilating.

16/9/02

sometimes i wish i was pokeythedog. then when someone was mean to me i could pee on their carpet, or lie on the couch, chew on my bone for hours, and pretend it was their head.

15/9/02

How often do you clean your toaster oven? Maybe you never clean it, just let it all build up until the thing breaks....That was my plan, but for some reason just now three years into the project, I got the brilliant idea to really clean it. (these are the flashes of brilliance that come from working at home) I don't recommend it.

13/9/02

Note: I have decided to use the European date system (day,month,year) for my blogs -- since I think it really adds some class.

hazel displaying one of the many peanutty delights of her native land.

and this, folks, pnj so deeply hopes, is the last time that pnj will feel the urge to display photos of her child on her otherwise terribly cynical and at times meanspirited website. clearly this is no place for children.

hazel's first jewmas (and a big shout out to my equally confused cousin paul who led me to the jewmas website -- links provided on pnj's homepage)

as you can see she was a bit confused by the whole jewish christmas thing - but notice how well pokey has caught on to the multiple identity backbends and now enjoys mugging for a jewmas family photo-- so there is hope.

your close friend and ally, pinky nice juice, has been up since 3.30 this am, when i was awoken by the shockingly loud thud of thatcher falling out of bed. oops. pokey, for her part, slept through the whole affair.

how have i used these three precious hours of time, up alone at night? (and yes, alone really, despite my location here in the epicenter of the naked city, because although nyc is purportedly the city that never sleeps, pnj thinks that is a misnomer - or perhaps that was nyc before rudy giuliani turned it into a giant f-ing shopping mall, is pnj the only one out there who enjoys a little seediness??? - anyhow nowadays they all go to sleep eventually. if you want to stay up all night, better that you head to spain, i think). how have i spent this time? (i ask again). sewing the zipper into that cute little hooded sweater i made? reading the book i am supposed to review (said review already being a month late)? watching inspector morse on television? NO! pnj has been eating cookies, drinking coffee, and reflecting on the horrifying phenomenon of recent times that we call "Celebrity Chefs!"

celebrity chefs is a ridiculous and irritating concept. like when you buy that "wolfgang puck" frozen pizza he actually made it or even made the recipe? and like we care what your name is and like we think it matters what you look like (the iron chefs, of course, go by cuisine and are legitimate celebrities because they actually compete with one another-- and of course, pnj is willing to make the occasional exception for someone with a good show on pbs -- like lydia bastianich, and that jamie oliver is cute -- but the lisping british accent bucgs the crap out of me, and he has a tad too much energy, i think.) the worst of course is todd english (though that idiot emiril is enough to make pnj turn off the tv -- and few things have the power to do that). what a complete putz. (have you ever noticed that he looks exactly like that obnoxious "presidential historian" michael beschloss? the most boring man on the planet, and wearing the same heavy layer of makeup as well, pnj might add).

basically (and pnj bases this on her many years experience as a waitress) celebrity chefs is a way for totally over-testosterone temper-tantrum prone insecure macho big boys who are going through mid-life crises and work in kitchens to get some. kind of like how regular celebrities is a way for totally over-testosterone temper-tantrum prone insecure drama club types who work "in film" and are going through mid-life crises (like "sly" stallone) to get some. and what about the ladies? well what about the ladies? what on earth is up with that weird british chick in the tight sweater surrounded by soft lighting, nigella? the one who takes little teeny bites out of her food in all her photos and on her show? is that really the feminine version of NIGEL? nigella? it sounds like barbarella.

anyhow pnj ain't buying it.

30/12/03

ok so pnj is completely obsessed with the lord of the rings -- having now seen the fellowship of the ring on video. my favorite part is how thousands of years pass and its always super medieval, oh and the leader of the dwarves who has a heavy scottish accent and a read beard that he wears in braids. and the hobbits are really mini and fun. and yet there is a part of me that worries a bit -- what if when i watch the next movie (the two towers) pnj gets even farther into it. i mean how does someone become super goth and into fantasy and all that? surely it starts small, maybe with an innocent little copy of the hobbit, a gift from your aunt on your twelth birthday or something, then before you know it pnj is out there blogging in elvish and redecorating her apartment in a unicorn motif. then again unicorns never hurt anyone. unlike some evil wizards we know...

hazel and paris

ok -- so pnj is now back from a long hiatus. indeed she has travelled all the way to asia and back. she has sampled the korean twinkie (called the "creamy"), and also had the chinese version of pringles (called "rounds" and available in "excitable baby flavor"). she has been serenaded by a young man from hunan singing john denver's "country roads" over the microphone on the bus. she has viewed the larger than life amazingly photographic embroidery of chairman mao. and she has gotten hazel -- who turns out to be a most fabulous and utterly adorable person. at first pnj was concerned that hazel might be mentally impaired, retarded if you will. not that pnj would love her any less, as i said already she is beyond fabulous and clearly has a lot to offer as a person-- just that this is the sort of thing that a parent should be aware of --but then thatcher assured me that this she is actually quite an ordinary baby, its just that babies are in fact, total dumbasses. adorable, lovable, indeed waited on hand and foot,and continually feted with gifts, subject to all manner of photographic insult -- both invited and not, a tad whiny at times, but easily distracted from their cries by any opportunity to flirt with themselves in the mirror or to inspect their own tiny little incredibly soft feet --, clothed in an overpriced array of at times comical attire, including disposable underpants, and without the slightest inkling of how the world works. in short babies are like paris hilton.

29/12/03

pnj wishes some hobbits would come visit. i would definitely feed them some bacon.

ok here's an important question -- why does the yarn company -- the knitting store on broadway in the upper west side suck so bad? though there are a few really nice women who work there (and some super cute yarn)-- the rest of them pretty much define the word bitssy (that's a combination of bitchy and stressy). its like someone opened a big ol' can of pms in there. now pnj doesn't say this lightly, but she has now been to said store on three separate outings, each spaced a few months apart and it is pretty much the same vibe everytime (well unless pnj goes with louise -- because louise is so truly fabulous and something of a neighborhood rock star type in her own right, so they kind of warm up when they see her). not only are they completely freaking out all the time (and who knows why? i mean its a KNITTING STORE, f-ing relax) but they also treat you like you must be a complete idiot, who couldn't possibly know how to knit -- and yet there you are in a knitting store -- so it would seem obvious that you do in fact know how to knit and even if you didn't perhaps you might not like being talked to in such a patronizing and smarmy manner when you are about to spend close to a hundred bucks for something off a sheep. anyhow today was pnj's last straw -- from now on she will be traveling downtown for all of her knitting supply needs...

truly fabulous -- but little known facts about thatch (if you already knew 6 of the 9 facts below then you are clearly a good friend of thatch, 7 or higher and you are in the thatch posse)

-he is responsible for the return of original scent speedstick deodorant to the american marketplace (now the official deodorant of the nba) and we have the documentation to prove it.

-he is actively promoting al sharpton in the next election

- he doesn't let the fact that he is abnormally tall get in the way of his self-esteem

-he likes butter and he's not afraid to use it.

- when he was in kindergarten he was in a short-lived, but tough street gang in the bucolic new england town of his youth -- they were called THE ALLEY CATS

- he bakes the thatch signature cookies

- tighty-whiteys are his underpants of choice (sorry, pnj knows that this is really none of our collective business, but it is such a fascinating choice that pnj feels compelled to share it)

- yes, he's a little absent minded and gets irritated when you remind him of things that he has clearly forgtotten (like when you are in the car with him and he is driving and you feel the need to point out as you near the verazzano narrows bridge -- of which you are beyond terrified -- that we are in fact, driving to boston, not philadelphia -- forcing him to say, oops -- oh yeah -- alright...)but you are certain that this is because this perpetual state of half sleepiness, like a giant hibernating bear in feetsy-pyjamas, in which he exists is somehow related to why he is so nice

- he HATES microsoft, but essentially works for them and tells himself he doesn't

- he is bonkers for baby animals

3/12/03

cravings for communism and a planned society

ok -- apologies to anyone who is powerfully tired of hearing about pnj's quest for child etc. but frankly that is your own problem, now isn't it. this is my blog and i can write about whatever i choose, and you, dear friend can read about whatever you choose. this is the upside of our democracy here in america. please enjoy it while this is still possible. sigh...somedays pnj fears that serious censorship is just round the corner.

anyhow, its not the censorship about communism and a planned society that pnj craves (that would be totalitarianism and they are different -- no?) -- its the lack of choice. which brings me back to "Buy Buy Baby" (henceforth: BBB) the scariest superstore on earth, to which pnj has now been twice. clearly pnj is still scarred from the experience. this is why. upon entering BBB one immediately realizes that some amorphous "they" has got you by the proverbial huevos (that's apparently a mexican idiom for "balls" -- which is an american idiom for testicles -- one could of course, pursue this on some psycho-anthro level -- why do mexican's employ discursive language that refers to the fragility of testicles, while americans on the otherhand emphasize their bouncy nature?? makes you think, huh...this is no doubt someone's american studies dissertation just waiting to happen) anyhoo -- back to BBB -- your huevos are held by madison avenue and (in a foucauldian sense) society at large (including yourself!!) because apparently as a parent one is supposed to buy the safest, most educational crap for your kid as an expression of love, self-sacrifice (especially for moms), and your command over science (a necessary part of parenting apparently -- because this is an active science project --if you don't believe pnj then go and buy a "baby book" preferably by some dude called brazelton-- and pnj is constantly reminded (by no one more than herself -- remember this is a foucauldian thing -- and pnj is perfectly capable of self-policing)that she as busy reading us magazine and watching kg and spree and the twolves on tv rather than doing her science of parenting homework (an "F" for self-sacrifice already) -- and when pnj is confronted by so many pressing choices around "sippy cups" and little snuggy things and myriad safety mechanisms she longs for communism. pnj just wants to send her babushka to line up all day for the family's allotment of "food", "clothing", and goodness only knows whatelse while pnj trudges off to her job with the Bolshoi Ballet (you didn't think pnj was working on a communal farm somewhere did you?).

26/11/03

*********a song for pokey*********

you're a dog

you're quite a dog

you're so great and you're going far

oh what a dog you are

yes! you're a dog, you're a star!

the above is pnj's new song for pokey -- who has been attending the "vancouver dog school" up here in the hood (there is another dog school up here called the montreal dog school -- pnj, for her part, wants to open the winnepeg dog school or perhaps the saskatoon dog school...) and can now remain in the "down" position for quite some time while waiting for a liversnap. generally pnj does think it has been excellent for pokey's self-esteem -- as evidenced by her dwindling need to hump all the fluffy dogs in the dog park... we are so proud!

here's a little advice -- but pnj doesn't feel like putting it on the advice page -- because to be pnj is to be someone who can take any neat and straightforward and rational system for storage, organization, filing, you name it -- and subvert it completely until it is a mess. anyhow -- here's the advice - next time you have a wicked bad freakdown in the middle of the most obnoxious and terrifying super store of all time ("Buy Buy Baby" on 7th ave) because you are about to be a mother and you now realize that this fact involves making choices about which rectal thermometer to purchase and also because you suddenly realize that everything around you is in either a ducky or tickle me elmo motif- well then pnj suggests that you leave the store immediately and travel to brooklyn for a little brunch and a cocktail with good ol' kdunk over at morethandonuts. she'll set you right.

25/11/03

pnj is losing it.

after a night brimming over with stressy insomnia, pnj decided to skip the hour and 15 minute each way commute for a day of reading microfilm, to stick at home and get organized. some of us are headed to china is one week's time and we are hoping to have shampoo to bring on the trip. so pnj just decided to start things off right, with a plate of bacon and a fried egg and toast --actually a few slices of fried french bread -- because once you are frying, i mean why not? of late pnj has been buying very good bacon (because, surely you agree -- that pnj is worth it) - the thick kind that is not from a factory. i find that this does make a difference. anyhow its the kind of breakfast that is so good and yet at the same time makes pnj feel like she is all messed up with all of her priorities in the wrong place - as surely if she were a sane person she would take the time to have a proper breakfast every morning. in fact, perhaps i should quit my job and spend some time to make the occasional plate of banana waffles and really savor the morning. microfilm is evil.

some days you just love your friends. today is one of those days. i love you friends!!! love, love, love, love you!!!

no, really. fix your hair.

so yesterday pnj went to go and get a set of passport photos taken. of course, pnj already has a fabulous passport (really its that once in a lifetime kind of passport with all manner of stamps and seals in it) but these photos are for my chinese visa for my upcoming trip to china with thatch to pick up little hazel luo ya fang (fill in pnj's surname here -- never you mind what it is -- and do note that hazel shall have pnj's surname and not thatchers, as i won that honor in a heated game of rock-paper-scissors this summer)in only two and a half weeks time. anyhoo, pnj needed passport photos, so she popped round the corner yesterday to the photo shop to have a set taken. nice place, a little store front selling picture frames and film (not one of those very snotty, aren't you an artist or professional photographer? if not what are you doing here kind of photo stores) run by a lively Indian man in his early 50s. it went something like this

photoshop owner (henceforth po) -- can i help you?

pnj - two passport photos please

po - right away! you are going to wear that sweatshirt for your photo? (disapproving tone)

pnj - yes, its just a picture for a chinese visa, i am sure they dont care what i look like.

po - there is a mirror right there. (parental glare)

pnj- thanks, i think i am fine, i'm in a bit of a hurry (thinking to self-- uh -- excuse me -- i am going to china in like two and a half weeks, which means that i have to devote approximately four hours of each day just to sitting in one place and freaking out -- and as it turns out that leaves less time for taking care of such pressing responsibilities as getting passport photos taken and changing out of this sweatshirt, which has been doing me just fine all weekend thankyou very much).

po - well your hair is a mess, please use the mirror.

pnj uses the mirror and gets her look together -- yes, her hair was a mess, but then again, what else is new.

po exasperated leans over and fixes pnj's hair again, and then takes the photo.

apparently some people would have tidiness be a prerequisite for international travel..

