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the old:
“sss sss sss ss ssss”

“hee hee heee hee”

the wicked: the very throaty and crackly “oh you fell down, ehh hegh hegh hrgh hrgh”

the demented: “ha huuuuuuuh ha huuuuuuuuh ha huuuuuuh” (Laura, one in a million who’d actually recognize this one)

the evil: similar to but not the same as, the wicked “khuh kuh kheee khee kheee”

the on-the-job: high pitched muffled, back of throat “hmm mm mm mm mm mmmm”

the swedish: “puh”

the belly: “whaaa haa ahaaa haa”

the hilariously funny, in a mocking way: “haa haa haa (snort) ha ha haa ha haha”

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Denny Crane and Alan Shore at the end of each episode of Boston Legal get together for cigars, sherry and a good talk. I love this show for a great many reasons, it’s humor, it’s witty and glib social commentary, but I also love the ending because it’s like the end to my day everyday with the Wendz, yes, cigars and sherry in hand.

Today, as seen in The Onion:

WASHINGTON, DC—At a special Earth Day event Sunday, Vice President Dick Cheney inhaled his first-ever breath of oxygen.

“I am…proud to stand before you today and…breathe in the same gas used by…millions of Americans,” said a wheezing and gasping Cheney, whose body is accustomed to compounds of chlorine and sulfur dioxide. “One breath, however, is enough for me. I’m glad the stuff will be out of the atmosphere forever in a few decades.”

Cheney then left the press conference to attend a cardiac health awareness dinner, where he feasted on human hearts.

I love it.

Cup and Cap

A rare peek inside the mind of Liz Freimuth, genius on caffeine. A two minute exploration. Fully and expertly documented by Patrick on paper, and Richie on camera. Stay tuned for Movements 2 and 3 of this Magnum Opus.

Yes it happened – We’ve fallen behind again.  I’ll be heading to Chicago for the MOLA Conference, and Ixi will be leaving a few days later to tour with the CSO.  I’ll catch up next week, I promise!

images-2.jpegI need to just cut my losses and admit defeat. I’m coming clean with being idiomatically challenged: somehow I manage to put a foot in it at least once or twice a week… Conversing with me is touch and go, and when I try to incorporate meanings like “I’m strapped for cash” to say that I have loads of it, people will usually laugh and give me an empathetic smile before politely correcting my mistake. ‘Cept Wendy, who gets a good kick out of it. Hey it’s not my fault that by and large I’m way off base and often mangle it up, I wasn’t born here.

I don’t mean to burst your illusionary balloon bubble about me, but yes it’s true, I’m not perfect. Perhaps a leopard can’t change her spots. So the next time we get together to chew the fat, remember to be kind.

Joanna, a savvy young literary genius posted this on Whitney’s blog – it’s amazing and I laughed out loud when I saw it. I want to start using this in the library.

(image forthcoming)

Tim (also known as the awesome fantastic brother) alluded to addictions to red bull in the previous post, and I felt this warranted further discussion.

My love affair with Red Bull started my first summer here in Cincinnati. I was working for the Opera in the summer, and the long hours and late rehearsals in which I needed to be awake. I hadn’t really developed my penchant for coffee just yet, and ‘energy drinks’ were flooding the market. I don’t know what attracted me to the bull – maybe the simplicity of the can, or that the can is shiny – either way I was hooked from the first sip. I would make a morning cocktail of bull with pomengranate juice, because a girl needs her taurine with antioxidants. I’m not sure what taurine is or what it does to your body – but it kept me focus and awake for all those last minute changes and banda inserts. After about 6 months or so of this, my addiction and agitation if I went without caused concern for coworkers and friends, and I gave it up.

Until the next summer.

Again faced with difficult summer season, no bean and late nights with the opera crowd, I turned to my constant friend in a can. Since people were under the guise that I was ‘healthy’ I had to hide my secret shame (ie I was forced to drink it in my car on the way to work). When I had amassed so many cans in the back seat I could no long find my concert shoes, I took a long look at my habit. With the help if coffee buckets, I have successfully kicked it.

Until the next summer.

images.jpegMy mother to this day will tell me, my brother, and anyone who will listen that if you are awake past midnight ‘you’ll turn into a pumpkin.’ Now if I appear slightly blurry-eyed (which of course some tactless person at work usually comments on) I find myself saying it when relevant. I am not bothered by the fact that I’m saying the same things as my mother, but rather that this doesn’t really make all that much sense. I’m assuming the reference is to my favorite fairy tale of Cinderella, where at the final stroke of midnight the spell is broken and everything returns as it was – including the pumpkin. I don’t believe that I was referred to as an ornate carriage all these years, but still, a carriage? I realize that I’m taking this idiom too literally, but it does seem to be a strange comparison. In any event, this pumpkin is habitually up too late, and in need of some beauty sleep.

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Please ask before using my photos or content from this blog or my website. I most often say yes and I'd like to know who to thank. The photos and content of this blog are under copyright. All rights reserved. © Ixi Chen

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