Zach Braff Annoys Me

I used to really like Zach Braff. He was kind of cute, kooky, and had healthy, fluffy hair. But then Scrubs became predictable and I tired of his idiotic escapades. Garden State was released and people only seemed to like it because of the soundtrack. And it was too quirky - it was all really contrived, I felt. The whole affair with Zach (not literally) was disappointing, because it was like getting to know somebody you looked up to and thought was interesting and cool, but slowly realizing that most of what s/he was doing/saying was lifted (sometimes subtly, sometimes not) from somewhere else.

When I stumbled across this image of Braff on Threadless, I knew that it was all over between Zach and I. Threadless is supposed to be the place for ordinary graphic designer-aspiring types to submit cool designs and feel good about our cool little community (mind you, I haven't actually submitted anything yet, I've just been thinking about it for a year or something and I think that makes me part of something, no?) and here is Zach Braff, barging into our (ok, 'their') special place and acting ALL SMUG about the whole thing. I mean, look at him. ALSO, he's using the valuable space to promote his latest film, The Last Kiss, and I think that's really cheap and... and... BRAZEN. He's standing on the set of Scrubs and for some reason that bothers me too. Like, we know that you're a movie/television 'star.' Why didn't you get somebody to take the photo at your apartment or something? Then maybe you'd be cool. At least act sheepish about the whole thing.

Ugh. Ugh. Ugh.

* tears at hair *

Tales from Jupp

As many of you know, I am excruciatingly terrible at small talk. I'd rather sit across from someone in a peaceful, cozy, and understanding silence than embarrass everyone involved with inane and thoroughly useless chatter.

Working in retail, however, requires some casual mastery of the art of small talk. Up until recently, I exchanged only a few words with clients: "Can I help at all?"; "Do you prefer yellow or white gold?"; and "Would you like me to gift-wrap this for you?". One day I ventured into discussing-the-weather territory, asking a customer whether it was still raining outside - even though the entire shopfront is made of glass and I had only to glance to the right to answer my own vapid question.

Last Wednesday, a vaguely-distracted woman entered the shop, carrying a large bag and a motorcycle helmet. She had the air of someone who knew that she wanted to buy something, who knew that she must leave with some pretty object in hand, yet didn't know what it was that she wanted. She enquired about some citrine quartz and diamond earrings displayed in the window, and I proceeded to rummage around for them gracelessly, knocking over ring stands and a few gold bangles in my enthusiasm to make a good sale. She tried the earrings on and we had a short conversation about their qualities and merits. When she finally decided to purchase the earrings, I felt so cheered that I decided to work on my small talk skills right then and there.

I beamed across the counter at her and said, "It's so nice to treat oneself, isn't it?"

Some strange emotion passed through her features and I immediately knew that I had managed to fuck up this simple attempt at harmless, pleasant banter.

"Actually," she responded (really absently, I have to say), "I'm getting divorced."

Oh.

"Yes, I've just come from my lawyer's across the street."

Oh.

Quickly I summoned the appropriate facial expressions and murmured my apologies, whilst making a mental note to never attempt any form of casual conversation with customers (and anybody else, really, stranger or otherwise) EVER AGAIN. I said a final "I'm very sorry" as I handed back her credit card, to which she replied:

"Yes, well, I'm coming into a lot of money" (this followed by an intensely bitter laugh and ominous trailing off).

EEK.

Now, some might say that this exchange was not so bad - however, this sort of thing happens to me all the time. At parties, as I shyly clutch at my wine glass or stale hor-d'oeuvre, mustering up the courage and interest to begin a scintillating bit of conversation, I will ask an acquaintance about their boyfriend/girlfriend, only to be told that they broke up the very night before (this has happened to me three times). It is always when I make an especially concerted effort to be outgoing and chatty that these backfires occur. And so, like many other things of late, I am GIVING UP ON SMALL TALK.

Out of Unintended Retirement: Aqua Regia

Well. Dear me. I had no intention of abandoning my blog for so long.

To make a long story short: I had a lovely late summer in Montreal and returned to London in mid-September. I live in Holloway now, in a big house on Axminster Road (just recently I recalled that the name Axminster refers to a particular type of carpet; this train of thought of course led to musings on Vivienne Westwood's famous Axminster Carpet Dress. If only I could have it. And the matching carpet shoes). I cranked out almost thirty applications over the course of a month to various museums, galleries, and other cultural venues. Several institutions contacted me but then hightailed it when they collected more information on the nature of my UK Visa. I made ONE silly, offhand application to a bespoke jewellery shop on Fleet Street (mainly because I was entranced by the idea of working in the City). And so, I was hired by Jupp Fine Jewellery. Many anguished internal monologues on the course of my career followed. Now, however, I'm quite glad to be working at Jupp - I'm learning quite a bit about the custom jewellery trade and am surrounded by pretty, shiny things on a daily basis.

In the course of consulting a book on gemstones for my new employment, I came across a fascinating tidbit of information about something called Aqua regia (Latin for 'Royal Water'). This term refers to a particularly corrosive liquid (not, in fact, royal urine) composed of a mixture of concentrated nitric and hydrochloric acids. Aqua regia is one of the very few substances that can dissolve both gold and platinum, two members of the group of so-called untarnishable and indestructible 'noble metals.' In the course of all of this I also learned about tantalum, another noble metal. Tantalizing tantalum, yum.

Now, I thought this was pretty cool (the aqua regia bit). So when I got home I told Wil all about it, gesturing excitedly. His immediate reaction was to roll his eyes and moan, 'Oh God, this isn't some other superhero thing, is it?' And I protested that it wasn't - even as I realized that yes, it would be a pretty cool superpower. You know, instead of being Absolute Zero and causing the apocalypse, Aqua Regia could be this really awesome being that can undermine and destroy even the stablest and strongest of elements. And then I remembered my blog. And I knew what I had to do.