16/11/03

pnj must keep it brief - since she must run for the 7.35 express train out of penn station this morning -- but here's a little anecdote that no doubt you all will find highly illuminating -- as it is so emblematic of male behavior.

the microfilm room

yesterday -- as it has been for several days now -- found pnj down in the microfilm room of the library reading old issues of the Botswana Daily News from the early 1970s. (my favorite headline was about how streaking will NOT be tolerated at public events). anyhow, in come these two late 40s/mid 50s professorial types to read some microfilm together (microfilm buddies - how totally cute!). this involved a 45 minute process of trying (loudly) to figure out how to work the microfilm reader. not once -- ever -- did they think of asking pnj for help -- though they took many a surreptitious glance at how my machine was threaded and how pnj was operating the zoom. not once -- ever -- did they consult the librarian whose desk was only inches away. oh no! that would be terribly emasculating and all -- after all this is a machine and they are men -- not just any old wussy machine either -- a MICROFILM machine -- microfilm -- like spies make and exchange and risk their lives over -- MICROFILM a mainstay of cold war movies (no matter that they were just trying to read some old newspaper from the turn of the century)and all that.

well -- macho professor men from the microfilm room, if you are reading this -- get the f- over it! and shut up while you are at it. ask for help, learn to thread your machine and then QUIETLY (it is a library after all) read your stupid microfilm -- some of us are trying to learn about an episode in which 20 naked men streaked through a garden party outside Gaborone, and how this type of behavior will no longer be tolerated.

13/11/03

ok -- pnj has missed you all terribly. this is just a segway blog to generate some distance on my screen from the blog below -- a blog that carries some sad memories of an event that made this here bostonian a little testy (do you think that word comes from "testes" ?)at her fellow new yorkers

Let's see. I believe that makes it Red Sox 1 and High-priced Pinstripe Wearing Pretty Boys -- ZERO!!!

when rich people yell...

let pinkynicejuice tell you -- it isn't pretty. pnj and pokey saw two wealthy people going at it on west end avenue this evening over a disputed parking space, and not only were potty-mouth epithets hurling about, but one gentleman had achieved a level of shrillness in his tone and style of personal comportment that well, lets just say i think pokey was a bit confused over just who was blowing the emergency high frequency dog whistle, and why...

7/10/03

tigers revenge

well pnj must point out the coincidence that not only was "roy" of "sigfried and roy" fame attacked by one of "his" tigers the other day, but yesterday police were called to an upper floor apartment on adam clayton powell in harlem to subdue another white tiger that had bit its captor. pnj is going to try to draw a simple lesson for you all so listen closely...tigers, as it turns out, are wild animals, not housepets, nor vegas show-cats. tigers appear to be staging a rebellion - - so the rest of you tiger owners (that includes you -- "sigfried"!), give it up now before we wind up with some sort of planet-of-the-apes (only with tigers) type scenario...

5/10/03

well its not all sun and roses after all...pnj is co-teaching a new class this semester (along with a fabulous colleague) on the history of sex and sexuality. fun graduate students, lots of good reading, its all so wonderful! but -- as is always the case in this life -- there is the inevitable down side... it turns out that the men who ride the commuter trains with pnj seem to think that reading about the history of sex suggests that one just might be interested in having sex with them (one of course must admire this highly narcissistic and frankly counter-intuitive logic). here is pretty much how it goes...

(mushy-red-head-guy -- henceforth mrhg): what are you reading?
pnj: ... (this is the sound of pnj pretending that she hasn't heard)
mrhg: (a bit louder) hey, what are you reading?
pnj: (still silent tilts book cover so that mushy-red-head guy can see cover he has already seen while she was reading)
mrhg: "making sex" huh? is that what they are teaching you at big state u? (pnj had just gotten on at big state u.'s stop)
pnj: i'm a professor, i teach it.
mrhg: you must be fun at a party! (icky look crosses over his mushy face) where are you headed?
pnj: to the next train car...

(aging frat boy in big pants: henceforth afbbp): (leans across aisle) hey -- what are you reading, "the history of sex"?
pnj: (silently shows cover of the history of sexuality volume I)
afbbp: that looks like a fun book, you must be a fun lady...
pnj: (in incredibly serious tone) well, actually i'm a professor of this stuff over at big state u, and well...unfortunately its not all fun. in fact, i'm just reading the part in this book about "masturbatory insanity" right now -- yep -- a young guy like you should definitely watch out for that -- it can be really tragic if you know what i mean...

afbbp: yeah... i know what you mean... (settles back in his seat looking a tad uncomfortable)

27/9/03

is toilet paper only for tall people? no, pnj thinks not. therefore, could someone please tell every deli owner in new york (especially the ones around her apartment) to please LOWER the toilet paper. we, the short people of new york, just once, want to choose our color of scott, 1000 sheets toilet paper, rather than lobbing a box of rice krispies up to the top shelf and hoping we knock the blue roll down, rather than that unfortunate looking one that is the color of bandaids.

22/9/03

go for the latkes, stay for the advice

last night pinkynicejuice went to fairway -- the giant and cheap and fabulous supermarket in her new hood -- it is open until 1 am. well for anyone who is not a new yorker -- fairway probably doesn't seem all that large, nor all that cheap -- but then again pnj's giant, cheap, and fabulous new apartment also no doubt seems expensive and cramped to the rest of you -- so you have to get in this kind of smurfish mindset where of course everything is tiny and small because we are all living inside of mushrooms and hiding from gargamell (sp?)

anyhoo -- over at the fairway deli counter one of the highlights is the tall guy who looks like a cross between snoop dogg and marcus camby (not as tall though) who yells -- hell-o, and que PASA? at you when its your turn. (the other guy yells -- if you're hungry - you're next!) he has a really beautiful voice (seriously) and sings 70s r and b and 80s songs to you while he packs up your latkes and applesauce.

last night when it was pnj's turn he sang "there is always something there to remind me -- how can i forget you girl -- when there is always something there to remind me... etc. etc." pnj for her part shared with him her suspicion that this was in fact a song about herpes. to which he replied rather seriously, "try not to think so hard baby"

20/9/03

"the stranger"

its finally happened. last night pnj saw something amazing on tv. an ad for the new billy joel broadway musical -- "movin' out!". basically a bunch of dancers who look like they were previously in "up with people" but are now at times dressed in that strange been around the block one too many times but pretending to be wholesome so that tourists from the mid-west can take their kids to see soft-porn broadway thing where they are wearing some kind of briefs and a button down shirt tied in the middle with high-heels and legwarmers and their flare-legged lycra pants partners dance these choreographed numbers to all the billy joel hits while this very blond guy who kind of looks like the guy from the carpenters (and a moment of respect please for the carpenters who pnj LOVES -- r.i.p. karen... we'd only just begun...) plays a piano and sings ALL of billy joel's hits. you know how you always used to hear billy joel described as rock -- but that made you feel kind of uncomfy -- what with uptown girl and that whole italian restaurant and piano man thing -- well now pinkynicejuice finally knows why! because all this time billy joel has actually been playing show tunes.

17/9/03

pokey, pokey, pokey -- we made you out of clay, and when you're dry and ready pokey we will play!

i miss my dog.

so a lot has been going on with pnj over these past few weeks-- preventing me from blogging -- here are a few highlights

laguardia at the usairways counter -- someone with an "eticket" had a hyphonated last name. quite an affair, there were like 30 USAIR staff members trying to figure out what to do! a real imbroglio...

conference by a lake. we sleep in bunkbeds. darlene falls out of bed in the middle of the night but insists she is ok. pnj for her part is startled -- sits straight up in bed and screams -- "OH MY GOD ARE YOU ALRIGHT???!!!!" thus waking up several people.

on the way home -- pnj's distinguished companion -- a tremendously accomplished scholar in her sixties is rather vigorously searched at the airport -- pnj tries not to look at her bellybutton while it is being "wanded".

first faculty meeting at big state u. before the meeting starts, pnj feels somehow compelled to make the two really nice women's history professors sitting next to her look at the full color photographs of vaginas in the book she is currently reading (note: this is a history book and not pnj's choice of reading material which is US Weekly magazine, and the pictures are quite tasteful -- especially the one of chimpanzees masturbating).

pnj's college roommate jen comes to visit my new fifth floor walk-up apartment and informs pnj of how to climb the stairs in such a way that she gets a firm tushy rather than thunderously large calves. (don't walk on the balls of your feet -- and squeeze as you go)

12/9/03

so pnj had her first department meeting at big state u. it was all rather sane, which was a bit disorienting - and no-one made any "motions" which was something of a relief. there was, however, a man in a safari suit with a hat and a big cigar. very curious george.

12/9/03

let's all just make a pact -- ok? no reading porn on the subway before noon.

12/9/03

yeah -- well it just dawned on pnj that within a few months time she is going to be somebody (actual her name is hazel)'s mother. this would appear to be a major responsibility for which pnj is wholly unprepared (as she has been warned by numerous people). how, you might wonder could someone be unprepared for something they have been working actively to acheive for the past five years or so? something they have been warned about the need to prepare oneself for by trained professionals and general advice giver types alike? pnj is not sure. anyhow there would appear to several more pressing questions at hand -- for example, what do you think babies eat?

So pnj just read the following late breaking wire story on the boston.com web site. i think you will find that this is the kind of story that really holds deep insight into the unique relationship between humans and animals. and actually, upon further reflection it also sounds remarkably similar to relations between thatch and pnj. especially the part about the toenails. (simply substitute thatch for lowell and pnj for lewis)

Orangutan corners zoo worker to get a hug By Associated Press, 8/27/2003

ROCHESTER, N.Y. -- Sometimes even an orangutan needs a hug.

Seneca Park Zoo volunteer Paul Lewis was cleaning out a monkey habitat when he heard something move behind him Tuesday. He turned his head and saw Lowell, a 300-pound orangutan who had escaped from an adjoining cage.

Lewis, 56, an animal lover who took the part-time job three months ago because he always wanted to work at a zoo, says he wasn't afraid.

Lewis tried to slip out through a gate but the orangutan followed him and stopped him from closing it. Then Lowell wrapped his arms around Lewis' legs and held on calmly -- for nearly five minutes.

"He wasn't holding me that tight," Lewis said. "I knew I couldn't run away from him -- I mean, I wasn't going to outrun him in a cage -- so I just kind of stood there and waited to see what he would do next. He kind of controlled the situation."

When the orangutan eventually loosened his grip, he took Lewis by the hand and led him back toward his enclosure. At one point, the animal even picked up Lewis and put him down. Moments later, he pushed him out of the cage.

By then, a veterinarian arrived with a tranquilizer gun. The orangutan was knocked out for up to four hours, and the zoo staff took advantage of the down time to clip his nails

27/8/03

the mole people

so this older guy was sitting next to me on the subway today with a really big mole -- lets say the size of a susan b anthony dollar -- on his forearm. so what? -- you think. well, pnj will tell you so what. this mole was a forest --actually more of a cultivated garden. the guy had over 150 very long hairs growing right out it (pnj did a quick count while pretending to read her book) like a patch of hairy carpeting, like that expensive yak skin pillow in soho, like he fertilized and groomed his mole. and let me tell you this -- now -- finally -- in fact, at long last (hoorah!) pnj understands why moles the growth share a name with moles the animal -- because if you groom them and cultivate them (moles the growth) properly they look just like little moles. related to this, pnj now thinks that moles the animal (hey -- that sounds kind of like mott the hoople) are kind of gross.

ok -- well-- today was packed with challenges for ms. pnj -- but you, dear friends, will be gratified (though surely not surprised) to hear that even when all the chips were down -- pnj rose to the occasion.

at 6:30 am i managed to trip -- and wound up sprawled face down on the floor of the coffee shop. in the process, pnj managed to somehow mangle her big toe and was then forced to ride the subway to penn station with mangled bloody toe sitting in a pool of sticky warm blood sandaled foot experience. as it turns out, one's big toe is tremendously useful and it is almost impossible to avoid using it. but pnj, relying on her training in brownies (did you know that i can make a terribly festive pomander ball for your closet -- place your holiday orders now!) simply went to the kmart underneath penn station and florence nightengaled herself right up!

at 12 noon, pnj walked towards the bus stop from the "barracks" in which her human resources orientation meeting was (i recently learned that these very barracks were used to debrief/disbrainwash defectors from the eastern block in the 50s! now they are used to inform new employees at big state u. about the discount on the defensive driving course that is one of the little perks that makes big state u. such a great place -- not to mention showing the promotional slideshow in which all workers great and small reflect on how going to work at big state u is really fun and like a great big family, while inspiriational music plays in the background and multi-cultural images and a few brief glimpses of B-list celebrities flash over the screen -- fortunately pnj is the type of lady who takes such presentations to heart -- and was in fact brought to tears by the introductory video that was shown during jury duty) -- anyhow as pnj prepared to wait the 40 minutes for the next shuttle bus (summer schedule on the shuttle bus is a tad sparse) to carry her back to her basement office on the main campus of big state u some five miles or so away a new philosophy professor in a white volvo drove up and insisted that since pnj had been at the same human resources orientation that he should drive pnj back to her office. after much dickering in which pnj feigned that she didn't really need a ride, and questioning to make sure it wasn't too much trouble -- in fact at the overt and very deliberate INSISTENCE of the new philosophy professor, pnj got in the car -- all was fine and then when we reached a spot about a mile or so from where pnj was headed -- right before the bridge that crosses the big river -- pnj's new "friend" pulled over and let pnj out to walk the rest of the way -- as he didn't like to drive through the center of town. fair enough, and of course pinkynicejuice doesn't mind walking -- but on the big high bridge over the river???? PNJ IS AFRAID OF HEIGHTS!!! never ever ever would i elect to walk on such a bridge. something to be avoided at all costs. its bad enough in a car, much less all alone on foot!! and didn't he INSIST that he take me where i was going? nonetheless pnj traversed the bridge, clinging to the railing, life passing before her eyes, big bloody mangled toe in sandals a-throbbing.

25/8/03

as it turns out there are reasons to wear a bra in brooklyn -- (even if it is before 7 am and one is simply going to buy a much needed cup of coffee)

what more reason does a girl need than the icky man who yelled "muy bonita" at pnj and then came a little closer so her could make a nice kissy sound right into her ear?

well in case that is not enough -- there was also the man who informed pnj that "you know -- making babies is free..." pnj, for her part, refrained from lecturing this man about the high costs of In Vitro Fertilization. let's just say he was lucky to have caught pinkynicejuice BEFORE the coffee...

