Ultramundane.com -- It's Just Not Natural.

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Thursday, February 5, 2004

I Prefer Them Uncut.

Someone I spoke to recently was extolling the virtues of Mochi, a brown rice I don't remember who, nor what they said. But while I was wandering the aisles, mesmerized, at the newly opened Whole Foods last week I suddenly found myself with a package of it in my basket. I finally opened the package to have with dinner on friday.

The package tells you to cut the mochi into 1- to 2-inch squares. What they don't tell you is that the stuff is as hard as particle board. I put down the steak knife I was holding, attacked with the "good" kitchen knife first, and then resorted to the bread knife after I had done nothing more than score across the veneer of the rice. As I sawed away, the serrated blade began moving dangerously. Time suddenly shifted into slow motion; I knew that I was in imminent, unavoidable danger of cutting myself and all I could do was watch. I saw the knife draw slowly across the back of my finger and nail, though not too deeply, thankfully. I was getting the first aid kit out before the blood had even accumulated on my cuticle.

As I bound my fingertip tightly with a bandage, I shot dirty looks at the cutting board, wondering if all this was going to be worth it. A phrase suddenly jumped into my head, showing where my mind has been lately: "These had better taste like porn stars coming in my mouth." I had meant it metaphorically. The universe delivered, but did so much more literally¹. Be careful what you wish for.

In the meantime, if anyone would like to try the stuff, come on over. Bring your own circular saw.

(¹ OK, that's a bit of dramatic license. The squares bake into the consistency of a popover, hard and crusty and hollow with a moist, slightly sticky interior coating. But actually the plain mochi squares taste mostly just bland; they seemed more like a rice cake that someone has washed, rather than the cracker in a frat house.)

03:57 PM PST (link)

Wednesday, February 4, 2004

Slash-Dotted, Farked and Googled.

As you might have seen, Google yesterday celebrated the birthday of Mathematician Gaston Julia in its header graphic. Which is pretty cool, unless your site of cool 3-D fractal renders is on the first page of hits and your site traffic skyrockets. Yeah, I know there are a lot of worthy causes to support besides some stranger's hosting fees, but if you like his renders, you might consider a donation.

(I still think Micropayments can work. Hey, if people are willing to spend 99 cents on a song, why not 25 cents on an online comic?)

08:52 AM PST (link)

Monday, February 2, 2004

Look, My Eyes Are Dry....

Now, I am not the butchest thing on two wheels, but I do have to say that this year the game was ~~gay~~ more interesting than the ads. (Good ads were the NFL's "Tomorrow," Staples' "Randy The Supply Supervisor," truth's "Shards o' Glass" and an honorable mention to Monster.com's "Find The One You Dig"). The game was actually kind of exciting...especially by comparison.

I also feel a little dirty, that any credibility I had of "I only watch it for the commercials" has been tainted. (And I only read Honcho for the articles, too.) I mean, I actually knew what a two-point conversion was without the Boyfriend explaining it to me. I feel cheated—that I was somehow tricked into watching televised sports. Even if the halftime show was the most homosexual thing ever, Janet's boob notwithstanding. (Or perhaps included.)

If I break into a chorus of "What I Did For Love" now, will that help balance things out?

12:22 AM PST (link)