Tag Archives: meg ryan

I’ll have what she’s having…

diner

Nostalgia is a funny thing. It’s not rational–the things for which we become nostalgic.  Wikipedia sums up, “The term…describes a longing for the past, often in idealized form.”  Idealized form.  That makes sense.  That explains why I get nostalgic so often–I’m quite idealistic.  Take that diner there.  I only went there once.  The service wasn’t great.  I ordered a omellete and it ended up coming with both cheese and shell inside.  And not just a little bit of shell–two eggs worth of shell. It has since closed, which isn’t a huge surprise– But still I’m nostalgic for it.  I’m nostalgic for the person I went there with, the neighborhood surrounding it, and the person I was.

I tend to think that all diners should remain open regardless of their quality or their chances to pass a health inspection.  I would rather eat at a crappy diner, in a booth with a torn cushion, served by a waitress missing most of her teeth, where I will be forced to pick dried-on food out of the tines of my fork and pull a long hair out of my ice water, than eat at a chain, fast-food, or upscale restaurant.  Diners have character.  Diners are America!  Diners are pulling a double and drinking burnt coffee to get through it.  Diners are truck drivers who haven’t had a homecooked meal in months.  They’re laminated menus from which you can order breakfast at midnight just as easily as noon.  They’re miniature jukeboxes on each table.  They’re plastic cups, swivel stools, and rotating cake displays.  Diners are Keri Russell’s Waitress character declaring, “I don’t want you to save me. I don’t need to be saved.”  They’re Meg Ryan’s character in When Harry Met Sally faking an orgasm.  They’re no frills.  Their doors are open, their floors are dirty, and their grills are on.

In short, diners are good.

noname1

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Every Day is Earth Day: Sea Kittens and Six-Pack Rings

In the past two days, while walking the New York City streets, I’ve found two of those plastic six-pack holder rings on the ground.  The first one was on Park Avenue, and the second one was just up the street from my apartment.  I picked both of them up because, well, I feel bad about plastic.  Also, I just finished reading Yes Man (no, I haven’t seen the movie, yet, and it’s like…who really takes the time to read books adapted into Jim Carrey vehicles?, but…I’ve been on a non-fiction kick and it was written by this British guy so there’s the occasional “bollocks” and “loo” and lots of tea drinking).  Anyway, I’m kind of impressionable, so I guess the thought has been, YES, I will pick up more trash.

I ❤ gills.

As I was picking up the second ring, I got to thinking…this is probably one of those things that got blown way out of proportion and doesn’t even make a huge difference.  And according to the one, decade-old source I bothered to find, I was right!  Cecil Adams says:

The fact is…that the six-pack-ring threat has been greatly exaggerated. According to the Center for Marine Conservation, only 50,000 of the 10.4 million items collected during the 1998 cleanup (0.48 percent) were six-pack rings. Between 1988 and 1998, U.S. cleanups uncovered 1,089 instances of animal entanglement, but only 72 (7 percent) involved six-pack rings. The real offenders were monofilament fishing line, fishhooks, and lures, implicated in 461 cases (42 percent). Add in crab and lobster traps, nets, and related equipment, and we find that fishing gear accounts for almost half of all entanglements.

Oh, and this is a fun fact: “All rings currently made will degrade in sunlight in a few weeks or months, depending on the season.”

But yeah, I’m still going to pick them up and stretch each ring out until it’s just a big floppy piece instead of a potential deathtrap.  And you know, at first that whole “Save the Sea Kittens” campaign by PETA seemed really ridiculous, and it still does, but they really are adorable.  You can even make your own sea kitten by selecting the type of fish (trout, salmon, tuna, or flounder) adorning it with hair, ears, sunglasses, a unicorn horn, et cetera, and then giving it a name.  It’s a pretty amazing experience.  I made a flounder with surgically enhanced lips, a fu manchu moustache, and a tiara that I named Meg Ryan. 

I read some AP article about the sea kitten campaign and it was kind of awesome because they interviewed children in a small Alaskan fishing town where a girl replied, “I don’t think of fish as sea kittens, I think of them as food.”  That may just be her mercury poisoning speaking, but sounds like my kind of girl: no nonsense with a hearty appetite.