23/8/03

re-entry

things pinkynicejuice has noticed on the occasion of her re-entry into new york city

- there is probably the greatest range (in terms of shape and size) of women's asses here in new york than anywhere else. (pnj had that revelation in the dressing room at century 21 -- also there's really a tremendous lot of discounted fashion to be had there -- pnj recommends you run there right now!)

- a lot of people wear velour pants even when its over 90 degrees and humid.

- the coke-head family on our block with the tripod dog that craps everywhere whose son/husband (who can tell really?) stole kendall's computer has discovered fireworks

- subway conductors take their job seriously (this pnj discovered unfortunately after someone released some noxious gas -- was it pepper-spray?-- on the F train yesterday causing a passenger to pull the emergency cord)

- a blackout is a good time to head to the corner bar with k-dunk.

21/8/03

pnj is emerging out of her basketball induced depression and is now just plain old vanilla cranky. what is she cranky about? well lets not go into that -- but here are a few suggestions that would make the world a better and more reasonable environment for pinkynicejuice to live, love, work, and play.

-cream of cheddar cheese is NOT a soup. perhaps it is some kind of fondue (or as my friend anne says: fon-don't) please remove it from the "soup of the day" rotation and replace it with vegetable, or minestrone, or lentil.

- related to the above -- lobster -- is NOT an icecream flavor it is a gimmick. would stupid people please stop buying it so that the icecream shop up the street would replace it with coconut almond chip?

-abercrombie and fitch should please go away (and take tommy hilfiger with you). as thatch pointed out the other night -- anything that combines preppy and slutty is probably a bad idea.

- could it please dry out a bit? it is so moist here that pnj is afraid that a mushroom might sprout out of pokey's arm pit at any moment.

- would someone please clarify for the new york times that the headline "bush sends troops to liberia" might lead one to believe that bush sent (more than 6) troops "into" liberia, rather than to the atlantic ocean. when they fired everyone did they forget to look at the headline guy?

- can the idiots in hollywood please refrain from making otherwise decent actors speak in absolutely unbelievably butchered and ridiculous boston accents (examples include rob morrow in quiz show, diane lane in perfect storm, tom hanks in catch me if you can...pnj could go on....)! this ridiculous and highly irritating practice only leads to those horrifying encounters where someone from the wisonsin dells upon meeting a bostonian feels the need to nudge them and shout "pahk the cah in hahvad yahd". (when really we NEVER say that and its not at all like someone can park there anyways. they'd tow your ass in heartbeat. we say -- i was down in the park drinking cutty sark in the dark with clark the aardvark)

- could everyone just please call me by my stage name: professor foofie q. snubington, phd.

6/8/03

well they have done it. the knicks have traded latrell sprewell and gotten in exchange...keith van horn! nice move -- let's trade the one guy on the team who actually plays like he gives a crap and get some oversized wuss in knee socks who no-one else wants because despite being an f-ing giant he plays like rene zellwegger (sp?). kevin mchale plays to win -- minnesota is looking fine -- kg and olowokandi and cassell and now spree. now that's a team. for her part, pnj will now abandon the knicks and return to the team of her youth -- the celtics -- a move which forces her to sacrifice a new purse and shoes in favor of some ridiculously overpriced cable tv service. it's almost as though the knicks gm didn't even think of the fashion ramifications for pnj when he made this bonehead deal...

why is fudge -- of all things -- a seaside food? yeah -- after a day at the beach, when i am kind of hot and salty and sticky, and the sun is shining, there is nothing i want more than to tuck into a big ol gnarly piece of fudge... how completely refreshing.

a wig

ok -- so pnj really wants a wig. in fact, i've wanted a wig for ages, but have been too lazy to get one. i wonder what would happen if i showed up for my new job wearing some kind of straight-haired, red-haired, short-haired wig. i think i am going to get an afro one too while i am at it. anyhow one wonders what is allowed and all fashionwise in academia. its one of those weird work things where you know there is a rule somewhere but no one is actively policiting it on the spot, and sometimes it seems that they give you more leeway if you are an anthropologist or a poet or a computer science gal/guy than if you are an economist or some other totally uptight discipline that spends its time "modelling" everything and then trying to hide everything that doesn't fit into the model with weird language, or just f-ing squeeze it into the model like those people in the japanese subway who wear the little white gloves and pack all the businessmen and little school kids and what have you into the subway cars... yeah good to be in a field where you don't have to wear pantyhose and a suit -- but sometimes pnj fears that she is pushing it a bit too far. usually this phase in the semester is set in motion by some sort of laundry crisis which is set in motion by some sort of laziness crisis. then prof. pnj is left standing in her room at 6 in the morning digging through the piles of clothing on her floor wondering if perhaps those purple glitter tights with the denim skirt and sneakers might not be just fine -- after all they are at least clean....

you know what i love about baseball? well -- ONE of the things i love about baseball -- the whole rock, paper, scissors aspect of it. f-ing fabulous -- talk about mind games.

you know when someone who always made you super happy dies, you just want to take a minute -- that's why it sucks that all of pnj's celia cruz cds are back in brooklyn.

22/7/03

the enigma

so there is a nude beach here on martha's vineyard -- really one of the most spectacular beaches on the island -- and the site of pokey's famous battle with the muskrat. (can you believe that thatcher had never heard of the song muskrat love -- until then?) anyhow though we try to limit our trips to the nude beach to wintertime- pnj does occasionally go there in fairer weather to commune with the glory of nature, despite the fact that the warm weather brings the nudists and your good friend pnj is a wicked uptight prude who would rather not see naked people -- not to mention the ever present fear that pokey will go over to a group of them and begin sniffing their genitals -- this has threatened to happen on several occasions --fortunately, the lure of dog treats is powerful (and of course the time when some icky naked man started hitting on my friend steph and i one day in like october when the beach was deserted and we were jus sitting on a rock, wearing jeans and sweatshirts and just trying to eat these totally giant donuts we had (humphreys on this island makes the most amazing donuts filled with homemade blueberry filling -- outrageous!!)and watch the sandpipers, and this middle-aged banker on his weekend off type naked guy comes up and tries to hit on us -- i mean can a girl just enjoy her donut in peace with out some penis wielding loser bugging her?) ... anyhow, pnj finds the nude beach very confusing. let me put it this way -- why would someone wear no clothes, but still don sneakers, a nike fanny pack, and a baseball cap? why would someone only wear accessories, but no clothes? isn't that a bit contradictory? plus most of the nudists look horribly sunburned -- so if sneakers don't get in the way of the whole nudist look and ethos -- then surely a little sunscreen isn't out of the question -- right? and what are they carrying in those fanny packs and napsacks on the beach if not at least some sunscreen? pnj once posed this question to her neighbor with whom she was dog walking in the nearby nature preserve. my neighbor, for her part, looked puzzled and revealed that not only did she not know the answer to the nudist in sneakers and fannypack puzzle -- but also that she had always assumed it was just another crazy thing that white people did, and was midly relieved to hear that not all white people were closet nudists. well glad we straightened out that part of it at least.

pnj hasn't felt much like blogging of late. not that i haven't missed you all terribly -- i just haven't had much to say for myself. i think i know why. the shopping moratorium that the ever fiscally responsible thatch suggested several months back continues and that is pretty much sucking the life-force out of me. without rampant consumerism pnj is slowly drying out and turning into a small pile of dust. oh well. perhaps some celebrity will come along and snort me and i will begin a new journey in this crazy, mad cap, adventure game we call "life".

whatever. anyhow -- my fabulous neighbor willie just came home from fishing and came to give us a big slab of mako shark he just caught. of course pnj answered the door -- in her pj's at 8:30 pm on a friday night. fortunately i had not yet applied the algae face mask -- but nonetheless -- it does leave one feeling a tad loserish. in fact, this has been a challenge pnj's entire life. your friend pinky nice juice is a morning girl.

pull up your pants.

that's right -- pull up your pants! while at first glance the contents of this blog might seem better suited to the pnj advice column, upon closer examination you, dear friend, will note that pnj is not offering advice here -- but rather giving orders and telling it like it is.

if the crotch of your pants is slung down around your knees, then yes -- i am talking to you -- and i, pinkynicejuice, command you-- young men out there to pull up your pants!

let pinkynicejuice explain something about pants. pants, as it turns out, are a wonderful invention. yes -- an opportunitity to express yourself is contained in each and every act of donning pants (and in every pair of pants you wear) -- but pants, in fact, offer more than a mere chance to identify oneself. they are also quite utilitarian, and pnj fears that many young men of today are not getting the maximum benefit from their pants.

not only are pants fashionable and good for the economy -- but they can also cover your tushy. if your pants aren't covering your tush -- well, then you are not getting your money's worth. pants also offer wonderful mobility while still allowing you to carry your wallet and keys (a fact to which any lady out there wearing a skirt and carrying a purse can attest). try this little test based on a simple rhyme (easy to memorize) to see if your pants are offering the mobility you deserve. go put on your pants. then do a little dance. see if you can't prance in your pair of pants. ok -- if you can't dance and prance without your pants getting in your way it probably means that they are too large for you and cramping your style.

if you aren't getting the maximum reward from your choice of pants consider these options. get new pants -- one's that fit. OR if secretly you are wearing those gynormous pants because you have some kind of exhibitionist need for us all to see your underpants, then stop sacrificing mobility. just wear your underpants, and a set of legwarmers or knee socks. no need for pants at all.

2/7/03

neighbors

here on martha's vineyard one can drown in how cute everything is -- its all so incredibly kittens and mitten and fudge and ceramic ducks that at times one can feel a bit angry. well only in the summer -- in the winter the cuteness all looks really seedy, like an abandoned carnival or something -- which is extremely fabulous and makes you feel compelled to drive about the island in the fog shouting -- grrr pirates!! anyhow people like to personalize their homes by giving them names, so one sees plaques on houses that say things like: "firefly" or "heart's desire" or a personal favorite: "the captain and his lady" -- which i always imagine is owned by some huggie bear (from starskey and hutch) type personae. this of course reminds pnj of thatch's very old red pontiac firebird station wagon that he had when we first met (and for several years hence)-- the car we all called "the bird". the bird was an incredible car -- she had those amazing floaty american 80s car shock absorbers, and the big super loose power steering wheel where you can parallel park by just using your index finger. and there was this very unsettling child's bathing suit that was always floating around in the way back beneath some tools (until it was enlisted to clean up cat poop one day), and this irritating sticky melted candy phenomenon on the dash -- created by one of thatch's ex-girlfriends (but we wont talk about her now will we -- given how thoroughly OUT of the picture she now is...). in fact the bird was so excellent that she was even the subject of a most beautiful tune performed by sinkhole -- thatch's former band.

anyhow the bird was festooned with bumper stickers proclaiming such slogans as "sun, suds, and sex!" and "single and looking to mingle" and "grandparents are special people" (which -- pnj might add -- is true and a sentiment that we here in america might do more to promote)and the best one "i like my whickey on ice and my women on fire" (and a big shout out to coach who remembered this!) there were quite a few of these and most of them were fancied up versions of some basic bumper sticker sentiment that seeks to unite tits, cars, and beer into a holy triad of sorts-- in fact, they reminded me a bit of my friend arthur's story about being at a waffle house in atlanta with a friend who was trying to play the waffle house juke box-- but it jammed, and out of the back of the waffle house some incredibly erudite patron proclaimed -- "hit it like you hit your wife!" (that's pinkynicejuice's long winded way of saying redneck while still maintaining her pc academic thang) -- but pnj digresses -- anyhow one sunday morning thatch and i were on our way somewhere and as we pulled out of our parking space and were turning the corner in front of our building (in an industrial section of south boston which was always deserted on the weekend) we passed a certain neighborhood denizen -- a homeless guy who eliot once gave several cases of empties to one morning -- thus eliciting an enthusiastic and totally unsolicited vow from this guy to never again take a dump behind our building again (ok -- thanks! and you, dear reader, might take this little kernel of knowledge with you and store it away for just in case -- pnj thinks you will agree that a few empty bottles is a small price to pay to prevent further episodes of human defecation in one's backyard)-- anyhow -- this guy who was sitting on the curb tucking into some boone's wild island stood up and said to thatch -- "is that YOUR car?" with a totally blown away awe-struck look and thatch said yeah. and he said "well ALRIGHT" and gave the thumbs up. now that's the kind of enthusiasm and appreciation and efforts at mutual understanding and respect that one is looking for from their neighbors.

30/6/03

who is my absolutely favorite celebrity of all time?

jerry remy. that's who.

there are some scary parents out there. in fact, if you -- like me -- enjoy wallowing in how challenging your childhood was, and perhaps complaining about how you felt compelled to take tennis lessons even though it was perfectly obvious to all who knew you that pinkynicejuice, (who we might at least mention was a mean "jacks" player, and knew like a gazillion moves in cat's cradle), sucked at sports and lacked a certain eye hand co-ordination which, in fact, led her piano teacher to burst into tears and forbid her from ever playing the piano again (pnj for her part remained dry-eyed throughout this encounter -- i mean no piano, no biggie, just relax lady) -- anyhow if that is you -- then you must rush out and get some perspective. that is what pnj did this afternoon -- on the advice of her brother-in-law and sister-in-law (and a big shout out to nancy who always exhibits fabulous taste in pop-culture)-- me and thatch went and saw SPELLBOUND, the documentary about the national spelling bee in washington. my goodness, it was rather intense, by the end (as thatch pointed out) they were practically making words up. yeah. anyhow, upon watching the film, suddenly the fact that my father's favorite word when pnj was small was "dink" seemed incredibly heartwarming.

