Monday, December 13, 2004

"Moreso" is not a word and other lessons learned.

I'm 23 now, and I can admit when I've made a mistake.

"Moreso" is not a word. Until today, neither my boss nor I had any idea that was the case. We'd both used it as a word many times, then today the subject came up, so we consulted several dictionaries and Google, all of which shot us down.



We spent my birthday in Santa Cruz, mostly with Kevin's dad and his girlfriend. We hiked around Nicene Marks for a couple hours, made curry, and ate a crazy chocolate mousse cake thing from a local bakery that was to die for. (Really. It could probably kill you. But it was really good.) Then Kevin and I did a little Christmas shopping at Bookshop Santa Cruz and visited his mom before heading home in the wee hours of the morning.

I convinced him to come see I Heart Huckabees with me on Sunday afternoon. It's playing at the second run theater for a trifling $3.50.

Also, his coworkers have set up a website where they can ask him questions about being vegan. They call him Tofu. It's very amusing, but I'm not sure I'm at liberty to share the link. And also, it's Monday, which is a night of extremely terrible network TV, and I am watching probably the worst of the lot, which causes me to yell at the TV.

There are two work-related holiday parties this week, one of which requires me to dress up and socialize in the evening. Obviously, Kevin is not going to join me, because he doesn't do that kind of thing. The other one is a lunchtime potluck and Secret Santa gift exchange. I got a present for someone I barely know. I'm going to make hummus and bring pitas and pearl tomatoes.

This is a very boring entry, no? I don't know. There's isn't that much to discuss. I should go make some food involving this odd assortment of vegetables floating around my kitchen: beets (with greens), cauliflower (which I chopped up and froze yesterday, so it's not an imperative), zucchini, spinach, mixed greens, snow peas, and a yam. I'm thinking of roasting a few of those things, or making a beet-based soup and cooking some barley. I don't know.

GOD I hate these fucking McDonald's commercials. Almost as much at the Old Navy Christmas jingles. Those make me want to throttle my TV.


Anonymous said...

this reminds me.
i always get excited about your birthday and want to say something (which i failed this year), but i get yours and your mother's mixed up. your's is the 11th and her's is the 13th, yeah?

(happy birthday!)


emily said...

mine is the 11th, but hers is the 12th. you were close! ;)

and hey, i moved to another damn STATE for your birthday, though i did visit shortly beforehand.

Julie said...

Em-Happy Late Birthday! Your birthday is my half birthday. But my birthday is still my birthday. :)

Anonymous said...

Woo hoo for your birthday!

By the way, I need to see these McDonald's commercial, 'cause nothing, *nothing* is worse than those damned Old Navy ones.