A Grain of Salt

Martha Rocha Cares About My Anaconda

Now that I've moved away from Berkeley, spam subject headers appear to be taking the place of bumper stickers as objects of my obsession (I no longer have to deal with quite as many exhortations to "Visualize Whirled Peas). I was just emptying out my junk mail folder and got one that might actually beat the "kiss of the womb" messages referenced earlier in this blog. Apparently "Martha Rocha" felt the need to invite me to "Grow an anaconda out of [my] trouser snake."

I especially like this one because it seems like it could be a gardening tip. Perhaps Martha works at Ace Garden Supplies and knows that I try to grow herbs. Could a "trouser snake" be a reference to a modern-day Chia pet, preseeded with tarragon? Is an "anaconda" an exotic new fruit?

Alas, her anaconda is less herbs-de-provence, and more Sir Mix-a-Lot. But still. It never hurts to dream.

This is the blog for Salt Magazine.

Latin in the Washington Post!

All right. Now that I've aired my Into the Wild grievances (which was surprisingly satisfying), here's what I actually wanted to write about: I just had a piece come out in The Washington Post about the annual summer convention of the National Junior Classical League. That is, 1,500 Latin-obsessed teenagers, parents, teachers and chaperones. (It was, in other words, heaven.) I also did a video of the conference, which I'm particularly psyched about.

But the best part so far has been the response -- I'm used to getting reader comments on Salon that say things like "you are disgusting" or "I'll bring the cheese, since you brought the whine." They make me feel so fantastically good about myself that I have stopped reading them. (I mean, really. I'd rather go eat real cheese and wine than read comments about what a horrible writer/woman/person I am.)

The response of the Latin community, on the other hand, has been fantastic. Freelance writers out there -- this is clearly the audience to highlight if you would like to feel good about yourselves. These are lovely people! And they say lovely things!

Amo Latinam. Multas gratias vobis ago.

This is the blog for Salt Magazine.

Into the Wild Got People Into this Blog

Whoah -- I was just about to write a different post and then noticed that my "review" of Into the Wild (where "review" is defined as "hating") has garnered more comments than any other post on this whole blog -- minus, perhaps, the "Ugg is for Ugly" fiasco of 2004. How exciting!

Several readers disagreed with me so strongly that they claim they'll never return to my "crappy website," (thanks, "Knark"!) -- and some people offered helpful suggestions, including the idea that I shouldn't go to any movie that might make me "feel or think," and that I might enjoy watching "Fantastic Four." (For what it's worth, I'm going to predict that I would hate that movie, too, but for different reasons.) My response: If you enjoyed Into the Wild, more power to you. Buy Krakauer's not-entirely-accurate biography of "Alex Supertramp," download the Eddie Vedder soundtrack, and hire someone to follow you around doing pretentious voiceovers of famous nature writers as you set off on a journey for your own magic school bus. All I am saying is that I, personally, did not like the movie and that it put me, personally, into a bad mood. If you loved it, and if you write comments about "Pure nature" in which the "P" is capitalized (for purity?) then that is fine. We probably would not be friends, and besides, you're right: in this case, I am indeed a hater. That does not actually mean that I would like to be an entertainment lawyer -- though if I were to become one, I suppose that might give me the training necessary to take legal action against Sean Penn's horrible movie. Not because of trauma, as Sam suggested, but for suckiness.

This is the blog for Salt Magazine.

Recreational Vehicles

So, I just booked an RV for an upcoming trip to Alaska, and it's making me freak out a little bit. (Bonnie Sue, yes, Alaska. I have to ask you for suggestions.) Because here's the thing: I don't like driving *regular* vehicles. The concept of navigating a 24-foot vehicle -- a vehicle large enough to include a bed and toilet and still have room for a flat screen television -- sounds absolutely terrifying to me.

