Sonya, while watching Transylvania 6-5000 the other night:

I went on the interview the other day. Got the job, too. Hoorah!

And that's the last I'll be saying about that. Believe it or not, some employers frown on this kind of exhibitionism.

I'm gonna buy a Jetta, though. It's good to be a yuppie.

So I go up to the exercise room last night and I get on the treadmill. Thinking I'll run a couple of miles 'cause it's just too cold to run outside. Plus, I have real problems with pacing myself; I sprint the first mile, then walk and jog the second, then I stumble along on the third. The treadmill makes me run steady.

I got on the thing and started going, right? I ran for thirty, forty minutes. Then I checked my distance. One point two eight miles. Bullshit. Obviously calibrated incorrectly.

Then I go up there tonight. The minute I walk in the room some old lady crawls up on the treadmill and starts speed-walking. I realize she could be on it for hours. I did some weight work and went home. I was hungry, and we had last night's Angel to watch.

We were playing Scattergories the other night, the Wife and I. The subject: Ethnic Food. The letter: N.

My answer? Nachos!

This prompted much laughter. Sonya protested.

"Nachos aren't ethnic!" she laughed.

Think about it, though. They're called tortilla chips. Chili? Jalapenos? Mexican, Mexican, Mexican. Can't get any more ethnic than that.

I saw Being John Malkovich a while back, right? And in that movie, John Cusack plays a puppeteer. Right now I'm reading Philip Roth's Sabbath's Theater; the main character - Mickey Sabbath - is a puppeteer.

Are there really people out there who make a living playing with puppets? That, to me, seems like the outrageous fantasy. How much money could a puppeteer make, anyway?

Sabbath's Theater is some heavy-duty literature, let me tell you. I'm about halfway through and I still haven't decided if it's good or not. At first it just seems to be about old people fucking, but there's a lot more to it than that. I have a suspicion, though, that Philip Roth just wanted to write a bunch of naughty stuff.

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