   |
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Question (actually it's more of a Demand...):
"For your birthday, your aunt gave you a maple syrup dispenser shaped like a rooster. Please write her a thank-you note." Before I get writing on this, I'd like to note that none of my aunts would give me this. I'd like to think that they each know me well enough to give me something I'd enjoy and not some random item. But, here goes... Dearest (Aunt), Thank you so much for the gift! I know that with your busy life that getting me a gift must have been so out of the way, but I truly and genuinely appreciate the gesture. In reality, when I first got the package in the mail I wasn't sure it was from you because of the packaging; you usually have such impeccable wrapping skills, but I suppose it was dinged up in transit. I also must admit that I had no idea what it was and what it was for when I first opened it, but do forgive me, it's not everyday you get a ceramic rooster in the mail. While it did arrive a few weeks after my birthday, I still love it. You know how I love my pancakes! Surprisingly I only came to the realization of what it was after a friend visited and told me what it was, that's why this is coming in so late. I first thought it was just a pitcher for drinks, but I noticed that it didn't hold too much liquid. I figured then that it was an interestingly shaped pot for flowers and plants, but I learned the hard way that vegetation usually like sunlight to bathe them, rather than peek in through a tiny slit. Call me daft, but you know me! You'll be glad to know that every time I've had pancakes since figuring out its function I have been using it. Although it does become rather tedious to transfer the syrup from the cute Mrs. Butterworth's bottle and into the actual dispenser, it does, admittedly, add a touch of quaint homeyness to my breakfasts (and dinners). Ah! This was so long-winded for just a simple thank-you letter, but I really love the gift. I hope all is well with you over there. I hear the weather is absolutely sublime this time of year, so maybe I'll come visit? Give my regards to everyone there. Your Nephew, Jazz Labels: Jazz
Saturday, September 12, 2009
Question:
"You forgot your mom's birthday! What can you make out of super glue and olive pits?" Again, I'm so happy to get the crack-addict questions. (PEW PEW! SARCASM SHOOTER!) Answer: Honestly, I like to believe I'm a fairly crafty person, and even with olive pits, I might be able to create.... something unique. However, super glue is the death of me so I'd have to go at this with gloves, and apron, and goggles, just to make sure I don't glue my eyelids shut. To start, let's analyze the situation. It's my mom's birthday, so these olive pits and glue can't just turn into anything. I will have to take into account my mother's wants and needs. So, let's brainstorm. What does my mother like? Knitting, spinning, alpacas, Elton John, yarn, books on tape, healthy foods, a son who does what he's supposed to do. Just to name a few. Now, looking at the list, I'm pretty sure that I can't make an alpaca, Elton John, a book on tape, or a son who does what he's supposed to do. Healthy foods.... Olives aren't healthy. They're sitting in an oily brine for most of their life, and my mother doesn't particularly enjoy olives. I figure I could spin her some yarn if olive pits had some sort of fiber within them by which to spin. But honestly, that doesn't sound too appetizing. So, we'll have to get creative. Seeing as I'll have plenty of olive pits (I assume), I should also have a variety of olive pits, correct? I'll have Kalamata Olives, Amfissa Olives, Black Olives, Green Olives, Brown Olives, all shades of olive. This is a necessity. So too is a transparent, anti-stick-to-humans, super glue. That way, I can complete this incredibly epic planning. Also, I'll need someone who can get in contact with celebrities. I'd start with a base. A cube made of some sturdy material, just the right size for the attempted piece of olive-pit-scupltury. I'd cover the cube with olive pits, with such precision that the cube's original material is unnoticeable underneath the particularly spectacular mosaic of olive pits. At this point, I'm ready to call Elton John's agent so I can get him to pose for me. With his eponymous blind man shades, of course. And so I would start the incredible process of creating an Elton John of olive pits. The pits color is essential at this point. Purplish pits (I know they exist, I've seen them before) will help with creating the shades. The accessories should be easy with a little patience. At which point, the man of the hour should have arrived. It's my mother's birthday, so I would need a severe level of dedication and speed, which is something I am particularly well known for having. (PEW PEW! There goes that Sarcasm Shooter again.) Anyways, I'd probably go for a nude sculpture. My mother would enjoy that best. Hours would go by, me being profusely bored of having to imagine Elton John naked while I require he keep his clothes on. Of course, this whole fantastic engagement would be occuring in my cramped bedroom, so, undoubtedly, before I had even finished crafting Elton John's feet, my mom would have barged in trying to interrupt whatever level of serious work I was doing, just because that's what she likes to do best, and would immediately notice Elton John standing in my room and would probably begin yelling and running around and asking him if he wanted something to eat. Yea. She'd get a two-in-one kind of deal. Elton John AND a son who does what he's supposed to do. Labels: Tristan
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Question:
