Rotate the foodstuffs!

So, almost a year and a half ago I bought a pair of Chaco Z/2s.  They're absolutely the best shoes I've ever owned -- amazingly comfortable, rugged, durable, and they can be resoled (they're quite due for a resoling, actually).

There's only one problem -- I've had this pair since March '06, and by this point they've acquired a stench that threatens to take on a life of its own.  I mean, it's BAD.  I sit at my desk at work and think "Oh Jesus.  Is that me?"  And this is when I have my shoes on, so the stank is somewhat contained.

I've tried scrubbing them a couple times, but it's pretty much ineffective.  So tonight I went looking on the internet to discover how to deal with the problem. 

Turns out I'm a moron.  If I had just looked at their website (or for that matter at the literature that came with the shoes, I suspect), I would have found out that the proper cleaning method is... the washing machine.  Just throw them in with the laundry every couple weeks and then let them air-dry. 

So my shoes are in the washer right now.  I'm so excited!  I can't wait to (not) smell them.

This weekend is one of the first in a long time that I've been home, instead of gallivanting around the country or recovering from camp (or preparing for camp) or whatever.  As such, I've really been having a good time just relaxing.  Today, I went to Highland Coffees for the first time in a long time, the better to sit around, read, and drink coffee and tea.  I was most excited, since I'd received Middlesex  on Friday (and thus it begins!), and I was looking forward to a nice long session of caffeinated reading, sitting in the warm Louisiana summer air under Highland's bower.  Mmmm.  Anyway, getting to the subject, today I was wearing a shirt that was given to me by Dr. Ancelet.  It has text on it in French.  While I was getting a refill of dark-roast coffee (mmmm), the barista asked me what my shirt said.  I responded "Speak French on purpose!"  It was only as I was walking away that I realized I had answered the pragmatic question, not the actual one (that is to say, I had responded as above, telling her what the shirt meant in our lingua franca, rather than saying "Parle français par exprès!", which is what the shirt literally says).  The amusing fact is that I was, in a way, actually acting directly counter to the instructions of my shirt.  No real point, just recounting.

Middlesex, by the way, is wonderful so far (about a third of the way through).  I should expect no less, of course, since it's been recommended to me not only by national reviewers (and the awarders of the Pulitzer Prize) but also by rnbowpixy; personal recommendations carry a lot of weight.  It is absolutely nothing like I expected, but in a very good way.  Rather than being a stridently political book about an intersexed person (which I foolishly expected), it's a broad-reaching symphonic study of sexuality, love, immigration, and a myriad other topics that all combine to make up human nature.  Beautiful.

Last night Shane, Rebecca, and I went out to eat at J. Alexander with two of Rebecca's fellow TFAers.  I'd noticed the restaurant over by the Mall of Louisiana earlier, but hadn't really given it a second thought.  225 Magazine, however, recently ranked it as having the second-best salads in the city, and thus was Rebecca's curiosity piqued: as an Orthodox Jew, she eats a lot of salads when she dines out, since they're one of the few safe things.  J. Alexander's turns out to be a somewhat upscale steakhouse/Americana place that I found to be very pleasant.  It's got a very fancy feel without being overly stuffy or pricey, which I appreciate.  The cheeseburger I had was one of the best I've had in a long, long time, juicy and savory and full of beef flavor.  The wine also made me happy; I got a quite reasonably priced Côtes du Rhone, which was quite tasty.  Course, the tastiness was only enhanced by the fact that they serve all their wines in -- wait for it -- Reidel!  I mean, Christ, what restaurant in the 15$ non-steak-entree price-range uses that level of glassware?!  Very fun.  Even if the waiter was a little flaky, but I'm over it :)

My parents had been in earlier in the day to steal away my bed.  See, I had no plans of taking it to Ohio, and my brother's moving to a house off-campus in Austin this year, so he's getting it.  Mom and Dad drove from Nac, took me to lunch, helped me transport a dresser I bought home, packed up the bed, and drove back, because my whole family is crazy; we don't think that much of driving 10 hours in a day.  Did I mention lunch?  Yes.  I hadn't been to Parrain's in a while, and I was very happy to go there.  I hope they enjoyed it like I did -- I had the barbecued drum like last time I went there, because it's so. damn. good.  Our waiter... this is weird.  I got friended by this guy on Facebook a couple weeks ago, but I declined it (because I don't know him) and thought nothing more of it.  So yesterday, our server is greeting us and I'm thinking "he looks really familiar!  why?"  The bill comes with his name and... ah, it's him.  There we go.  So odd.