I'm wondering if anyone has suggestions on this. I mean, on the one hand, I think it sounds fun -- the rental fee includes fishing poles, for god's sakes. Where in New York would a rental car include fishing poles? But on the other hand, I am imagining myself trying to navigate down narrow Alaskan highways on roads crammed with other people who also do not know how to drive RVs, and I am a little scared.

The other thing I have realized, in this Alaska planning, is that visiting Alaska in July is like going up to someone and handing them your wallet and pin number. They *hose* you. This RV rental company had an ad on its website saying that if you booked now, you could get a 25% discount on July, and a 50% discount on May, June, August and September. Sounds great, right? But can you really call something a "50% discount" if it's offered for nearly half the year? Because here's the thing: Very few tourists come to Alaska in January and ask to rent an RV (freezing weather! snow! four hours of daylight! let's go!). So it doesn't make any sense for the January rate to actually be higher than the July rate.

By my logic, this means that the "normal" January rate is just a hypothetical charge -- like, if some idiot wanted to rent an RV to tour Alaska in February, more power to him -- he'd just have to pay the RV equivalent of a "stupidity tax." Traveling to Alaska in July, on the other hand, represents a different type of stupidity -- I've decided that tourism in July has replaced whale blubber as a way that Alaskans protect themselves against winter starvation.

Anyway, my real point is this: RVs are, by their very nature, somewhat ridiculous creations that I also find quite scary. And yet, for some reason ("adventure"? the inherent hilarity of me in a recreational vehicle?) I just booked one. Stay tuned.

This is the blog for Salt Magazine.

Tiger Pigs. Rowr.

See? Just when I worry that finding things to write about each day might be difficult, Natalie ups and sends me this link -- of baby pigs playing with a tiger. I cannot stop looking at this. It is up there with the giant rabbit picture from North Korea that I put up a while back. My question: Where did they get the tiger suits?

This is the blog for Salt Magazine.

Holiday Spam

I've decided to make a preemptive New Year's resolution and get back in the swing of the Salt blog. In that spirit, let me pose a question to the remaining one or two readers who still frequent this page (Jim, Dad and Bonnie-Sue, I'm talking to you): What is up with the subject lines of spam messages these days?

The subject matter of these emails appears to still be the same -- penis enlargement, cheap prescription drugs, Swiss Rolex watches -- but their subject lines themselves are getting quite bizarre (and explicit). Not so much with the drugs and the watches -- more with the penises. I don't think I've ever heard as many disturbingly creative ways to advertise penis enhancement products. For example:

-Have you ever felt the kiss of a womb? You will with your new huge rod.
-Turn your small knob into a huge meat stick!
and, just this morning,
-Turn your trouser mouse into a monster schlong!

I don't know what everyone else out there wants for Christmas, but if I were to have a penis, I don't think that "huge meat stick" or "monster schlong" would be on the top of my list for Santa. I mean, really. Are they just trying to get around the spam filter? (Apparently Yahoo mail is too clever for monster schlongs -- that one went straight to bulk mail.) Or are there some teenage spammers in Russia somewhere who are getting really bored (and/or have recently seen the movie Superbad)? It doesn't make sense.

Not too much else to report from around these parts. I made my first  stew yesterday. It had beef chunks in it and dumplings in it, which sounds like it could be made into some sort of spam message itself (turn your fluffy dumpling into hot beef!). Turned out pretty well, but the whole house still smells like pot roast. The best part about it, though, was the epicurious comment board in which 124 people weighed in with their thoughts on the dumplings. Opinions varied wildly. Some claimed this was an instant family classic, that people were clamoring for the dumplings, that next time they'll triple the recipe because everyone wanted more. Others described them as too fluffy, doughy, dumpling-y.

Personally I found them to be exactly what you'd expect if you took dollops of homemade Bisquick and dumped them into your stew -- sort of tasteless fluffy things that were satisfying because they sopped up the stew and gave your body a quick fix of carbs. But I liked the spirit of the dumpling commenters. They really seemed like they cared.

This is the blog for Salt Magazine.