29/6/03

polar bear

reading the blog of kdunk today -- over at morethandonuts
which was in turn, inspired by laura holder (an excellent blogger in her own right), reminded pnj of a little tale of her own about talking (and other things) in one's sleep...so a big shout out to kdunk and lauraholder and other sleep-blogging ladies!

now pinkynicejuice (who always keeps her cards close to the chest and all that) naturally, is not one to talk in her sleep. thatcher, however is another story. but, alas, it does not stop with talking -- as the following tale of woe from four summers ago will reveal.

on that fateful night, thatcher was sporting a plaster cast on his hand, having suffered a terrifically macho injury while playing soccer a few weeks earlier, an injury which subsequently required surgery and the consumption of several demerol. with his hand bound into a permanent greeting, we were calling thatch the polar bear -- an animal he truly resembles. anyhow, we were in our tiny house in oak bluffs, sleeping right across the hall from our truly fabulous friends john and brittney who had come to visit for the weekend. and pnj was awakened from her customary light, but comfy slumber to the sight of thatcher sitting straight up in bed, yelling something at me. suddenly gynormous thatcher -- the polar bear -- was pinning me down and beating me on the head with his plaster cast. pnj -- having been trained well for emergencies of all kinds by her mother -- began yelling "help!" "help!!" "john! brittney! help!!" help, however, was not forthcoming. instead -- the throbbing pain that is caused by beating one's spouse about the head with one's recently operated upon and cast covered hand --brought this sorry episode to a close, and thatcher began to lie on the bed moaining in pain and asking -- what happened? -- well as you can imagine, your friend pnj was a tad confused over the answer to that question herself. what did happen? and when, she wondered, might her head cease pounding...

well -- i am, after all, a trained historian, and can therefore reconstruct events. (yes, of course, you, dear friend, can also reconstruct events -- but mine could have properly formatted footnotes if i so choose) so with a little discussion, soon we discovered that thatch (world's most peaceful -- and extremely huge guy) had in fact, been ASLEEP this whole time. indeed he had dreamt something of a bad dream -- one in which, i pinkynicejuice was being attacked by a bad force of some sort (too many video games can cause one to dream about evil forces and gnomes carrying tiny shovels, and jedi knights gone wrong and all that), and that he was beating that evil intruder to get him off of me -- headlights from a passing car only confirmed this fact, as did the fact that pnj was screaming for help. so he was not sleep-walking or sleep-talking, but in fact, sleep-defending his wife!

in the morning of course we reviewed all of this with john and brittney.

pnj: didn't you guys hear me screaming for help?

john: yeah. we thought it was some kind of weird sex game.

20/6/03

chivalry is not dead! but it can be a tad annoying...

as it turns out, ms. pnj can park her car all by herself. why is it than when i am about to parallel park (a skill at which pinkynicejuice excels -- unlike, say, driving on the highway -- a skill at which she is less than mediocre) some random man (indeed it is always a man and never in all my life a woman) suddenly appears out of nowhere and starts making all kinds of crazy hand gestures and saying things like "ok keep coming, cut it! cut it! stop! ok, back..." supposedly ushering idiotic female me into my spot -- like pnj is operating a commercial aircraft that is easing up to the "jetway." in fact, yesterday this phenomenon took the form of some 17 year old boy who was decked out in abercrombie and fitch from head to toe and sporting that ridiculous hair that is bleached only at the tips, suddenly appearing out of nowhere and standing in my parking space while directing me. now how is pnj going to park melba, her massive 15 year old station wagon, if some barely post-pubescent idiot who has been driving for 6 months is standing IN her spot being "helpful"?

20/6/03

cavemen and caveladies

last week your friend and confidant pnj read the most fascinating story in the paper about some idiot who is out there promoting "raw foods" -- its really something of a "movement" -- not in the symphonic or bowel sense, but actually in the populist sense. this means that he only eats (and cooks -- well actually not cooks, but prepares -- at his restaurant) foods that have not been cooked. this, of course is far more natural (never mind that they have been dehydrated, peeled, pureed, marinated, mixed, pounded, and goodness only knows whatelse) and mommy nature does indeed know best. (never mind also that while mommy nature did invent fire -- via lightening and all that, she did not do likewise with the ronco food dehydrator -- a minor matter, or was it cavemen and caveladies who invented fire?). in fact, as this guy was suggesting, this was the diet of cavemen -- those incredibly virile, and remarkably healthy men of long ago who made that fabulous rock art and dragged their fur wearing insanely foxy and extremely healthy caveladies around by their tousled hair (inbetween painting cave art and stone tools). now as an historian of medicine, dr.p.n.juice can attest to the fact that cavemen and cave ladies were and INCREDIBLY healthy bunch (festering sores and intenstinal worms aside)-- in fact, perhaps it makes sense to really go for it all the way. why stop at raw food -- why not just live in a cave and wear underpants made from some old hyena pelt? i think we'd all live longer.

you talk too much.
you never shut up.
i said you talk too much.
oh boy you never shut up.

you're always spreading rumors whether bad or good.
you're the damn walter cronkite of the neighborhood.

run dmc rules

turtles are cute, but they kind of freak pnj out -- you know what i mean?

13/6/03

my nephew -- who is four -- just got scooby doo underpants and he is wicked pumped. aren't you jealous?

13/6/03

um...ok, anyone who thought that pnj was exaggerating when she wrote about the fear of riding through town in a coach drawn by white horses can come to my house (in oak bluffs -- not brooklyn) RIGHT NOW -- even as we speak a PINK carriage pulled by two (admittedly palimino) horses, driven by a guy in a top hat and tails, and festooned with wedding flowers is passing. followed by a couple of annoyed looking fishermen who are just trying to get tony's market to buy some f-ing beer.

7/6/03

oh -- why don't we actually PLAY dikembe mutombo... duh.

7/6/03

the academic mode of production...

pnj and pokey recently received the following missive from a fabulous friend, dr.bottomofthetotempolenewphd, who is working in the trenches out there at anonymous u.

Dear pnj (and pokey too because she seems like the type of dog to care about such matters), [this is, in fact, true -- pokey cares deeply]

Should you ever create another website, perhaps it will be to showcase evidence of horrors/injustice/misery of life in academia. Prof. Bottom of the totem pole would like to submit the following evidence for archive.

How it really is in academia. Actual emails included, but names changed to protect privacy of morons.

Round 1:

Hi Dr. Lazy,

I'm working on revising a paper summarizing the background section of the really cool idea grant. I don't know if Prof Peon sent this paper to you for review, but she had listed your name as an author on an early draft. I am leaving her on as first author. I need to check on your interest in continuing to work on this paper, whether you have time to do so, etc.

Sincerely,

Dr. Take all the Credit

Round 2:

Dear Dr. Take all the credit,

Thanks very much for letting me know about this. I would like to continue to be involved [i.e. be kept on as author]. I appreciate your moving this paper ahead.

Regards, Dr. Lazy

Round 3:

Dear Bottom of the totem pole new ph.d.,

[obviously irritated] I'm not quite sure why Dr. Peon listed Dr. Lazy's name on the draft, but I am uncomfortable taking Dr. Lazy off unilaterally so please leave her on as an author.

Best,

Dr. Take all the Credit

THE TRUTH - NEITHER DR. LAZY NOR DR. TAKE ALL THE CREDIT ARE REVISING

THIS PAPER. IT IS ALL BEING DONE BY DR. BOTTOM OF THE TOTEM POLE NEW PHD.

7/6/03

have you missed me?

because, pnj has certainly missed you. where has pinky been, you may have wondered...perhaps she was at the G8 summit, giving some much needed advice...or maybe she was in pittsburg watching the sox and the pirates play in those ridiculous 1903 "vintage" outfits (um, did they really have polyester in 1903?). well -- you were wrong. your friend pnj has been right here all along, in her tiny living room huddled over a folding card table she set up, completing THE HARDEST JIGSAW PUZZLE ON EARTH!! and now, in a fit of triumph, i return to mere mortal pursuits here in the world of blogging.

6/6/03

pnj reveals her true self!

to the chair of her department at big state u. oh yes she does. so prof. pnj (actually assistant prof. pnj -- but let's not get technical) despite all promises to herself to the contrary has jumped on the very first opportunity to reveal her deep neuroses, rampant disorganization, and general discombobulation to the chair of her new department. said chair simply wanted to know when pnj would be heading to big state u. to move into her new office. pnj, for her part, felt the need to reply to this two line email with FOUR, count 'em four separate email responses, each superceding the other, with escalating subject lines moving quickly from "Re: office", to "ignore previous", to "follow up query", to "oops, oh no -- ignore all previous!!", and each chock full of superfluous details about pnj's personal logistics, including dog sitting and transportation issues -- details which the new chair no doubt finds positively fascinating and highly pertinent. somehow pnj suspects this will earn her an office next to the boiler room, where the other faculty can hope to avoid her.

29/5/03

i do! (take your huevos and scramble them in a bowl for all to see and taste).

why are some weddings so incredibly emasculating? pinky nice juice often wonders about this. (and yes, pnj is up on the voluminous lit out there on gender identity, the construction of masculinity and the like, but here really we are talking about societal norms and something Marx called commodity fetishism) -- truly there are few things more depressing than hearing one's male friend regurgitate drivel from Martha Stewart Weddings about table linen and center pieces.

sometimes pnj senses that what women take to be fear of committment on behalf of their male partners is in actual fact, fear of forcing one's nephew to dress as little lord fauntleroy, or fear of riding in a white coach pulled by trusted white stallions through the streets of one's home town...

oh yeah -- and why do the invitations come with that little piece of tissue paper? answer me that.

28/5/03

does anyone out there think it is weird that thatch is so tall and pnj is so short? if not let pnj offer you this little math problem

If Sean Bradley is 7'6" and Thatcher is 6'4" and Pokeythedog is 2'10" (with ears standing straight up) -- how tall is Pinky Nice Juice if the following conditions are true?

The difference in height between Sean Bradley and PNJ is equal to that between PNJ and pokeythedog.

The difference in height between Sean Bradley and Thatch is equal to that between Thatch and PNJ.

ATTENTION!!!!! ACHTUNG!!! HEY - YOU!!!!

Did you all see that SLOWER.NET -- the mindbogglingly fabulous and absolutely supreme website of pnj's friend and general brooklyn maven e. shepard was described in yesterday's NEW YORK TIMES (pnj does believe that is the newspaper of record in nueva york ciudad) as essentially the hidden jewel of the internet!!!! fabulous. and he makes his own pasta too...

PULA!!! PULA!!!

26/5/03

saturday morning your close friend and confidant (sp?), ms. pinkynicejuice, made a vow that she would go for two whole weeks eschewing dessert -- just for the sheer mind over matter, holistic willpower, isis warrior goddess, pnj can do anything she puts her mind to thrill of it all -- and to stunt the growth of my ass. here is my first occasion to update you all on my progress.

saturday -- cannoli

sunday -- rice pudding

(this bowl of pudding was acquired at the insistance of anne from the new rice pudding hut in nolita -- From Rice to Rices. At long last we new yorkers can access twenty different flavors of rice pudding -- served in a new wave, vaguely scandanavian, futuristic pod room that looks like a cross between a set from sleeper and a stanley kubrick film (and a big shout out to the guy behind me in line who came up with the kubrick reference). as a bostonian, naturally the whole pudding motif made me powerfully homesick for the former "pudding it first" in coolidge corner.

monday -- macaroons (and pnj has high hopes for an italian ice later this evening)

so far so good...

19/5/03

is there some sort of expression about having a hair across one's ass -- or did i make it up this weekend, based on personal experience?

19/5/03

rummy

well it turns out that our secretary of defense -- d. rumsfeld --is a poet. thatcher found the following poem on the slate -- where they are featuring a lovely selection of rummy's verses, all taken from the defense department website. pnj is considering commissioning this underground talent to write one about pokeythedog

The Unknown
As we know,
There are known knowns.
There are things we know we know.
We also know
There are known unknowns.
That is to say
We know there are some things
We do not know.
But there are also unknown unknowns,
The ones we don't know
We don't know.

—Feb. 12, 2002, Department of Defense news briefing

17/5/03

transitions

yesterday was a day of transitions. some good some bad.

pnj submitted her grades, attended the end of the year department fete, and bid goodbye to sexist tech. sala sentle sexist tech, sekolo se se crappy. (that's setswinglish for-- stay well craphole).

the spurs not only beat the lakers, who were forced to leave the playoffs get into their custom made sports cars and head home to their multi-million dollar mansions in tears (literally -- which pnj thinks is a little much frankly), they slaughtered them. wiped the floor with them. banana cream pie in the faced them. tsamaya sentle lakers, bahumi ba ba sekang dikeledi. (that's setswinglish for -- go well tycoons who shed tears).

june carter cash died. my setswinglish isn't good enough to pay tribute.

16/5/03

having just now completed the grading of her students' final papers for the semester, pinky nice juice feels it necessary to remind you, dear friends, of something she apparently neglected to tell her students.

africa, as it turns out, is a continent. not a country.

13/5/03

hooray we're moving on up...

well, in the great tradition of george and wheezy jefferson (or jed, granny, jethro, and miss ellie clamped -- take your pick) it looks like pnj, thatcher, and pokeythedog are headed uptown to manhattan, leaving brooklyn behind for the benefits of apartment ownership (and a big shout out to john emlyn lewis and his fantabulous blog for setting pnj straight on why this might actually be a reasonable thing to do). this potential move is bitter-sweet to say the least -- as there is truly NO place on earth that could possibly kick ass like Brooklyn. Below, pnj offers you concrete and irrefutable evidence of why...

last weekend, as she emerged from the subway and walked the few short blocks to chez-pokey, pnj encountered the following.

12/5/03

things pnj inherited from her mother

well, the most significant thing pnj inherited from her mom, is the compulsion to buy bread (this includes muffinry, cakes, and such)to assuage anxiety. in fact if you open the freezer of Mmapinkynicejuice (that's Setswana for the pnj's mom) you will find a tremendous assortment of bread and bread products, all organized in little freezer bags and such. pnj cannot claim any organizational scheme, but she did go out earlier for shampoo and instead returned home with a two pound chocolate babka.

12/5/03

morethandonuts' weather forecast yesterday: cold and muggy with a chance of sun...

pinkynicejuice's weather forecast today: cloudy, with a chance of meatballs

12/5/03

the horror...

pnj has seen something most unpleasant.

let me put it this way -- if you are in the market and your five year old child points to something and asks what it is -- the following should NEVER be the reply-

...well lillith (or fantasia or fallon or whatever they are calling snotty little new york baby girls on the upper east side at the moment), that is a semi-soft, raw, cow's milk cheese with a washed rind from the pyrennes, you'll like it -- its similar to the cheese you enjoy from the trappist monestary near Zurich...

whatever happened to lunchables?