Also, did I mention a dresser?  Why yes I did.  The parents also took my dresser, which is a primary colored wooden thing that's been in my room since my childhood.  In its place, I now have a faux-pine chest of drawers, straight from your friendly neighborhood Wal-Mart.  About ninety bucks and three hours of assembly later (it took forever because my Phillips head screwdrivers seem to have run away, leaving me with only a multi-tool to work with), I now have a nice looking dresser that doesn't make me feel like a juvenile.  There was also a lot of cleaning involved, as you can see from the pictures below.

( Pictures )

Friday night was also a night of fun and food (that seems to have gone on a lot this weekend, wow).  Erin, Katie, Mandi, and I started out by going to Waka House, a new sushi place out at Sherwood Forest & Coursey (give or take).  The sushi was quite good, and the value was wonderful: we ate until we were nearing stomach rupture, but we only spent 15$ plus tip apiece.  That's... shocking.  I mean, really.  Yay!  We continued by going to Hole Experience, where Katie and Mandi intended to get piercings.  Unfortunately, there were some issues, and it didn't end up happening, but still it was good times.  We had planned on going to see Clerks II, but it appears that it's no longer showing in Baton Rouge :(  I do note that it's still showing in New Orleans, but apparently only until Thursday?  So I guess I'll have to wait for it to come out on DVD.  Instead, we wet to see Pulse.  It was't a bad little flick, as dystopian cyber-horror goes.  I do have to say it was the most bizarre depiction of Columbus, OH I've ever seen.  I realize they were probably trying for a representative city of average Middle America, but... well, Columbus just isn't that urban of an urban space.  Sure, it's definitely a city, but that whole tenement-y buildings everywhere, full of urban angst and disquiet shtick?  Not so much.  Very amusing to those of us that know the city.

And now, finally, I think I've come to my conclusion.  Huzzah!

So, Kregg last week had made some passive aggressive comments about the bathroom needing to be cleaned.  I had figured, fine, whatever, I'll clean it Saturday.  Then he up and started cleaning it on Friday, to which I could only say "uh... I was going to do that tomorrow."  "No big deal, you can do it next weekend."  Fair enough, fair enough.  Shared duties and all that.

Fast forward to today.  It had totally slipped my mind that I was going to clean the bathroom this past weekend (because... sorry, but I generally don't do a weekly cleaning of the bathroom.  I just don't, it's not necessary to my mind).  Kregg asks me wasn't I going to have cleaned the bathroom this weekend?  I replied, quite honestly, that I had meant to, but it slipped my mind.  He requests that I do so "as soon as you can."  There was a tone thing going on that carried a meaning close to "you are entirely unhygienic."

Bitch, please.  On my way back from translating at Perks today (almost 25 pages, including one quite long poem that had some really crazy stuff going on, rock on), I picked up some Comet and some toilet bowl cleaner, because all we had was some Clorox all-purpose spray and some Windex.  And I'm sorry, you cannot clean a tub with Clorox spray, no matter what the bottle says: it will not get the job done.  Even more so, you can not clean our hard-water-stains-and-other-such-madness tub with a spray, that baby needs scouring powder.  This is evinced by the results of his cleaning last week, which took a long time and had *looks both ways carefully* no discernible effect.  Seriously, how can you be so manic about bathroom cleanliness and yet so not effective at cleaning?  Obviously you didn't have my mother.  She may not have managed to get me to clean the bathroom regularly, but by God when I did I knew what I was doing.

I cleaned the tub, the sink, the toilet, and the floor, then went on to empty the dishwasher and deal with the gross pile of dishes in the sink (rinse, people, rinse!  Caked on peanut-butter and chocolate milkshake is disgusting!) while I was in cleaning mode.  Total time elapsed for both rooms?  A little over an hour.  I am a domestic god, and the tub is shiny white.  You could eat off of that tub.

So take that!  The bathroom's... um... clean to your obsessive-compulsive standards.  Woohoo, I really put one... over... on you... didn't I...?  *sigh*  I can't win.