Studies Also Suggest Michaelangelo Used TOOLS To Sculpt Marble

How much less interesting can this get?

According to an article in the New York Times today, “cutting edge” technologies were used to determine that “the ‘Mona Lisa’ had been created by using many extremely thin layers of paint.”

GROUNDBREAKING. Who knew that artists had been using PAINT to make PAINTINGS, even all the way back in 1500s?! Dan Brown, please get on this immediately; I know there are secrets here to be excavated.

I’m waiting for these marvelous art historians/scientists to delight us with further discoveries, such as “We now know that da Vinci never actually intended to give his subject a mouth or eyes, but planned to scrawl “Ur a bitch” across her face instead. Thirty minutes after he thought of this, he changed his mind, realizing that it might reduce the size of his commission. We can tell these things conclusively thanks to lasers.”

Absolute Power Ballads Corrupt [Your Self-Respect] Absolutely

A pretty good indicator of some sort of mental problem: you have a sudden, burning urge at 11:00 p.m. to hear all five minutes of Night Ranger’s “Sister Christian.” And you act on it.

I’m Bringin’ Sexy Back. And Tax Refunds, I’m Bringin’ Those Back, Too.

My thigh is just now purpling from the kick I took during my first sparring class on Friday. My left knee isn’t looking all that beautiful, either. We spar again on Tuesday, so I can expect to have a really fine pair of gams by mid-week.

Even with the moderate injuries, though, I REALLY enjoyed sparring. It’s way more of an adrenaline rush than a regular class, and it’s helping me understand (finally) how all the kicks and blocks function in a real-life scenario. I’d rather not be paired with the thirteen-year-old boys who are overly thrilled about being allowed to kick women in the chest and head, but my adult classmates are a lot of fun to fight, when we’re not laughing about how silly we look in foam helmets.

Speaking of adrenaline rushes, I signed up for an intensive tax prep course tonight (11 seven-hour sessions from October through December), and I am really excited about it. Neither Kevin nor my parents understand why–they both assure me that it will be boring and unnecessarily complicated–but it’s just what I was looking to do with my weekends (or at least my Sundays). I had been flipping through the course catalogues for all the local colleges, searching for accounting, math, or business-related classes I could take in my spare time, but this is even more relevant and useful. Plus, if I do well in this course, I could work weekends helping people prepare their taxes, and make a little extra money. Yay!

Wanna Put My Tender Moss In A Blender / Watch It Spin Around To A Beautiful Oblivion

During his “I want rock gardens” phase, Dad asked me and Emma to wander around the backyard and peel the choicest hunks of moss off the trees.  We collected a bucket’s worth, which Dad promptly poured into Mom’s Cuisinart, along with half a gallon of buttermilk.  Mom watched in horror as one of her more valuable kitchen appliances pureed dirt and moss and milk into a foamy brownish sludge.  Later, we watched Dad slather the runny elixir on the northern side of his favorite rocks, worrying as he painted it on that the recipe had called for too much buttermilk.

It rained not long afterward, washing the cream-soaked spores through the mulch, into the soil.  Still, we waited for weeks, checking daily to see if the moss would sprout.

Home Sweet Queens

The local Democrats have GOT to stop sending me e-mails with “Queens4Spitzer” in the subject line. I don’t know if it’s the colloquial way it’s written, or my time in college as president of the LGBT pride organization, but the first image that comes to mind is a bunch of divas in drag spilling out of a voting booth. Then I remember that, oh yes, “Queens” refers to the borough I call home.

Speaking of Queens, I have recently begun to really like it here. I never had a problem with Jackson Heights, but I figured that it wasn’t a place I’d want to be permanently. This past month, I’ve felt that for as long as I am in the NYC metropolitan area, I wouldn’t mind being in this neighborhood.  I feel safe, it’s inexpensive (by New York standards), and I’m surrounded by everything I could want: I live next door to my taekwondo dojang, the airport is twenty minutes away by bus, and I’m within walking distance of the #1 rated Indian restaurant in the United States. I can almost say that Spanish is beginning to grow on me as well (my area is predominantly Colombian/Ecuadorian).

I love that I find new and exciting things in this neighborhood every week–a little art store on 37th Ave, the arepa lady under the 7 train, a Pakistani restaurant on the bus route towards LaGuardia, the gardens hiding behind stately brick walk-ups, bars of cinnamon-and-clove chocolate for whisking into hot milk at the grocery store. Jackson Heights is reportedly the most diverse ZIP code in the country, and I’m starting to realize how spoiling this is, how different it will be when I eventually move.

Ba da ba ba ba… I’m Lovin’ It.

Current obsession: adzuki bean ice cream with cashews on top. Mmmm. And my newly-fixed bathtub, which drains properly once again. I feel a Lush bath coming on this weekend…