9/5/03

(to the tune of the rainbow connection, from The Muppet Movie)

why are there so many songs about pokey

and what's on her underside?

pokey's a doggie, but only a doggie

and canines have nothing to hide

its so amazing, how she just keeps grazing

as though she were really a cow

someday we'll find it, the pokey connection,

the lovers, the dreamers and poke

all of us under her spell,

we know that's its probably magic...

ok -- you know what are absolutely adorable? puppies! that's what.

so just now pnj and thatcher were stepping out of a cab onto henry street one half block from our apartment, when a police van pulled up and the two cops in it asked thatcher and pnj to show some id. they also asked to see the contents of our bag of burritos. later they looked sheepish when they identified that the empty bottle thatcher was carrying had previously contained GINGER beer, not real beer.

let me ask you this -- even if it were an empty bottle of real beer -- in fact, even if it were an empty bottle of malt liquor -- dont you think that new york's finest might have some better things to be worrying about? pnj guesses that they must be done detaining all the middle eastern immigrants in the city and have now moved on to ginger beer drinking new englanders.

4/5/03

last thursday pnj had a dentist appointment. this was my first time with my new dentist -- he's a bit odd but assured me that he is a great dentist and that he "teaches at columbia and nyu for free -- i mean i just offer them my services" (quite the act of generosity), he also maintains the largest dental website on the internet. plus he is a self-published author and gave me a free copy of his book (which pnj was forced to leave in a garbage bin outside, since she was traveling light), it was almost entirely made up of glossy color photos of "conditions" that can happen in one's mouth, and he used the phrase "informed consent" like 500 times during our appointment.

anyhow -- afterwards pnj walked 70 some off blocks from rockefeller center up to her meeting at columbia with her fly down the entire way.

hello new york

some nights, after a few drinks with a friend, riding home over the brooklyn bridge while your cab driver speaks bambara into his cell phone and plays classic hits on the radio -- it is easy to love new york...

3/5/03

pnj has a new boyfriend and his name is Maurice Cheeks!

3/5/03

i'm not a fighter pilot, but i play one on tv

pnj feels the need to gently remind out president that some might find it a bit confusing to see him landing on an aircraft carrier (in a plane someone else is piloting) and then getting photographed up the wazoo in an aviator suit (is that what they call it?) -- after using his daddy's connections to scam out of combat service during vietnam. why not just go for it and get an astronaut suit and wear that around some with images of the moon landing playing in the background?

2/5/03

i rule!! no wait a minute....

last night pinky nice juice arrived home after a long day at sexist tech to an incredible site. my goodness!! a ROYALTY check (for 53 bucks) from sales of my doctoral dissertation. of course, pnj immediately showed thatcher, who was dutifully proud of the 13 sales this represented.

and then ms. pnj spent several moments basking in what a supreme bad ass she was -- i mean this much money just from selling doctoral dissertations! who buys doctoral dissertations anyhow? perhaps my research is not as obsure as i have been led to believe. well, pnj must be making quite a name for herself in the fast paced world of african history if this many people are willing to put down cold hard cash for my dissertation. perhaps after it becomes a book i can just quit my day job and write full time. no need to teach -- i can simply collect ROYALTY checks. In fact, I AM essentially royalty myself at this point. now i know why they call it that (certainly there is no underlying historical explanation). pokey can sleep on a cashmere pillow and eat nothing but steak and the thigh bones of organically raised buffalo, and i, pinky nice juice, well i will probably need a whole new wardrobe -- i will be a "writer" after all...and maybe i can get one of those cute Mini cars -- maybe in green -- yes definitely green (with a sunroof)... why am i so consumed with shopping? this is an academic, and intellectual success the value of which clearly transcends any material significance....

ooops. wait a second. hold on. and then it dawned on your friend pnj ever so slowly. I -- Pinky Nice Juice -- bought those copies of my dissertation, and sent them to friends and organizations who helped me in Botswana.

29/4/03

here's a thought. before you subject a room full of people to your "ideas" --your so-called "presentation" -- why dont you practice it first? and while you are at it, get a watch too. congratulations that you can use "power point" -- we are all terribly impressed with your gynormous bullet points and graphics. but pinky nice juice and her colleagues would so appreciate it - if you could limit your mindnumbingly boring remarks to the time alloted.

25/4/03

i am using thatcher's computer - its is tremendously high tech and runs on linux and is really so ultimately geeky. just like thatch. in fact, if i were to give this computer a bad haircut, a punk rock t-shirt, a kiss belt buckle, a burrito, and a pair of glasses i bet his own mother couldn't tell the difference.

25/4/03

today is one of those days where pnj woke up already wanting to cry. is this simply the hang over from how many times she stuck her foot in her mouth yesterday? or is it a gentle warning from the future, that today is already lost -- it can only go downhill from here? time will tell...

24/4/03

if you can't get a job -- go to graduate school!

yeah that's right. that makes a lot of sense. as people regularly insinuated to me during my entire interminably long tenure as a graduate student -- it is really just some sort of escapist enterprise for lazy, pussy, self-important, esoteric types who can't be bothered to do any actual work (oh yeah, aside from waiting tables, and teaching undergrads at elite institutions where the students dont actually meet the professors -- but that of course doesn't count -- its "training" and a "rite of passage" -- not work)

perhaps true -- but that is also the kind of mentality that produces such stellar moments at sexist tech as pnj's graduate seminar last year in which a terribly sophisticated graduate student objected to the whole health care enterprise on humanitarian grounds. "i mean -- dont you guys think that it is just wrong for us to be like destroying viruses and bacteria -- aren't they living creatures too?"

you got me there...

22/4/03

today in class pinkynicejuice had to say a few words about clitorodectomy... somedays pnj wishes she taught home ec. making denim back packs and pizza bagels seems much more clear cut.

21/4/03

oops - after struggling with the incredibly cryptic menu at the japanese soba restaurant today, pinky nice juice inadvertently ordered TWO lunches - which was a tad embarassing -- and rather expensive when it all came.

belch.

this reminds me of the tale of a certain woman i knew in college who went to germany on her honeymoon. she and her new husband stayed at a pension which is like a cross between a mini-hotel and a bed and breakfast -- uber european. apparently this pension was run by a rather stern, deeply intimidating german lady.

the first morning they went down to breakfast, where the lady had laid out a little buffet with a selection of cereal and bread and jam and hard boiled eggs and fruit and whathaveyou. well, our protagonist was a little uncertain about how the whole system worked, and feeling a bit intimidated and confused and also no doubt awed by the solid germanic physiques that surrounded her, mistook the rather large serving bowl of granola to be a single portion of granola. so she poured milk on it and brought it to her table -- where her new husband informed her that she had just taken the granola that was intended to feed all 10 people staying at the pension. realizing her mistake she looked up and found the pension frau lady/owner glaring at her, and decided that the best thing to do was to pretend that she meant to take that much granola. in fact, she f-ing LOVES granola and begins most days with a substantial two pound bowl of the stuff -- and she demonstrated as much by forcefeeding herself the entire bowl -- which took like an hour and pretty much dominated the whole first day of her honeymoon.

18/4/03

bananas and pork

today -- on her way back from the pork store (where pnj was treated to the MOST outstanding eggplant parm hero one can possibly imagine -- and the absolutely mind-boggling event of the owners of the pork store sharing their thoughts on the pork store featured on the sopranos (i mean there are only so many pork stores out there so one assumes that they have a particular take on the matter)-- this conversation was spurred on by the fact that one of the owners of my pork store was at the knicks game this week and saw several of the sopranos actors in the stands -- including ** christopher** whom he described as "a complete midget -- the guy is only as tall as spike lee" -- having once seen spike lee myself in martha's vineyard pnj is disheartened to report that he is in fact, the same height as yours truly -- pinkynicejuice) -- anyhow returning home from the pork store -- pinkynicejuice was followed by a little man in a straw hat with a spanish accent who kept right behind me saying over and over again -- banana. i want a roasted banana. banana. banana. i want a roasted banana.

do you think this is some kind of message???

17/4/03

the combination of the blog below and pokey's dog nose burrowed into my leg reminds me of when i first got pokey and a few people felt it must be their duty to confront me with the truth of the matter(knowing of my longstanding and fraught attempts to have a baby) and said "you realize that you are just getting a dog because you can't have a baby". my reply: "yes i do -- so what is your point?"

i mean its not like i was dressing pokey up in a baby bonnet and pushing her about the town in one of those giant strollers that encourage people to carry their life's possessions with them... leave me and pokey alone.

17/4/03

ok -- if one more person assures pinkynicejuice in no uncertain terms that nothing "i mean nothing" can possibly prepare her for how incredibly consuming and overwhelming and blowaway life changing it is to be a mother -- and then follows up this bold statement offered with all the hubris that only parents can muster -- with a query as to what pnj is doing to prepare herself -- pnj will stab them in the eye with a dull fork. yes -- mommies and daddies of the world -- let me see if i have got this straight-- there is NOTHING i can do to prepare myself -- i am doomed to be unprepared -- so i must begin preparing immediately...

17/4/03

today, purusing the always fabulous website of morethandonuts, pinky nice juice enjoyed a deep moment of utter homesickness for beach and sand and grass. it is finally warming up here and after a very new york kind of weekend, it is easy to long for such places.

then just now, walking through the cement maze of sexist tech, pnj realized that actually she was longing for something much further out of reach.

today, i wish i were in botswana. if i could be anywhere right now, it would be stretched out next to dikeledi, lying on a black and white goat skin mat, in the cool shade of the bougainvilla arbor at mma moremi's compound -- gossiping about friends and coworkers, or perhaps planning what kinds of sandwiches to make for her two boys to take to school that week.

somedays the world is much too big

14/4/03

this morning pinky nice juice was fored to wake pokeythedog up at 9:30 am -- as i had grown impatient waiting to take her on her morning walk. i ask you --what kind of self-respecting dog needs to be woken up in the morning? whatever happened to the days when dogs woke you up -- carrying their leash in their mouth?

11/4/03

if thatcher and pinky nice juice are to remain married there is one thing above all that we must avoid at all costs-- shopping together. this includes a brief trip to the deli.

10/4/03

_-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

amidst all her constant bitching and moaning about life at sexist tech -- perhaps pinky nice juice has neglected to pay tribute to her colleague -- N. It is hard to sum up the utter fabulousness of N. -- but perhaps the following will suggest something of it to you all -- dear friends. This morning, pnj arrived at work, punched the key pad security code to enter the department office (oh yes! we are all terribly secure at sexist tech with this state of the art 1960s door locking mechanism, which also features on the women's room --a student told me that it was instituted in response to some sexual assault cases -- reassuring...)to find that her mail box contained a certain plastic bag filled with soft, chewable, non-toxic and utterly adorable DOG TOYS!!!! a gift from N. to pokeythedog. the plush brown and pink "slice-o-cake" is pnj's personal favorite -- in fact, it looks good enough to eat!

7/4/03

new york's bravest meet new york's assholes

early this morning (all too early thanks to day light savings time, which pinky nice juice thinks should mark the end for all snow possiblities for the season -- thank you very much -- are you listening mommy nature???) pnj and pokey the dog encountered the following scene a mere two blocks from their abode. three fire trucks (including a hook and ladder) and two smaller fire vehicles all with lights flashing and new york's bravest pouring out of them, wielding axes and other such iconic pieces of fire fighting paraphernalia were blocking the street, clearly in an attempt to save brooklyn based blood and treasure (life and limb -- take your pick). behind them were a line of several motorists, who seeing that they would now have to make (oh no!!!) a LEFT turn instead of going straight, began to honk incessantly.

oh yes, please mr fireman, stop lollygagging about trying to save lives and move your gynormous trucks out of MY way -- go back to your firehouse, make a pot of that chili for which you are so famous -- and read some of that fan mail from 9/11. i need to get my SUV into manhattan before the movie playing on the vcr with which it is equipped finishes and i am forced to give my child another ridilin. yes, move, get out of my way -- i am that most enormous of new york assholes who cannot take public transportation...

all this the day after massive rallies were help throughout the city to protest the mayor's plan to close several firehouses due to budget cuts.

7/4/03

today pnj took herself out for a little lunch. unfortunately her fancy grilled cheese and coffee experience was marred by a very disturbing sight. a woman sitting across from me was actually wearing a t-shirt that said, FUCK BOSTON RED SOX. there are times in life where pnj wishes she weren't such a big wuss...

3/4/03

well - fancy that -- pnj just saw **iman** the supermodel. may i take this opportunity to say that she is looking remarkably foxy for a lady of her age.

29/3/03

big pharma meets the richest computer geek on the planet

pnj just had a little phone chat with the janus-faced devil. and just as in movies like **bedazzled**, this devil has morphed into a very seductive guise, offering the promise of medical care for many in need (and of course some large homes with teams of servants for some not in need)...as always after talking to the devil pnj is left alternating between hope and despair in some sort of pointless loop.

28/3/03

mazeltov to me!!

pinky nice juice is probably the luckiest lady on the planet these days. next fall she will begin teaching at big state u -- a truly fabulous and fun place where the students number 30,000, professors wear jeans, and where one is not often subjected to academic terms like "inter-textuality" and "(gyn)-e-cology".

27/3/03

tonight pinky nice juice learned a little something when she experienced some sort of brain fart and ordered a margarita in an ethiopian restaurant. well, at least it was served in a martini glass..

27/3/03

through the looking glass... darkly

last night pnj was the only person at a table of four -- INCLUDING thatcher -- who did not agree that Hall and Oates were a great pop band. in fact, she was somewhat ostracized, but nonetheless stood up for her heartfelt convictions.

in fact, songs like, "private eyes they're watching you" ; "because your kiss is on my list" ; and "maneater" were all held up as evidence of their extreme talent.

i am without the words.

27/3/03

why must one, year after year, be forced to endure bill walton simply to watch a nationally televised basketball game? you know, in new york we enjoy the smooth stylings of walt clyde frazier almost nightly...dont network executives WATCH tv?

17/3/03

let sleeping dogs lie

pokey doesn't have many responsibilities. guarding the house in our absence and wagging her ass in an incredibly vigorous fashion upon our return, is pretty much her only job. upon occasion, however, we do manage to catch her asleep on the job. if one tiptoes up the side porch and quietly enters the house while she is still dead asleep (no easy feat)one can enjoy the unfettered amusement of seeing pokey completely embarassed.

