How to make a fool of yourself in a public bathroom in 25 easy steps

1.  Excuse yourself to go to the bathroom.
2.  If you happen to be eating at Joe Vera's Mexican restaurant in Provo, remind yourself that the door with the "Jose" sign on it is the Men's Room.
3.  It's not short for "Josie," as in "Josie and the Pussycats."
4.  How many times have you made that mistake?
5.  But that's not the point.
6.  You recently did something else stupid in a public bathroom.
7.  You washed your hands.
8.  (That wasn't the stupid part.)
9.  Then you attempted to dry your hands.
10.  You went to the towel dispenser.
11.  You waved your hands beneath the towel dispenser.
12.  Nothing happened.
13.  You waved your hands again.
14.  You said to the woman emerging from a stall that you hate these automatic towel dispensers because they never work.
15.  Then you remember how your brother Jimmy used to tell his kids that if they didn't graduate for high school, they would have to work behind the walls of public bathrooms and flush toilets for people who believed that the toilets were automatically flushing themselves.
16.  HAHAHAHAHAHAHA
17.  Your brother is a lot like your dad, who used to tell you that the toilets in Winnemucca, NV were magic toilets.
18.  He was  good dad, but it must be said he used to lie to his kids about some things.
19.  But that's another story.
20.  So you wave your hands some more.
21.  Nothing happens.
22.  So then you kind of flap your arms and do a little rain dance, except it's actually a paper towel dispenser dance.
23.  That doesn't work.
24.  And then you see the knob on the side and it hits you.
25.  The paper towel dispenser is manual--not automatic.

See how easy it is to make a fool of yourself in bathrooms all over America?  You're welcome!

You're my lobster

Yesterday at the Smith's--amidst all the Valentine balloons and flowers and plants and chocolates--I saw a stuffed toy lobster holding a heart that said "You're my lobster."

I looked at this for awhile, feeling really confused.  Are lobsters a thing now like owls used to be,  I asked myself?  Do I want a lobster?  Do I want to be a lobster?  Do I want to be with a lobster? (Answer:  no and also ouch!)

Clearly this Valentine toy was a reference to something . . . but what?  Maybe I'd check out the Urban Dictionary--something I occasionally do when I write columns just so that if I drop a phrase, I know exactly what it is that I'm saying, yo.

I never had to check out the Urban Dictionary, however, because last night at work, Kenneth knew the answer.  It's a line from an episode of Friends, a series I never really watched and when I did I was mostly distracted by Jennifer Aniston's hair.  But apparently Phoebe tells Ross and Rachel that they're each other's lobsters, because lobsters mate for life.

Or so Phoebe said.  I'm not an expert when it comes to the dating habits of lobsters, obv.

Hail Caesar

The Coen brothers are responsible for two of my favorite movies--O Brother and Raising Arizona.  So naturally I've been looking forward to their new film, Hail, Caesar!, which Ken Cannon and I saw last night.

Thumbnail review--entertaining and agreeable without being stellar.  There were plenty of things to love--Josh Brolin's character confessing to his priest that he'd slapped a movie star, Tilda Swinton doubling as competitive gossip columnist twins, the over-the-top, homo-erotic dance number with the awesome Channing Tatum.  (I have a crush on C-Tat, it must be acknowledged.)

Still, it didn't send me to the moon.  It sent me half-way.  There were times when I actually felt a little bored.  I liked the idea of George Clooney talking to a study group of communists while wearing a toga,  for example, but the scene itself lost steam.  At least for me.

Not sorry I saw it, though.

Yup. Here's what I don't want for Valentine's Day.

You can read about it here.

Meanwhile, I've been thinking about the valentines from my own elementary school childhood--how I used to scour them for hidden meanings from the boys I liked, not realizing then, of course, that boys weren't into "hidden meanings."  Or at least those kinds of hidden meanings.  "Verbal" is what I'm talking about here.

No.  If the boys in the fifth grade liked you, they just threw chestnuts at your legs when you standing together at the bus stop.

And the confusion just goes on and on . . .

I made it home! ALIVE!

These are the kinds of conversations that ensue when I tell TRQ that I'm going hiking in the snow with my friend Kim.

TRQ:         Wait.  You're going hiking with Kim?

ME:            Yes.

TRQ:           The same Kim who lives in Park City?

ME:             Yes.

TRQ:            So that means you'll be hiking in Park City?

ME:              Yes.

TRQ:            Well.  Okay then.  Watch out for avalanches.

ME:               I will.  I'll watch out for avalanches.

TRQ:            Call me when you get home.  (darkly)  If you get home.

Okay.  I added the "if you get home" part for dramatic effect.  But the thing about TRQ is that she can foresee the worst-case scenario better than anybody else I know.  This is the reason why Ken Cannon always used to say he'd hate to have TRQ on a jury awarding damages in a personal injury case.

It's also the reason why TRQ has a much more interesting life than I do because she sees thrilling possibilities everywhere.  Honestly, she's the best.

What you might not want your bookseller to say to you on the telephone

One of my jobs at TKE is to call customers and tell them that their special orders have arrived.  It's great.  I put on my best silky smooth announcing voice--the one I used  over the PA system when I worked at Albertson's, informing shoppers that we had fresh donuts in the bakery--and let people know their books are waiting for them.

Anyway, I was calling on specials today when I suddenly forgot myself and almost ended a call with "I love you!"

Which would have been creepy, don't you agree?

Books that make me feel cold

Notice I didn't say "leave me cold."  Because that would be a totally different thing.  And these books did not leave me cold.

Anyway, I've read three books lately, all of them set in cold climates.  And they've been so vividly rendered that I CANNOT GET WARM.  Even though I'm in my house wearing the flannel housecoat I bought from the Vermont Country Store for Christmas this year because I'm an old fart named Donna Reed now.

But that's another story.

Anyway, these are the books.

The Tsar of Love and Techno by Anthony Marra--a collection of short stories set in old Soviet places like Chechnya, Siberia, and Moscow.  It's honestly the best thing I've read in a long, long time.

Salt to the Sea by Ruta Sepetys--a young adult novel set during WWII about four refugees, trying to make it to a seaport where they will be evacuated from the eastern front by ship.  Based on a true story, this book is stellar.

Anna and the Swallow Man by Gavriel Savit--another young adult novel set against the backdrop of wintry WWII (why so many WWII stories for young readers these days?).  Although this book is stunning on a number of levels, I don't really see it as a book for young readers.  Or if it is, it's for kids the way The Little Prince is for kids.

I think it's interesting that I read books about winter during the winter.  You'd think I'd reach for Hot Country by Robert Olen Butler and take myself to Mexico in my head instead.  What is wrong with me?