"Your people want to make a statue in your honor. What will it be made out of and what victory will it commemorate?" As if I need a bigger ego, right? I suppose this question is more of a reflective one, pulling on the strings of what makes me unique, and what sets me apart from the crowd. I've talked to my mother before about what it takes to get a street named after you, but I never really wanted an entire statue made of me. It just seemed a little excessive, but praise is praise, I suppose. I try to be humble most of the time, but I'm not one to shy away from the lime light, especially if it means something made in my memory. At best, I suppose the only statues that will be made of me will probably just be my tombstone when I die. That counts as a statue right? I expect some marvelous marble slab with a fairly poignant epitaph engraved in a beautiful font, but who knows, I might get something better. However, if the sky's the limit and "my people" care that deeply for me I'd like my statue to be made of the souls of infant children, harvested via a monthly ritual sacrifice. Or is that too extreme? I suppose granite will suffice, or onyx, with jade or emerald embellishments. Yes, that sounds quite pleasing, if you think about it. I'm such a fan of the color green that something as regal as those materials would make for a lovely statue depicting me in some triumphant pose, perhaps with a misconstrued grimace. What I've been stalling to discuss is the reason for this statue's existence. To my knowledge only those of glorious merit are rewarded with a statue in their image, so is it fair to be in the ranks with Abraham Lincoln and a myriad of other influential people? I'd like to say that I'm a wonderful philanthropist. I'd like to say that I'm an entrepreneur for peace and justice, but really, I'm just a writer. So put a pen in my statue's hand and I suppose that will be it. Maybe I'll write some life-altering, time-transcending novel about the tribulations of a teenager, but not even Salinger got a statue. Labels: Jazz
Monday, August 31, 2009
My turn! Its been so long! Just got back from a lovely three day weekend trip that was truly amazing. I'm officially ready to get down and write for all you people!
Question; "Why don't you ever wear a scarf? It doesn't need to be cold outside for your neck to feel naked." Answer; I'm so glad that I have a reasonably appropriate question this time. The truth of the matter is that I don't wear scarves. Ever. I have like... two scarves and I only break them out when absolutely necessary. The first scarf I ever bought was at H&M and it is this dark gray number that was woven in this really cool plaid pattern. I had liked it originally, but like... as soon as I had worn it for one day, my friends started talking about how it was a keffiyeh and it had this whole other meaning and they were sorta making me feel ignorant as to the war that is going on in the Middle East. However, since I can never fully come to realize my ignorance just because people try and tell me that I don't know the messages that I relay through my clothing or whatever, I went and researched these keffiyehs and I quickly found out that this scarf I bought looked nothing like a keffiyeh except for the fact that it had tassels on the end of it. Anyways, even though I found this out, I just completely stopped wearing the scarf because people keep on talking to me about it and I don't want to hear the same redundant story over and over again. Of course, in reality, I support the message behind the keffiyeh, but I figure since I'm some white teenager, I must not know anything at all about that stuff. Anyways, as for my naked neck, I constantly tell those who I talk fashion to that I just can't rock the scarf. And, if you know me, a cold neck is nothing compared to looking good. In all honesty, if I found a way to wear a scarf in a reasonably fashionable fashion, I would like... rock it night and day, 24/7. But I cannot imagine how one would go about wearing a scarf while sporting tees and skinny jeans. I've tried it before and I just look pretentious. Plus there's the whole deal about matching colors because I hate super sporadic color schemes and I always focus towards the monochromatic schemes or contrasting colors, with occasionaly mixes, but I definitely don't like going past like.... two colors in an outfit or something, and all the scarves I see are either super colorful or super bland, neither of which I am particularly keen on wearing. However, if anyone happens to know of a nice scarf to add to my remote, infinitesimally small collection of accessories, I would love to hear about it. Who knows? Maybe my neck will start having some clothes of its own. Labels: Tristan
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Question:
"Describe the sound of a moist waffle falling onto a hot griddle." This is a fairly interesting question, to say the least. Now, I've got to be completely honest, I haven't eaten waffles all too often, and whenever I have eaten waffles they were made by one of those nifty, futuristic, chrome waffle makers that take batter and after a few flips yield some perfectly latticed carbohydrate creation. I was never really a fan of those Eggo waffles just because they were already made. In this day and age I try to avoid things that already come pre-packed because I just feel it loses its authenticity sometimes. Now, I understand that not every one is a culinary master, nor do I claim that I am one, and yes, there are times where using a packaged meal is actually the wiser choice, but with the amount of preservatives in it, I try my hardest to avoid these products. But I digress. Whenever I've had the opportunity to eat these Eggo waffles I don't think I ever fried them, but I imagine the sound of a moist waffle against a hot griddle must be some sort of erotic and passionate sound. Some believe that the word moist in and of itself is already a rather controversial word, while a hot griddle only adds more sizzle. I imagine the sound to be risque yet lovely. I can just hear the sweet sizzling as the main melody, but the subtle popping of water pockets to be tantalizing. I feel so perverted for even thinking about it, now that I mention it. To me, I think that it would sound so carnal and savage that it pulls out the beast in any refined epicurean. I can just hear the oozing and splatter almost as if cooking the waffle was some sort of lecherous sexual display. Now, if that hasn't convinced you to go out and buy a package of Eggo waffles, just imagine the soft, luscious embrace of maple syrup slathered against the glimmering skin of the waffle. Right? I think I may have converted myself to eating a fried Eggo waffle; how completely counterintuitive. Eggo should pay me to advertise. Labels: Jazz
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Allow me to start this blog with a question that, at first glance, I have no clue what to do with. Hopefully, in a matter of moments, I will know what to do with it.
