I just figured out why I like the Asus Eee PC so much. Not only is it an instant Internet connection and a purse-sized word processor, it's also a bento computer.

It even comes in bright candy colors.




...I think I just appalled myself.

Here's the selection of Lube Sheep bento boxes I have for sale:

( Big image ahoy. )

All of the bento boxes are $3.99 plus shipping. If you want one, email me at r_longfellow at yahoo dawt com. I'll tell you where to Paypal your money (tell me if you want to work something else out) and then bill you for shipping after I send you the box.

Shipping will include the cost of the container. Sorry. Going into mail business has made me realize what "shipping and handling" really means.

If you want something that doesn't appear in the picture, like matching chopsticks, bag, furoshiki (wrapping cloth), cup, bento band (colors not guaranteed), sushi grass, onigiri molds, food cups, etc., tell me. I make weekly runs to Kam Man and can look for most anything.


Bento menu for Tuesday: Crab cake, fried shumai, tiny meat pie, golden tomatoes courtesy of selkiechick, Indian bread rolled up with Forty Spices hummus, and baked apple slices.

Lube Sheep stuffing, guaranteed edible:

( Strawberry breakfast bento. )

( Crab cake bento. )


(Yes, I upgraded to Plus just to post these pictures.)

I Putifresh Lube Sheeped a Goth last night. It was fun.

lagaz was so charmed by the Putifresh Lube Sheep bento boxes that she had to have one of her own, so we drove out to Kam Man Market to fix her up. She came away with two box sets and a couple of bags of bento-friendly groceries. I was inoculated, having already bought two boxes in addition to the fearsomely refined one I bought several years ago, so I only bought three new boxes, four auxiliary boxes, and three matching bags, and searched not too terribly hard for wee squeezy sauce bottles. I also came away with several bags of bento-friendly groceries, but that happens to me around Asian grocery stores as a matter of course.

Neither of us cooks. I don't pack lunch.

We both attended to mixing and matching with great care. Some of the bentos come in sets, you see, so you can get a Mink the Monkey bento box, two different auxiliary boxes (one is stackable, so if you buy two, it becomes a single, much larger bento box), a chopstick box, a fork, knife, and spoon, a cup, a thermos with matching thermos bag (sold separately), a cloth napkin with its own napkin case, and two different Mink the Monkey lunch bags. You would of course be mad not to get all of this. But what if some portion of it isn't available? What if the box you choose doesn't come with all the associated foo? Does an indigo box with traditional Japanese firefly patterns go with a purple box with cartoony firefly patterns, or would you be better off getting a clear box? What if the only available thermos has maple leaves on it, but nothing else in your cart does? Does it change matters if a complete maple-leaf set exists, even if the store doesn't carry it? These things must be considered!

By the time I dropped Lagaz off and came home, it was 10 o'clock, so of course I stayed up to cook. There are now four half-packed bento boxes and two packed auxiliary boxes in my freezer, waiting for me to work out what to pack in the other half of the boxes. This style of bento box has three compartments: a smallish bottom compartment for rice or some other grain, a slightly larger but still small top compartment for what the Greeks called the opson, the stuff-you-put-on-the-bulk-food--meat, fish, vegetables, fruit, etc.--and a newfangled very-top compartment that's supposed to hold the smallest and silliest utensil set known to man, but which is just right for half a handful of wrapped candy. I've packed the opson compartments with gyoza, shumai, spring rolls, and fish and shrimp balls, thereby mixing grains in with protein and providing precious little in the way of vegetables. Oops. Packing the bottom compartment with rice anyway is unappetizing. I have a bento quandary on my hands.

I want...

A slightly larger Putifresh Lube Sheep bento. The ones I have are 650 ml kids' bento, which are supposedly designed to hold a good 650-calorie lunch if you pack it according to the right recipes, but the right recipes involve, you know... cooking. I want a bento that's cute, affordable, mildly obscene, and able to hold a traditional Western lunch.

A job that pays several thousand dollars a week but has no duties.

A remote control that can turn off the "wave butt in face" function in cats.

A new Internet. This one is old and stale and full of assholes. I want a clean one.

Good health for all my friends. We're all falling to bits--what in hell?

The Mirador, by Sarah Monette. I preordered it from Amazon and it's being released on August 7th, so you'd think Amazon would have it to me by the 9th or 10th, yes? The order page predicts the date of arrival as August 20-24. I hope Amazon is just covering its ass, because under normal circumstances Amazon books arrive at my apartment shortly before I order them. It would not do to delay The Mirador. I might have to resort to hanging out at bookstores, fondling copies that don't belong to me, just to tide me over. I had to do that with The Virtu, and it was a black week.

Fantastic sales for The Mirador, by Sarah Monette, the better to ensure that she has a long, productive authorial life filled with awards and with many, many books that all arrive from Amazon at the speed of light. Yes.

Incidentally, The Mirador is only $16.47 from Amazon. Not that I'm saying you should buy it now or anything.

A very small laptop with an attachment that allows one to dump words directly from the head onto the screen. I asked for this last time and no one got it for me.

Autumn, a time when legends say the temperature drops below 95 degrees.

A finished copy of Throbbing Pagan Sex God.

Three weeks in Mongolia. It's beautiful there, and not 95 degrees.

A big pile of clothes that fit perfectly, are stylish enough for the office but casual enough to lounge around in at home, have plenty of pockets but still don't spoil the line, don't wrinkle, and wash themselves. It would also be nice if they did chores.

A teleporter, or, barring that, a hovercraft. I don't want a TARDIS; the creamy Doctor filling is rich and delicious but brings PAIN and TERROR to all who behold it.

Coordination. I've whacked myself in the head so often with my poi that it's not funny. Er, to me. It's still funny to onlookers. Bastards.

Enough time to work AND play AND do stupid things on the net AND read the increasingly towering stacks of books I haven't touched yet. It would be nice to finish all of last year's Christmas presents before this year's arrive.