Precious Moments

Inappropriate movie theater and food experiences that Kimberly Eichelberger and I have shared throughout the years:


1. We were students in Hawaii, and every fortnight or so Kimmy and I would manage the trek from Laie to Kaneohe to feast on pho at our favorite Vietnamese dive. No problem, a bowl of pho, though massive, is a socially acceptable meal. Social acceptability quickly began to sour however, once we discovered how succulent the doughnuts next door at Kaneohe Bakery were. Two doughnuts a piece became the set standard after each pho run. The problem zone hadn't fully been entered until a decision was made that we couldn't leave town without first stopping at Jamba Juice. For a small fruit smoothie perhaps? Just a sip to cleanse the pallet? Never. We (or at least I) went for the beastly 20-something-ounce Peanut Butter Moo'd. Let's just call it what it is: a giant-size milkshake. I mean, part of its name is "Moo".

One sad, lonesome Valentines Day we (and some others) bought all the above to-go (plus a Coke, I'm sure), positioned it conspicuously into Kim's purse (duffel bag?), and sneaked it into the theater where we dined while watching Tyler Perry's "Daddy's Little Girls".

Depressed yet?

2. 2010's "Lottery Ticket". Yes, we paid money to watch it. Yes, I've seen it twice. Yes, it stars Bow Wow (the artist formerly known as Lil Bow Wow) and Loretta Devine. Yes, it would be the perfect movie if Madea would make an appearance. We were in San Diego, and yes, we sneaked Vietnamese baguette sandwiches into the theater. The theater was obviously dark and Kimmy took a bite without realizing that jalapenos were a main topping. The reaction made my life.

3. My favorite food is fried chicken. I like it golden, crispy, greasy, salty. Popeye's, yes. KFC, absolutely. But if you're really looking to tickle my fancy, forget the fancy buckets and boxes and hook your brother up with an 8-piece bag from the Albertson's deli. And I know I'm not alone, Alby's chicken has an upstanding reputation of perfection.

I traded Flagstaff for a warm weekend in Phoenix. Kimmy and I were on our way to a movie and naturally, we craved fried chicken. An Albertson's happened to be in the neighborhood and we bought a bag. Somehow we ended up with our fried chicken watching "Precious". Apparently we're inadvertent racists, Oops.

Until now I didn't realize how much we enjoy movies intended for a Black audience. J/K, I totally did.

Havasupai

 

Took a trip to the Havasupai Indian Reservation in the Grand Canyon last weekend with a couple friends. A camera obviously can't do the place justice, but hopefully you get an idea for how incredibly unique and beautiful this place is.

Hobby #1

Maybe it's not so much a hobby as it is a necessary natural bodily function. If you know me well you know I can't burp. I just can't. Semi-annually a mini burp sneaks up on me; it's a big deal celebrated with a mass text to friends, a call to my mom, a redbox movie, and a steak dinner.

This, I've decided, is my summer. My summer to unite myself with the other 7 billion humans on Earth, and learn to burp.

But I can't go it alone. I'll need your support, some guidance, and maybe a prayer.

now and future

I admitted my graduation. Now a follow up confession: I miss school. I know, I'm sick. It's just that grad school overwhelmed my life for two years unlike anything else--'cept my mission--and I've realized I'm not over it. Though I was stressed, sleep deprived, without friends, and conscious thanks only to a steady diet of fast food and Diet Coke, I feel like I actually miss the insane amount of reading and writing. I plan to apply for a PhD program within the year.

The crazy thing is that a PhD in anthropology takes an average of seven+ years.

Meanwhile, I have a job. I conduct research, evaluating a statewide initiative that involves school readiness for young kids. I travel throughout Northern Arizona and interview stakeholders and parents. I analyze what they tell me and help compose reports and provide suggestions to the state. I am an applied anthropologist and feel lucky to have a job in my field, but frankly, I'm bored. I'm not motivated by educational anthropology and selfishly can't wait to get back to researching topics directly in line with my interests and curiosities.

Which are what? Food and... well, mostly just food. Producing it, processing it, distributing it, and of course, eating it.

Most of the last year was spent developing my thesis, which focused primarily on the relationship between food and cultural identification. My work was based on insights from an internship I conducted last summer at an urban farm for migrants and refugees in San Diego. I would like to continue similar work and eventually teach anthropology at a university.

Arizona has been good to me and I'll enjoy another year here. Come Fall 2012 though, I'll happily move on. Oregon, Hawaii, Indiana? Shoot, I'll join any program that wants me! (hopefully some program out there will...). Until then I plan to fill my free time with a pile of new hobbies that I haven't thought of yet. Suggestions?

return

I think I'm ready to emerge from retirement. But only to report two things: 1) I graduated (please call me "master" from here on out); and 2) I impulsively bought a ticket to Bangkok last night. I leave October 12 for three weeks and tentatively plan to wander around Thailand, Cambodia and Laos. And I haven't told my boss.

omg lol

My brother in-law Josh, generously gifted me a Blackberry Pearl for Christmas. Even though I am still deconstructing its complexities I have not slowed my texting habit. This past week alone I sent the following (inappropriate) text messages to the wrong people:

1. "I am still so grossed out that Dougie sampled your lady milk." (sorry emily w.)

2. "ROADTRIP!" (sorry nikki s.)

3. "I wish you were a treasure troll too." (sorry matt m.)

4. "Oh heeeey boo." (sorry bishop walton)

Love?

The following scene occurred last Sunday at an after-church activity at the bishop's house:

I am eating and half zoned out but catch a girl staring at me. We do the awkward "look-away-and-pretend-it-never-happened" routine, but it happens several more times. Some time passes, I finish a conversation with a friend, and StareGirl approaches me.

Me: Hey

StareGirl: Okay. I don't really know how to talk to people. Well, about anything other than books. So, do you like to read?

Me: Uh?..

Looks like I found a Valentine's date! jk.

Marcel the Shell with Shoes On

Sir, You Left Something in the Pool

It's a cold night in Flagstaff, and I'm in the library dreaming of a sunny beach. I am reminded of a tale. It's no mystery that I enjoy a tan. Before you snarl and cast me aside like some orange, sun (bed) worshiping cast member of the Jersey Shore, keep in mind that even though I may lay in the (real) sun from time to time I do so safely (if there's such a thing). The day I'm about to tell you about is when my love affair with sunscreen began.

After a trip through Sonora, Mexico, a group of friends and I ended up in Phoenix for a couple days of R&R at one of their apartments. One afternoon, relaxed and reading by the pool, we were joined by a feeble old man with a wobbly gait. To our fright the old man disrobed revealing an itty bitty black Speedo and bones draped in paper thin skin; skin draped in shoddily placed Band-Aids; Band-Aids almost hiding open, oozing sores.

"No problem," I thought, "I can handle this." Right? Sure I might be a borderline gerontaphobe, germaphobe, agoraphobe, agliophobe, opensoreaphobe, and publicpoolaphobe but I remained composed. Until, that is, he jumped in the pool and at least one Band-Aid crept its way from the old man's hyde into the water. There in the pool bathed the old man, publicly cleansing the ooze from his mystery wounds. And there poolside, me, cringing, sweating, panicking.

Satisfied, the old man retired. Walking toward his lounge chair, he crossed in front of me, stopped, took note of my UV overdose, reattached a loose Band-Aid, and said, "You'd better be careful or you'll end up looking like me."

Terrified and speechless, I stole Kimmy's bottle of CopperTone SPF 70 and finished the thing off.

ZOMBIE USA

A peak at the First Annual Flagstaff Zombie Flesh Crawl: