“Do you like mysteries?” she asked. “I just read a good one.”

I concentrated on getting my credit card information into the machine and checking that the machine hadn’t been fitted with a skimmer. When I finished signing my name, I looked back at the woman who was talking: she had her Kindle out and was glancing through her most recently read titles. I guess the cashier was an old friend.

“Have you read A Song of Fire and Ice?” the woman asked. “It takes place in olden times, you know, with knights and horses and spooky things. I think they made a movie out of it.”

It’s a moment like that when I remember we all live in different universes.

Holy moly, I thought, how could you not know that the book series is called A Song of Ice and Fire? That isn’t the name of any of the books at all. It doesn’t take place in “olden times,” it takes place in a fantasy kingdom that never existed. The author is George RR Martin and it wasn’t made into a movie, it was made into one of the biggest television events of last year, a series on HBO?

I haven’t read any of the books (Darin has; he gave up on book 3, as has every single person he’s talked to, so I don’t know who all has been buying Book 4, let alone Book 5, which apparently was the best-selling fiction book of all last year), but I know all of these things. I know Sean Bean starred in the HBO series, and the series kept in The Major Twist that everyone expected them to get rid of (since, you know, they had Sean Bean). I know George RR Martin has a really big beard. I know the series is partially inspired by the Wars of the Roses, but once you have actual dragons in your book, you’ve gone rather further afield than just your inspiration.

People don’t know stuff.

They don’t have to. They still enjoy the world. The world still spins.

Most people haven’t even heard of any of these books or TV series and they’re still pretty knowledgeable about stuff. My dental hygienist bored me to tears while I was in the chair the other day going on and on about the football playoffs, and yet these things she was telling me were extremely important to her view of the universe.

It’s cool when you understand enough about the world that you can explain it to someone else. It’s frustrating as hell when there are things I don’t understand and can’t seem to grok for the life of me, no matter how hard I try. Generally, if I’m interested enough in something, I like learning all about it, and then I tell other people about it.

Sometimes it stuns me when I run across someone who’s enthusiastic about something (as this woman clearly was about A Game of Thrones, which was the top book in her Kindle) and yet doesn’t know very much about it. I wonder sometimes how many times I talk about something called A Song of Fire and Ice and the person next to me rolls their eyes and goes about their business.

So last night I have a dream in which I’m trying to get to Berlin and I find a book entitled something like Berlin auf Fluchthaft. I looked up “fluchthaft” in Babelfish and it gave me “escapeful”; the various dictionaries on-line gave me “No such word, bucko.” However, there are several pages (via Google, natch) that use the word “fluchthaft.”

Is “escapeful” the best translation for “fluchthaft”? Or does it mean something else in slang?

ETA: My father-in-law says it means “something that keeps you from fleeing,” from Flucht=flight and Haft=arrest (or constraint). So now I am really wondering what that dream meant!

What if the Rapture came and nobody was aware of it? I mean, especially when we have a President whose current brilliant idea is evidently to nuke Iran? Talk about your End of Days scenarios.

I didn’t even hear about the pinch-if-not-wearing-green thing until I was in high school. I stared at the girl who pinched me and said, “What?” When she explained, I said, “I’m Irish the other 364 days too. I don’t have to wear green.” I’ve stocked up on my corned beef and potatoes and shepherd’s pie rations for the rest of my life. I don’t need to prove to anyone I’m Irish.

As I drove around today — yes! I can operate heavy machinery again! — I saw lots of people wearing something green. One street was blocked off so that the Irish pub could put on a big shindig. I don’t get it. Why are Americans so into this holiday? Is it just an excuse to drink?

WHICH foppish fashionista renowned for his elaborate outfits was literally caught with his pants down at Boy George’s recent birthday bash? The frisky fop was receiving a sex act from three young men at the same time

and I find myself wondering: is the fashionista in question getting one sexual favor from three men at the same time (each getting their licks in, so to speak), or is each providing a different sexual favor? In which case, how does that work? Do you have to be a gymnast? Do you have to plan ahead to figure out who’s going to be doing what? I’m not getting a visual on this, having never gone in for the group grope thing.

I have discovered that is way, way easier said than done in these here parts. I’ve been to 6 or 7 stores so far—including OfficeMax, Office Depot, Staples, and University Art Supply (San Jose)—and called several others, and all I have found is one package of Waterman cartridges with black ink.

Short of driving all the way to Palo Alto—which it’s looking like I’m going to have to do, which is nuts, given that it’s 20 miles each way and I have two kids with me and we’ve already done our day-in-Palo-Alto for this month—I’m going to have to make an order online to buy ink.

All the stationers have closed, it seems. At least, around here. No more McWhorter’s. No independents like A&B Stationers (which was on Ventura in Studio City).

Anybody have any suggestions for where I can find some damn fountain pen ink?

What is “stork margarine”?

Update 7/31/05: Annnnnnnnd…we’re done. I don’t know why this is the favorite target entry of morons who want to post stupid things, but no one else gets to post now either!

Having just bought a home here in the great state of California, I find myself wondering if the same sort of thing doesn’t go on here. I haven’t heard that it does; I just find myself wondering.

Property taxes in California are calculated based on the sales price—initial property taxes are 1% of the sales price, and the taxes can only rise 2% every year thereafter. (Yes, Proposition 13, and no, we won’t get into how it’s a complete windfall for corporations and everyone else gets screwed.) So if you buy a house for $100,000, your initial taxes will be $1,000 a year. (You will also be very popular, because I am willing to bet there isn’t a house in the entire state for under $300,000.)

But if I say my initial purchase price was $50,000, and I pay you $50,000 under the table, then my property taxes are only $500 to start with.

When you start adding lots of zeroes to all of these prices, you can see why people might want to do this.

Other than the fact that it’s illegal—and in today’s climate, ripping the entire state of California off for billions of dollars doesn’t even rate probation, let alone jail time—why aren’t people doing this with home sales? Or are they and I totally missed out?