17/3/03

as it turns out they have decided to change the two A&P supermarkets on Martha's Vineyard (the island where we sometimes live and are currently) to Stop and Shop. I am not at all certain how I feel about this...

"Humans have inhabited this world for several hundred years."

this alarming news, dear friends, was revealed to pinky nice juice by one of her students, who opens his essay for class with this all too telling statement....

9/3/03

i am so sick of academia i could puke.

8/3/03

building a better mousetrap

gross as it is, thatcher and i have been plagued by a certain small mouse for two months now. pokey, as it turns out is completely useless. we may as well have a platapus instead of a dog for a pet. anyhow -- driven by my repeated freak outs (usually broadcast while cowering on top of a chair) thatcher (a trained engineer, that ought to tell you something) has repeatedly tried and failed to prevent the mouse which lives in the wall (i'll call it singular: mouse, but it does seem to replicate itself remarkably even after thatch carries it outside with its little neck snapped in the trap) from entering chez pnj. well -- if pinky nice juice wants something done right -- she simply must do it herself it seems. with thatcher out of town for two weeks, and spying the mouse sitting in pokey's dish having a little snack (while pokey watched in a vaguely interested manner) there was no one to hear me freak out, and thus pinky nice juice was forced to take matters into her own hands. i wont go into details (though the feburary issue of W magazine, a binder clip, and some tin foil were involved), but let's just say i haven't seen hide nor hair of that mouse in over ten days now...

6/3/03_

thatcher is out of town so it is just pinky nice juice and pokey the dog alone for two whole weeks. truly when one is shackled to a roommate for the rest of one's life (joyous though that may be) there is no higher form of existence than being wholly on one's own for weeks on end, with the run of the place. there is the danger, however, of getting truly out of hand without a witness around to ground one. pinky nice juice reached this stage thursday evening when she found herself sitting on the couch, eating cupcakes, and singing along (rather heartily i might add) to the Simon and Garfunkel Concert in Central Park video that was playing on PBS. As it turns out, I know all the words...

1/3/03

it's almost like no one is going to bother saying anything or even noticing that david robinson is retiring this year. why? because michael jordon is doing it for like the 46th time and he sells men's underpants as a sideline. blech.

1/3/03

pirate's booty?

all i know is that pokey won't even touch the stuff. and she'll eat just about anything. who names a snackfood booty anyhow?

1/3/03

pinky nice juice used to be addicted to cigarettes. yes, from around age 12 to age 24 she consumed nearly two packs of cigarettes a day. eventually that just became too much of a hassle so i quit. now pinky nice juice is addicted to cookies (this includes cupcakes and brownies). much more wholesome and less smelly -- but a royal pain in the ass of a habit to support nonetheless. in fact, sometimes it seems that cookies are even more burdensome than cigarettes as there is the inevitable variable of choice. what kind of cookie to have? where to get it from? this can become ridiculously time consuming. there is the ever present danger of getting overly fixated on a particular cookie that is only available from a bakery that is fifteen blocks away, when in the end surely a nutterbutter or an oreo from the deli on the corner should suffice. i must say that it really doesn't help that thatcher is also addicted to cookies but won't admit it. i mean rarely buying cookies, but instead constantly sponging them off of me does not mean that one is not addicted -- only that one is not pulling their (considerable) weight.

20/2/03

Pinky nice juice is currently "on hold" waiting to speak to her doctor. (i guess that means i am "multi-tasking" -- how tremendously thrilling) Fortunately her doc has decided to keep pnj entertained with the mellow and moving rhythms of "Sometimes when we touch" (The honesty's too much). Which features such pearls as "I'm just another writer trapped within my truth." Yes, this makes pnj realize that I do, in fact "want to hold you till the fear in my subsides..."

20/2/03

last night pinky nice juice heard the most disturbing rumor that the knicks were considering trading latrell sprewell for keith van horn! i am without the words to describe how absolutely horrifyingly bad that would be. the mere thought leaves me completely disgusted.

20/2/03

well - its good to be back to blogging. your friend, ms. pnj has been terribly busy of late, and has missed you all considerably.

yesterday pinky nice juice donned several layers of pants, tops, socks, mittens, and coats and headed uptown with thatcher, amy, and bella to join the anti-war rally. this is quite surprising as pnj is one to avoid cold at all costs, and customarily more of a kibbitzer than an activist. anyhoo -- it was a rather incredible spectacle. somehow disturbing reminiscent of the cape seal colony on the Skeleton Coast in Namibia where pinky nice juice along with her best girls bo-ausi steph and kate observed the aggregation of more bodies in one place then we had ever before witnessedor could hope to imagine. on the way to the seal colony were we all desparately hoping that we would be lucky enough to catch site of a seal! that turned out to be a misguided hope. in fact, the experience left me with the fear that the seal population was so large that soon they would be taking over our cities and towns. you could come home from work and find a big furry brown seal sitting in your chair, eating chips and watching Oprah. there were seals everywhere, packed together in great heaping mounds as far up and down the coast as one could see. big honking blubbering stinking moaning seals. hundreds of thousands of them. anyhoo-- the peace rally was really nothing like that -- but sharing something with the seal colony in terms of scale.

16/2/03

let me put it this way. aaaaaaggggghhhhhh! pnj needs a day off.

sexist tech is revving up for its annual faculty talent show!! basically they are looking for acts under 7 minutes -- suggested "talents" include: impersonations, poetry, singing, dancing, ventriloquism...

you know -- this presents an unprecedented opportunity for pinky nice juice to revive her "routine" from junior high and display it to the math faculty at sexist tech. are you familiar with pnj's junior high routine?

well -- first you will be shocked to discover that pinky nice juice -- graceful swan that she is -- was in remedial gym in junior high. now don't feel pity -- she was later mistakenly ranked (by virtue of being able to run very very fast for 25 yards only) into the very athletic gym cohort in 9th grade and can therefore say with utter confidence after contrasting the two experiences, that remedial gym is where she belongs.

anyhoo back in junior high there apparently had been some state budget cuts or some such thing that led to the absence of the remedial gym instructor. without a trained professional on the scene it can be very dangerous and scary to let the students in remedial gym play actual sports not to mention dodge ball -- and certainly none of us was capable of climbing those ridiculous ropes -- so instead a different curriculum was devised. each student, after donning appropriate polyester shorts and t-shirt, was given a basketball. then the instructor (no doubt on loan from the art department) would play a recording of Donna Summer's Last Dance over and over, while we each devised a "routine" to the beat, involving such moves as bouncing the ball under one's leg, bouncing the ball, walking while bouncing the ball etc. it is actually a very challenging task -- as the tempo of the song does change partway through.

5/2/03

pinky nice juice is forced to read a lot of tremendously detailed and boring crap -- this after all is her job. but fortunately amidst the tediuous also lies the truly fabulous. the following i learned yesterday from Thomas Laqueuer in his book, Making Sex: Body and Gender from the Greeks to Freud (p. 174). I am certain that you too, dear friend, will also find it of great interest.

"For much of the period under discussion here [the 19th century], the role and nature of sperm remain obscure. Spallanzani had proven in the late eighteenth century that no amount of vapor from semen would fertilize frog eggs, that Harvey's aura seminalis was insufficient to cause the female mold to produce tadpoles, and that increasing filtrations of semen eventually rendered it impotent. He showed that naked male frogs mounting a female fertilized her eggs but that frogs wearing little taffeta trousers did not; he went on to demonstrate, furthermore, that the residue on their ludicrous garb was potent."

of equal delight is the fact that pinky nice juice was able to easily locate this passage in the index where it was listed under the heading: frogs, in taffeta trousers, 174.

2/2/03

this dog was made for walking, and that's just what she'll do. one of these days my dog is going to walk all over you...

hee hee

2/2/03

ponder this

why is sleeping on the couch so sublime by day and so crappy by night?

2/2/03

so pinky nice juice has just returned from two days of very intensive job interviews at big state u. though sexist tech certainly has its charms, miss pnj would very much like to move on to big state u. where there are many kindred spirits and lots of fun things going on. therefore it was indeed a certainty that at some point during the two day process pinky nice juice was bound to do something to reveal her true freakishly awkward self. this moment came last evening. after a full day and evening of interviews i rode the bus home with two fabulous young professors from the department in question. upon reaching port authority where we split up for different subway lines, one told me it had been nice to meet me and encouraged me to call her with any future questions. pnj for her part -- blew her a kiss. yes, dear friends, i did not thank her for her time, i didn't wish her a safe journey home, i didn't tell her good night. I BLEW HER A KISS thus identifying myself as the sort social deviant that you know me to be. oops.

30/1/03

speaking of childhood neurosis -- i also went through a phase where i liked to wear a hairnet. somehow i thought it was quite glamorous (????) and used to wear it to the dinner table.

30/1/03

pinky nice juice would like to take this opportunity to share a neurotic episode from her childhood. somewhere round about age seven or eight, i went through a period of some days in which, having grown increasingly worried about my responsibilities -- you know pressing concerns like unloading the dishwasher in the morning, and riding my neighbor's hippity-hop, i decided that in order to make sure there was enough time to get it all done it made sense to get dressed the night before for the next day and sleep in my clothes, thus giving me those extra ten minutes in the morning that enable one to get a jump on her day.(after a stretch of this mom called miss pnj on this and encouraged her not to take life so seriously).

anyhow why does this come to mind now? well possibly because your friend, pinky nice juice has such a big, long day tommorrow, so packed with stressful responsibilities and presentations, that sleeping in my clothing again comes up as a reasonable time saving option. unfortunately, it does not seem that a suit, would make for nearly as sound a night's sleep as that snoopy emblazoned danskin pants and t-shirt set from back in the day.

28/1/03

it is with great sadness that pnj has learned that yet another member of her high school class -- sarah pettit has died. sarah was one of the founders of OUT magazine, a terrific writer, and a most serious bad ass. though pnj was not particularly close with sarah pettit, nor have i spoken to her since we left school two decades ago - i still think it sucks completely that she is gone. i am also reminded yet again of so many friends who are also gone -- all of whom were young and shared a similar bad ass quality...

so dear friends -- let me remind you of the obvious -- that life is indeed short and unpredictable. try to take as big a bite as you can.

24/1/03

pinky nice juice is an early bird. in fact, i am often up long before dawn, hard at work, savoring a rich mug of freshly brewed coffee. that is except today. no this morning, with the weather substantially below zero -- in fact with all sorts of freakish warnings in the local media about the dangers of the cold (the sort of thing where folks from maine delight in watching us idiotic city dwellers panicking over nothing) pnj woke at 5:30 am from a restless and anxiety filled sleep in which she continually replayed the overwhelmingly long and scary list of things she must get done. well no time like the present, so miss pinky nice juice got out of bed, made coffee and opened the refrigerator to discover that there was NO MILK! Thatcher, my erstwhile husband and roommate it seems had DRANK all the milk last night.

let's take a poll. who out there DRINKS milk by the glass?? (those of you underage are disqualified).

no milk is for coffee, and should be treated as such, especially when the lack of it means that some of us must get dressed, leave the house in the pitch dark, and walk several frozen blocks to the lone convenience store that is open at such an hour.

anyone who dares insinuate that this is evidence of why pnj should forgo coffee altogether can come over to brooklyn and take it up with me in person.

23/1/03

pokey has a boyfriend and his name is frank.

22/1/03

today classes begin again for your friend pnj. what will the semester hold for me and my students at sexist tech? no doubt a lot of good times, warm smiles, and heart felt cheer, as we all bask in the golden glow of knowledge.

22/1/03

friends and sandwiches

today pinky nice juice had to hop in a cab as the subway conductor announced that he would be bypassing my connecting station "due to ongoing police activity." apparently someone forgot to tell the police who were nowhere in evidence, and the people waiting on the platform irritated that our slow moving train failed to stop and open its doors -- but i digress...

anyhow pnj hopped in a taxi wearing her giant black hairy hat (it is quite cold after all). the cabbie enquired as to whether pinkynicejuice had ever been to siberia. when i replied in the negative, he informed me that he had spent seven years there, and that hats like mine were all the rage there. in fact, this weather in new york was like spring to him -- we new yorkers are just a bunch of pussies to him -- now siberia, that was cold. pnj was gratified to establish that this time was spent as a professional musician playing in a bar there and not in some gulag. anyhow it turns out that this guy only misses two things from his homeland: his friends, and the sandwiches. apparently there you can get an amazing butter and caviar sandwich, and there is nothing else that can really compare.

though we were only on a thirty block ride, pinkynicejuice and her cab driver were also able to establish that they share the same ancestral home of Minsk, and that one can make a great deal of money carrying cans of caviar back home to nyc after visiting one's friends in Moscow. and also that his mother and grandmother had baked matzoh in the dead of night each year at passover hiding from the secret police, while my family bought theirs at stop and shop.

16/1/03

together at last!

pinky nice juice just discovered the joy of combining two of her favorite past times! eating peanut m&ms and shouting at the pundits on CNN.

13/01/03

Shania Twain or Faith Hill?

it is with great trepidation that pinkynicejuice, begins her day. i woke this morning with some horrifying female western (i wont denigrate the realm of country which i deeply admire with this taint) song about "passionate kisses" running an endless loop in my head. it is like being trapped in a sartre-esque shopping mall from which there is no exit. hopefully pnj's forthcoming trip to the doctor will not produce similar sensations of irritation and futility -- though pinkynicejuice fears that nothing good can come from a day that begins with shania (or faith)...

9/1/03

panda pushcarts

what if new york had a sizeable panda bear population? in fact, what if all the pushcart vendors were panda bears wearing little change aprons. they could just sit there and eat bamboo and do somersaults and then when people came by give em a dog with mustard and onions, or a good humor bar. i bet if that happened that new york would be famous for panda pushcarts and it would be featured in all the travel magazines. i think it would really make things much more fun, and give the city an adorable quality that it currently lacks.

in fact, speaking of pandas -- i saw a photograph in a magazine the other day (was it the NYTimes mag??) of a researcher who works at a panda research station in china. i guess there is a problem with low fertility among pandas -- especially those in captivity, and so this fancy chinese scientist was showing the caged panda a video of pandas having sex -- panda porn if you will. to show him how it's done. does anyone besides pinky nice juice think that is a bit bizarre?

