Snakes On Your Mom

One of my favorite things about houseplants is that you can have them for years and still not know everything about their personalities. About a month ago I lopped the head off my dumb cane plant, and pitched every recognizably herbaceous part of it into the dumpster. Now it has summoned its vengeful spirit into sprouting a wicked "come-hither" finger-bone-shaped leaf that, with increasing insistence, invites me to bring it on, human teeth to deadly toxins. I've christened this plant Rocky.

Similarly, my sansevieria trifiasciata has lately been busting out some new moves. Commonly known as the Snake Plant for its long, severe and twisty leaves, or "Mother-In-Law's-Tongue" (Ha Ha), mine is affectionately referred to, by me, as Snakes On Your Mom. And while for years it has been nothing but Snakes and Mom, now all of a sudden it has ejected this twelve-inch, dew-speckled and stylish simulacrum of a tree, which looks kind of like something that the design team for Target would print onto a magnet in a pastel/black color combo.

I <3 plants.

In other news, Arnold Schwarzenegger signed a trans fat ban into effect for the whole great state of California today. Granted, it won't go into effect until I leave the state. But I take pleasure in knowing that someday, The Mission will be forced to build a funeral pyre for its beloved Gold-n-Soft, instead of the one it regularly builds for its customers, out of Gold-n-Soft.

This hateful and not even good-tasting margarine is so ubiquitous at my place of employment that the giant empty tubs are recycled as containers for chocolate chips, utensils, and latte flavorings. The back of the restaurant is like a catacomb where trespassers are surrounded by ominous Gold-n-Soft skulls. On a side note, I ordered some potatoes on my break a couple of weeks ago, without oil please. Shortly thereafter my boss told me that I'm not allowed to order potatoes without Gold-n-Soft. She set down a hideous plate of margarine stirred in with potatoes. Then I drop-kicked her in the face.

If only real life were as exciting as blogs. The disallowed part is all true though. And the potatoes are not pre-made that way.

Speaking of blogs and excitement, I learned yesterday that one of my poems will be featured on the Best American Poetry blog next month, thanks to Bruce Covey and David Lehman for nominating and selecting my poem, respectively.

The serious poetry work starts officially when Scott leaves town on Wednesday. Enough pussy-footing around just because it's summertime. Huzzah.

I hope you're having some kind of good evening.