The Question: "You have a red jar of cedar chips. Why do moths miss the forest?" The Answer: At first glance, I have to wonder one thing. Why in the world do I have a red jar of cedar chips? And then, immediately, I remember that answering a question with a question is one quick way to boredom. The best way to answer this question is to flesh this thing out with some level of rationality. Red jars seem like as good a container as any for holding cedar chips. However, just knowing that I have a jar of cedar chips is annoying, because I know for a fact that cedar chips must smell disgusting. I just don't like the scent of cedar. However, this scent is, perhaps, the very reason that moths miss the forest. It is a moth's innate nature to be attracted to the scent of cedar. However, moths cannot smell cedar in its standing, tree form. So, naturally, moths gather around groupings of cedar chips because, at that point, they are capable of smelling the scent that attracts them in such a primal way. These cedar chips, however, are never found spread around the forest, which is the moth's true habitat. Consciously, the moth enjoys the enchanting nature of the green trees and the wild shrubbery that inhabits the forest. The problem arises, however, when the moth's subconscious overrides their conscious. Such an event is common, as the moth does not have enough room in its head for a large, powerful conscious, such as the ones that humans are known to have. So, naturally, whenever a moth smells a jar of cedar chips, they are hard-pressed to fly towards such a jar. This is the very reason that moths are so hard to find in a forest. The fact remains that, at one point in time, moths were once beings that were rife with emotions, tempted by the nymphs of the forest. These Lepidopterans quickly found their heartstrings being tugged by the beautiful spirits of the forest. Cupid was quick to bless them with an endless amount of lust for wood and the like, but, at the same time, some contemptuous god who could never find love cursed the moths with tiny bodies and a powerful, feral need to search out the chips of a cedar tree that have been removed from forests. It is quite a sad reality that moths are forced to live with, day by day, but such are the things that such beautiful creatures must live with. In conclusion, I must apologize for the ridiculous and epic hilarity that is this blog post. As it seems, this is the type of enjoyment one will experience with my blog answers. Perhaps they will get more and more enjoyable as time goes on. Perhaps the questions will get better. Even I don't know that much. I will, however, keep on keeping on. Who knows, maybe I'll write something worth reading some day? Labels: cedar chips, forest nymphs, moths, primal lusts, Tristan Welcome, Friends, to the Bathroom Cafe.
Without a doubt, this will be the one place where you will ever find anything quite so intriguing. In short, Bathroom Cafe is a collaboration blog with a premise that is even stranger than any of the collaborators. I don't know how many of you know about the Blogger profiles that blogger.com offers each individual blogger, but this blog, essentially, revolves around the "Random Question" section of every profile. In essence, every post you will see on this blog following this very quick introductory post will contain one of these questions, and one answer to said question. If you know the questions, you'll know that they are, without a doubt, rather unique. Unique might not even be the right word. Essentially, they are perfect for inspiration to writers such as the ones that will grace this blog. We will be your Bathroom Baristas, and we will introduce ourselves with our first blog post. Admittedly, at this point, there are only two of us, but both of us can't wait to find other bloggers who want to take on this exciting adventure. If you think you'd like to take part in this, get in contact with us, either through comments, or emails, or what-have-you. We'd love to give you a shot, at the very least. We don't know how this will go about developing, but we're very open to all ideas. Even if you're not a blogger, I figure you can have a role in our blog by, perhaps, asking "Random Questions" of your own, which we may take and write a blog out of. For now, sit back, relax, and enjoy your latte. |