7/1/03

tommorrow is a big day for your friend, pnj. tommorrow is the day that i leave behind all the frightening, disorganized, juvenile mess of my lifestyle and become one of the professional, efficient, pleasant people who doesn't have to wake up at 3 am worrying about where i put that paper my student gave me to read. tommorrow -- a PROFESSIONAL lady -- my utterly fabulous sister-in-law is going to come and create order out of the chaos of my paper-based life.

7/1/03

pinky nice juice is terribly disappointed in whoever recently received an original, hand knit, ***more than donuts*** scarf for the holidays and somehow failed to grasp the serious value of such a gift. the hours of work and thought, the creativity -- and for you the lucky recipient -- the utter fabulousness of knowing that you are the only one in all of new york sporting such a creation... get it together girl. get a grip.

7/1/03

yesterday pinkynicejuice wore her suit. this is never a good sign. really the best times in life are not spent while wearing a suit. (this of course is one of the fatal flaws (and dangerous warning signs) of weddings and bar mitzvahs and the like). pinky nice juice used to think it might be fun -- like being in a play or something, but actually it is more like being a poser for the day. i would note, however, that the jacket with pockets is extremely handy.

4/1/03

the diamond ring thing

today i went to buy wooly tights at the snotty rich chick's store in the hood --convenient -- and pinky nice juice is on her way to Chicago later this week and is sure to need all things wooly. there was a rather elaborate ritual going on in the middle of the store between the forty something lady with the ultra short chic haircut who owns the place and one of the regulars who, having gotten engaged last night, was now sporting half the total annual diamond export tonnage from Botswana (or more likely Congo)on her ring finger. gross.

note: while pinky nice juice is deeply respectful of the importance of the diamond economy to both Botswana and Nambia, she dislikes stupid, shallow, shrieking women. buy the diamond -- and shut up about it already.

31/12/02

trade offs

its lots of fun to give pokey a rawhide bone. she will take it and "bury" it all over the apartment. You will find it under your cushion on the couch in the morning, lying on your pillow at night, beneath your desk the next day, on her dog bed that afternoon. and if you pick it up and move it somewhere -- say OFF your pillow and onto her bed, she will get really annoyed and look at you with the kind of extreme suspicion that makes you suddenly aware of and mildly nervous about the bizarre nature of interspecial (or is it multispecial?) living. and then one day, seemingly at random she will begin to chew, and will lay there and dismember the thing until after several hours it is gone. but then the next day -- well then you feel a little guilty, because pokey wakes up constipated...

mitten miracles

a few weeks back pinkynicejuice celebrated the anniversary of her birth in grand style with the purchase of a pair of overpriced mittens with felt dog faces hand appliqued upon them (and a big shout out to mom who subsidised this extravagance with a generous birthday check). they really are the most fabulous mittens - and somewhat the envy of certain small children i know. anyhow last thursday, somehow i managed to lose one of them while walking pokey. this of course, sunk pinky nice juice into deep despair, reminding her (yet again) that she is simply too irresponsible to deserve something as truly special as a pair of dog mittens... but wait. this afternoon as pnj rounded the corner of her very own block, she spotted something lying there in the middle of the sidewalk -- smiling up at her. oh my goodness, my dog mitten was apparently trying to make its way home and somehow we met up only a half a block from the house (a half a block pnj had traversed at least a dozen times since that mitten went missing). somehow this reminds me of that book where the dog and cat walk hundreds of miles to get home and rejoin their family. a mitten miracle.

the man with the plastic hair

so pinky nice juice just had opportunity to watch trent lott's apology speech in its entirety. i believe i can sum it up quite easily for those of you who did not catch it. it went something like this --- it is ok that i, trent lott, am a mean spirited racist f-cker because i am a devout christian. pinky nice juice hopes very much that they send his plastic haired self packing. can you say newt gingrich??

13/12/02

on a day when the cardinal is forced out by the congregants and two guys punch moby in the face, pinky nice juice is proud to announce that she is from boston

13/12/02

dog noses they're long and their wet

dog noses they belong to your pet

dog noses digging in the snow

dog noses where did that dog pee go?

11/12/02

so it turns out that my plagarizer has decided to dazzle the dean and myself with several interrelated and truly fabulous aspects of his situation, which you will see below clarify the plagarism matter entirely. as it turns out, he was identified as a gifted child at the age of five. (and as with so many gifted children) this it seems is a tragically burdensome responsibility. in fact, he reads books and the internet and "cliff notes" and retains entire paragraphs of information, worded exactly as in the original. this, it turns out is terribly confusing as occasionally he forgets which ideas are his own and which he read somewhere and where. also, he gave the paper to his sister to "fancy up" while he did her chemistry homework, because she is really stupid and doesn't know anything except about fashion and shopping, and so she added four pages of plagarzied text into the paper, which he then inadvertantly and in a rush decided to add footenotes to, citing pinky nice juice's in class lectures as the source of the information, but never suspecting for a moment that the four pages his sister added were plagarized -- though in retrospect this was foolish of him, because his sister is too stupid to write anything except about fashion and shopping. you will not be surprised to hear that currently, he is not speaking to his sister.

10/12/02

well it's incredibly cold today -- forcing pinky nice juice to put on her pants over her flannel pajamas in order to brave the outdoors for pokey's morning ablutions. while initially this fashion inovation required a bit of struggle, after settling in it now turns out to be insanely comfortable and gives one something of a secret identity (guess what -- i am still wearing my pajamas...) i just might proceed to work this way...

this also reminds me of a rather bizarre event from second grade in which joey kelleher (who lived only three doors down from school) arrived one day looking a little odd. i distincly remember that his fly was in the back and the back pockets of his green toughskins with white stitching were in the front. joey it seems, had somehow managed to put his pants on backwards. about twenty minutes or so later, joey's mother appeared out of nowhere and turned his pants around.

4/12/02

stuffing

thatcher's mother makes the world's best stuffing. period. so if you think your stuffing rules -- forget it. i don't care if it has oysters or some other gross and inappropriate item that is oh so faux fancy. it could at best be a pale imitation. pinky nice juice knows -- she has had the world's best, and tommorrow she will have it again!!!!!!!!!!! ha!

27/11/02

the pathological, habitual, never-ending plagarizer

ah -- well, he is at it again. remember my charming student from a previous blog who saw fit to copy large sections of his paper wholesale from the web earlier in the semester. the same student who received an F on that paper and a warning that a repeat performance would result in failure of the class and a trip to the Dean's office? the same student who then asked if he could rewrite his F paper for a higher grade? the same student who yesterday asked me to let him into my already full class for next semester because he is really interested in the material. well somehow -- despite all of this mr. cheater (who i learn is a construction engineering major -- not a management major)has persisted in testing pinkynicejuice. this time of course with a clever twist. mr. cheater has again cut and pasted large sections (paragraphs) of text from the web, and then he has cleverly cited prof.p.n.juice and her lecture on the subject as the source of the material. no matter that the ideas attributed to me contain facts of which i was entirely unaware. if one is to steal, probably best not to pretend that one's stolen goods were actually borrowed from the police. surely you, blog reader that you are, realize that this is utter folly, some narcissistic, bizarre, pathological obsession with cheating and risk. who does this guy think he is? ted kennedy? no he is not -- and so pinkynicejuice will now have to turn him into the dean at sexist tech...this promises to be highly instructive...more to follow

26/11/02

pinkynicejuice confesses to the annoying habit of reading over the shoulder of the person sitting next to her. while this is indeed annoying, i do at times find it irresistable, and further, i find that one can learn many interesting things in this manner. today on the subway i was seated next to a woman in her late forties who was writing a To Do List. below are the top three entries on the list (pinkynicejuice cannot remember the entire list which went up to line 28 -- clearly this woman had many tasks to accomplish -- but you will get the gist of the myriad pressing things left undone by the following)

1. work hard

2. get rectal temp

3. replace glass

(pnj assumes the abbreviation in item 2 denotes temperature -- and not temporary help)

26/11/02

thatcher tells me that there is a big debate in the computer game programmer community about the need to develop a "specialized language" for game design so that computer games can be taken seriously as an art form...pinkynicejuice thinks this is a splendid idea -- yes the language of computer game programming is surely far too accessible to the masses. in fact i, like many others no doubt, often find myself sitting down and just writing a post to some computer game developer listserv on the finer points of textture mapping...and it is precisely because of that accessibility that i simply cannot take computer games seriously as an art form... (well except ms packman)

23/11/02

pokeythedog is going back on monday for a SECOND interview at the local doggie day care facility. as you can imagine we are all a bit nervous...

23/11/02

yesterday pinkynicejuice went to a fancy reception for a visiting scholar. free food, free libation, free edification, and apparently for a certain older ukranian gentleman in my department -- free chance to try and feel up the younger women professors! as you might imagine -- pinkynicejuice was terribly flattered to be the object of such affections. in fact, pinkynicejuice was almost forced to brawl with one of her fellow women co-workers over who exactly would be literally pinned up against the wall by said closetalking, closetouching, individual -- as he regaled me with tales of his horseback riding heroics as a young lad during world war II. as it turns out --sarcasm does not appear an adequate defense in such situations. i fear that pinkynicejuice must soon begin packing pepper spray at academic events...

19/11/02

a lesson in strategy from the new york knicks-

it matters not whether you lead in the third quarter. nor does it matter if you lead for most of the game. what really counts is that you blow it at the end and play like a bunch of overpaid, tired, desperate losers in the fourth quarter so that you can make sure and seal the loss each and every time.

in order to accomplish this:

trade a dynamic point guard (chris childs) and keep the one who tries to make the impossible dream shot rather than setting up the team one out of two times he gets the ball.

get a great center. make sure he is injured most of the time. trade him for a great center who is injured most of the time.

make a public stink about the only person on the team who consistently plays hard in each and every game. who doesn't talk trash about other players or the coach. try to alienate him as much as possible by separating him from the team.

pay a ridiculous amount of money to some pansy-ass pretty boy shooting guard who is afraid to ever get in the paint.

do all of this as soon as pinkynicejuice moves from boston to new york...

17/11/02

the committee meeting

well the aforementioned amniotic bubble (see blog below) burst rather abruptly upon my return to my university -- which i will call -- Sexist Tech for short. pinkynicejuice was recently nominated to the committee on women. (it has some acronym whose exact meaning i have forgotten). of course, i had no knowledge of my responsibilities to begin work with the committee, as Sexist Tech doesn't believe in informing people of their responsibilities or rewards, nor does it believe in collegiality -- if things get too social the engineers and math types begin to feel powerfully uncomfortable. instead one is more likely to receive an email about a previous meeting one has missed, and requesting that you begin attending these meetings at once. though working on academic committees generally sucks -- pinky nice juice breathed a deep sigh of relief to find that she was a recalcitrant member of the women's committee. after all, one must be on many committees, and at least if we were all women in the room that left less space for the other potential candidates, including the often ascot wearing (no i am not kidding -- ascot wearing), greasy lecherous, patronizing, innuendo wielding, dismissive, or other pathological elements that rule the roost at Sexist Tech.

one of our goals was to improve the child care arrangement at the school -- which is bad beyond belief. pinky nice juice could get behind that -- finally something good was in the works at Sexist Tech. well someone made the suggestion that we do an email survey to evaluate the demand and the priorities for these services among students and faculty. as it turns out this is not possible. in fact, in order to do such a survey we will need to have it undergo a review by the human subjects review board of Sexist Tech, to make sure that receiving an email questionnaire for which you are not compelled to respond, about whether you want to use day care and how much you can afford to pay for it, doesn't endanger email recipients in any way, nor does it infringe on their rights and dignity as people with email accounts. as it turns out, the women's committee has been down this road before. the review board does not like the idea of such a survey. thank goodness someone is looking out for the dignity and rights of people who dont want to receive an email from their employer/school asking their opinions on child care.

things brightened up a bit -- when we turned to the matter of "fundraising". yes it appears that in order to represent women's interests at Sexist Tech one must have a bake sale. as it turns out this year it will actually be a "treasure hunt" -- but you get the point.

11/11/02

pinkynicejuice just returned from an academic conference. you know, upon occasion it is great fun to just fly your geek flag with ultimate freedom, and to be suspended in some bizarre amniotic bubble in which one can intermingle with fellow nerds and observe the incredible social spectacle of the tribal meeting. lumpers, splitters, leaders, followers, kin, agemates, elders, and strangers, mavericks, deviants, big thinkers,small-minded bores, meticulous artisans,posers, and the real thing all mingling together and reacting to each other and avoiding one another and configuring ourselves into some semblance of order. a beautiful mess.

10/11/02

last night pinkynicejuice and her man attended a seriously posh housewarming party of an old college friend in a loft in soho. not only was the living room larger than our entire apartment, it was full of fancy people from the investment banking industry. there were some incredible outfits on display -- including a woman who was wearing seriously expensive black pants and a brown fur and leather vest as a shirt -- she looked like an incredibly wealthy version of captain caveman. and another chick in a thousand dollar butt-thong prominently displayed on her backside, her pants being so low that we essentially had little choice but to look her lace flossed ass straight in the eye (and a big menudo style shout out to my girlfriend audrey with whom I was enjoying watching smarmy, wealthy, middle-aged banker men line up to not so subtly ogle the thong) pinkynicejuice -- not having fully grasped the formality of the event, despite having received an engraved invitation, rolled up in jeans and a woodstock (the little yellow bird who was snoopy's buddy) sweatshirt. oops.

3/11/02

those of you who know me we will surprised and disappointed to hear that i will NOT be running in the marathon this weekend. so don't even bother looking for me in the lead pack.

1/11/02

can anyone explain the ridiculous logic behind the f-ing V train? pinky nice juice thinks not. yet every wednesday evening around 9:30 pm at the end of a fifteen hour day, pinky nice juice and the other suckers on the west 4th street F train platform stand patiently, waiting for the pokey little F train to carry us home. everyone is tired and quiet, until we hear the train coming. yes, here it is, at long last we are going home -- we are going to eat our dinner and pet our dogs!! -- that is until it rounds the corner and we all realize at once that we've been screwed again, and of course we are all a bit embarassed to have fallen for it yet again -- all at once a rather loud chorus of voices can be heard from across the cultural and age based spectrum of brooklynites on the platform-- as we all exclaim/mutter simultaneously -- "Fucking V train". this week someone spit at it.

1/11/02

Jam Master Jay... what can I say? Why do people suck so bad?

31/10/02

today pokey and i saw a most excellent thing. a parked truck from "Nick's Royal Flush Plumbing and Healting". well the pun is of course incredible and pinky nice juice was gratified to see both meanings displayed -- on one side of the truck was a nice painting of a monkey wrench holding a royal flush (diamonds)of playing cards. on the other side was a fabulous painting of some aging monarch, complete with golden crown, pants down sitting on the can.

23/10/02

two nights ago as i rode the half empty train home some peculiar things happened. first we stopped midway up the platform of a station. then the conductor got out (pinky nice juice was in the very first car) opened the front door of the train -- yes, it turns out they have front doors, jumped down onto the track and moved something. then she climbed back in, closed the door and pulled the rest of the way into the station. that's not all. it was like the lion the witch and the wardrobe or something. when she opened that door on the nose of the train, a door which had always been there, though no one ever thought to look, it was as if we entered into a magic world that looked quite similar to the everyday world, and yet shockingly different. the middle eastern men next to me, one of whom was in coveralls coming from work and the other in a leather jacket and acid wash pants, started sharing a small tub of handcream. pinky nice juice swears that they were total strangers up to this point. one just started putting on handcream and then he offered it to the man next to him and he took it and used it. and then afterwards he was gently sniffing his own hand. the seventy year old white haired man across from me, opened up a bag and started offering sandwiches to the supremely hot puerto rican girl and equally hot auto mechanic guy who were sitting to his right. they took them and started to eat them. i mean we were only stopped for a few minutes max and everybody starts acting like we live in mayberry?

18/10/02

here are the specials on offer at Donut House on Court Street -- conveniently located next to the Off Track Betting.

corned beef and cabbage

corned beef soup

corned beef sandwich

corned beef platter

Ah, Donut House -- apparently not just for donuts anymore.

17/10/02

yesterday on cnn with "wolf" blitzer (can this possibly be his name -- or did they assign it to him in hopes it would make him seem taller on camera?) i saw a poll. viewers were asked to call in and "vote" -- do you think the sniper is working alone -- or with a partner? that seems like a good idea -- the news should be more "interactive". i am not going to sit on my ass anymore and watch this sniper wreak havoc on the d.c. area -- i am going to get involved and vote. maybe a little democracy can solve the case.... wtf????

15/10/02

yesterday i graded papers. of course there was the inevitable student who despite all warnings on the syllabus and in class to the contrary persists in thinking that pinkynicejuice is too dense to discern the subtle differences between a paper written by a professional historian and one written by some bozo management major in his sophmore year of college. i know, it is a tad insulting. these students inevitably also think that pinkynicejuice and her kind haven't yet heard of the world wide web and don't know how to search it... inter-what? internut? oh -- interNET. c'mon. so i obligingly pointed out the paper's source and duly doled out an F and a little advice about the future. some thieves do in fact feel a twang of remorse or shame at this juncture, but not this one, who approached me after class to ask if he couldn't now rewrite the assignment for a better grade. is that what "management" is all about?

14/10/02

i have been so busy this week that there hasn't been much time for blogging. tuesday i was in a meeting with colleagues to discuss several new themes in the social sciences -- very academicky kind of thing with many concepts and the names of several european philosophers being bandied about. well of course i got a little overly enthusiastic and used the global market in carved dildos (for the aids prevention industry -- a fact i may have neglected to mention) as my example. (pinkynicejuice was in the room when people put two and two together and discovered such a market exists and so still feels kind of connected to the whole thing as you can imagine.). as it turns out, news of this emerging market is actually a conversation stopper.

10/10/02

do you ever think when you are sitting on the phone working your way through a maddening cycle of recorded messages and menus of options that lead to other recordings -- do you ever think that maybe this is a sign of the end of american civilization -- that we americans driven by the bottom line and strange notions of "efficiency" have so radically depersonalized our world that it may just collapse in on itself at any moment? we may just all start shoving old ladies to the ground to get to the front of the line, brawling over discount underpants, or start rubbing up against each other on the subway in some sort of quest for human contact, is this somehow connected to jerry springer? well pinkynicejuice has a news flash for you. it's not just america, or even "the west". we are not even the best at this particular form of technological passive aggression. i just spent a considerable amount of time navigating the phone menu at the chinese consulate of san franscisco. the best piece of guidance i got was at the end of a long tree of options i had traversed with my touch tone key pad -- a lovely recorded woman told me to visit the consultate web site. i did. the consulate web site told me in no uncertain terms never to call and bother the people at the consulate with my query. o.k. then.

7/10/02

tonight for dinner i am going to make an egg-salad sandwich on multi-grain bread with watercress, tomato, and bacon. i am so psyched about it i think i am going to plotz.

6/10/02

last night, after working all day and into the evening, i decided i needed to get a life and head out. well, being an insane geek these days, and having a hard time remembering what it is i like to do aside from work (could the knicks please start already?? -- and kurt thomas -- wtf????) i headed out for st. mark's bookstore in the east village, which my friends nick and jen turned me on to when they were visiting last spring. it is an amazing bookstore and i highly recommend it, especially if you are into social theory. anyhow, i have this wonderful grant right now where i get to buy 2k worth of books, which is a lot of books, and it kind of turns shopping into this ** the price is right ** phenomenon. (which reminds me that i learned last week on E entertainment television that bob barker, that sly silver fox with the amazingly slender microphone, is a massive dick. even though he is into spaying cats and all, i really wouldn't trust him. he has really screwed over some of "barker's beauties" as he likes to refer to the model's on the show. there are a gazillion law suits going on with it all even as we speak). Well, it was a very good time, and I managed finally to find a book that my friend Laura recommended called, The No.1 Ladies Detective Agency, which is about a lady-detective in Botswana, and is supposed to be amazing. (having read the first fifteen pages on the subway home, I can say that I have very high hopes). there were a lot of people in the bookstore, which made me feel better about being such a saturday night bookshopping loser, including a supremely glamorous and hip couple that was reading this illustrated history of pornography. no one seemed to be reading either of the two books about shit that were out on display. i wonder if people only order those by mail? then again that could get you on some strange mailing lists....

that is all. i have no point, but it's my blog and i don't have to.

6/10/02

kristen is right -- these dogless days are indeed desparate.

3/10/02

to whoever called my machine and left a message in setswana -- you didn't leave your name or number. is it you, morgan freeman?

3/10/02

today was only the second time that Jo (a psuedonym, it actually stands for jerk off) decided to attend class. beforehand he showed up at my office wearing headphones and a kind of dazed look and asked me -- where the class met (we are a third of the way into the semester)and so how much of the book should we read? (we don't have a book -- only a series of articles) i refamilarized Jo with the syllabus and the fact that he was over 400 pages behind in the reading, reminding him that in fact, he had a paper due today. he didn't seem concerned. i also told him the location of the class. this turned out to be a mistake. he found it alright, headphones and sunglasses on, music blaring, and sat at the back of the room. then for the next two hours he proceeded to be the biggest dick on the planet. at one point he stepped out in the middle of class --only to return 10 minutes later can of soda in hand and i do believe baked to the b'jeezus. by the end of class when all 30 of us were forced to listen to jerk off's -- i mean Jo's -- creative diatribe on why he hates getting bitten by mosquitos, pinkynicejuice was forced to engage Jo in a little battle of the wits -- yes pinkynicejuice can be far more sarcastic than even the most obnoxious of 20 year olds -- and as with the Beave's mother in that scene in Airplane -- in an emergency -- i can "speak jive". clearly this is penance for some long forgotten misdeed i committed back in my youth. make it stop.

3/10/02

today in class i taught my students all about the "fecal-oral route". it's actually quite important in public health.

30/9/02

there are a lot of very very cool dogs in brooklyn -- i mean a lot. bristly ones, and short ones, and some that ride around in the pocketbooks of super models, and wolfhounds, and fluffily ones, and tripod ones, and bad-ass ones, and even dogs that wear track suits and some are really mean and some are really nice and some are really glamorous, and they are ALL so incredibly fabulous.

brooklyn dog haiku:

what happened to Ed?
is that a muzzle?
did he bite somebody? oops

poo on the sidewalk
don't you look at me that way
pokey don't play that

lightening fast frank
snags pizza slice from gutter
yummy yummy yum

27/9/02

yesterday i went to the chinese consulate to "authenticate" our adoption papers --that's right -- pinkynicejuice is going to be a mommy. don't get too excited, it's still more than a year away.... anyhow it was a good walk over there, since you get to walk up 42nd street past the stables where they keep the police horses, to the very edge of manhattan -- 12th avenue -- from where you can see the boats and the water and it all suddenly seems different. on the way back i took a stroll through hell's kitchen and times square, had an awesome cuban sandwich and slice of coconut cake and then hopped on the train for home. i absolutely love new york.

27/9/02

attention network executives -- bring back **battle of the network stars** -- complete with tug-o-war, obstacle course, and simon says competition ---- let's see the cast of "7th heaven" take on "the hughley's"

27/9/02

do you have cable tv? if so then do yourself a favor, check out an E entertainment channel interview by "jules asner". they actually found someone so vapid that the celebrities seem really smart. in fact, when you watch an E entertainment channel interview by jules asner, you begin to feel like you are really in there with the star, you and gwynneth paltrow might actually have some kind of connection, you two have a little secret. now you might otherwise feel pretty snobbily towards someone like gwynneth paltrow -- why on earth would you want to hang out with her? but as you watch the interview you begin to think it actually might be kind of fun, you know what you would talk about --you both want to know --what's the deal with "jules"?

26/9/24

here are some people i miss:

r.i.p.

matthew cohn sheilah pule norah folkenflick

25/9/02

you might give some thought to the plan the cdc has come out with in the event of a smallpox outbreak/bioterrorism. Fortyeight pages of guidelines for the states to work out. Like the states have any money, or any public health capacity -- we privatized all that long ago. Yeah, the state of Louisiana is suddenly going to be able to vaccinate millions of people in ten days? I'm not saying that we are going to have a smallpox outbreak, but i am saying that this is kind of lame.

25/9/02

thanks to everyone who wrote me with the correct spelling for Sisqo.

24/9/02

the faculty meeting:

have you ever been to one? it would be pretty hysterical and all if it weren't really happening and this wasn't really how things got done.

sometimes i work in botswana -- a totally fabulous place -- and a big shout out to bo-ausi tota!! (all my ladies back in bots and you too steph). anyhow there i often attend bureaucratic meetings where people are very concerned with who speaks in what order and who gets a bowl of salty crax in front of them and who doesn't (have you had salty crax? well they are this very tasty cracker named after a sailor's ass that are quite popular there). and i often would sit at a meeting and think to myself you know, these guys with all their etiquette and rules and precedents and shit, its all just bogging them down. thank god i am from america, where we are all just a bunch of regular joes and shit it really going on (i know, but unfortunately these are the kind of self-congratulatory and misguided thoughts that american me sometimes has when i am far from home and feeling self indulgent, and my tswana friends put up with it because they are polite and good with children and because they realize that this kind of arrogance is usuall followed by a good bout of cultural self loathing). Well pride goeth before a fall and all that. If only we could have our meetings Tswana style, with salty crax and lemon creams and simba chips and fabulous hairdos and ululating where appropriate and perhaps a musical interlude...

apparently there's this thing called Robert's Rules of Order -- and if you weren't in "the model UN" back in high school or like me were back in bed with a bong hit and a drake's crumb cake the day they went over that one, well then you are about to be outmanouevered by some dandruffy old fart with food on his tie. the faculty meeting: where the small-minded prevail.

a very brief excerpt from the very long faculty meeting in which three faculty members put their respective phd's to good use in discussing a catalogue blurb (distortions of memory possible -- but not likely -- you really can't make this shit up)

"Uh no, I object to the use of the word 'recommended', it is all wrong, it should certainly be replaced with 'encouraged'."

"Well 'encouraged' is so weak, we may as well take the line out altogether."

"What do you mean get rid of 'recommended'? We discussed this at the last meeting -- its right here in the minutes. We certainly need to keep the word 'recommended', I mean how can we possibly be educating our students properly if we are only 'encouraging' and not 'recommending'." .....

what would happen right now if i stood up and started break dancing?

23/9/02

much to my surprise mrs. li from li's dry cleaners called me on the phone the other day. she's really nice, and later when i went in there, she told me that i was a good girl. so i have decided to use this blog to do a little advertising for mrs. li to reward her for being such a good judge of character. if you live in carroll gardens then go see mrs. li at li's dry cleaners on the corner of sacket and henry for all your laundering and tailoring needs.

21/9/02

today eliot and k-dunk moved to my neighborhood. yippee -- neighbors.

21/9/02

I've had a really long day. If you know me you will be shocked to hear that it is 10:45 pm and i am still awake. Well, I just got home from work and am currently relaxing with a mint-chocolate chip "tofutti cutie". Its like an icecream sandwich with a hint of a toothpaste quality, but in a good way -- and it is, in fact, adorable -- a real "cutie". Anyhow, I miss my dog. So here is a little song I like to sing to her -- this one's for you -- Poke....

(to a tune I know)

Dog noses,they're really really long
Dog noses, the subject of this song
Dog noses they like to sniff around
Dog noses they're all over this town

sniff sniff sniff
sniff sniff sniff
sniff sniff sniff sniff sniff
(repeat)

Dog noses they love to sniff the grass
Dog noses, they prefer to sniff dog ass
Dog noses, sticking in the air
Dog noses, love them if you dare

18/9/02

Thoughts while riding the A Train....

I'm not Sisqo, I don't want to see your thong.

17/9/02

Today in class I said "pissing in the streets". My students found this quite tittilating.

16/9/02

sometimes i wish i was pokeythedog. then when someone was mean to me i could pee on their carpet, or lie on the couch, chew on my bone for hours, and pretend it was their head.

15/9/02

How often do you clean your toaster oven? Maybe you never clean it, just let it all build up until the thing breaks....That was my plan, but for some reason just now three years into the project, I got the brilliant idea to really clean it. (these are the flashes of brilliance that come from working at home) I don't recommend it.

13/9/02

Note: I have decided to use the European date system (day,month,year) for my blogs -- since I think it really adds some class.