Work was long on Saturday. Twelve days in a row is too much, and by the end of it I was feeling fairly burnt and a bit surly. This makes me less than patient with customers, so I spent the last hour or so dodging as many as possible. Lynn was already there, so I wasn't leaving anybody guessing about wine. As soon as I was sprung, I went across the street to get dog food. After that I stopped in to see if a pair of shoes I had had my eye on was still waiting for me after nearly two weeks. they were. only one pair left and they were my size. Taking that as a sure sign from the shoe gods, I snatched them up and bought a pair of socks with giraffes on them as well. These are the kind of shoes that are supposed to be good for your back, and I have no brown shoes that I can wear for work, so it wasn't completely indulgent. After that I went home, fed the dogs, turned on the Jancis Robins0n wine DVD that had arrived from Netflix, and promptly passed out.
I went out on Saturday night with my friend MT. We had a couple beers at Flicker and then moved on to Tasty World. Only got to talk to Jared for a couple minutes, because he was working, but hung out with Murphy for quite some time and caught up. Good times. We went home before the witching hour, avoiding the chaos of bars emptying into the street. I slept like shit and so did the dogs, so we all spent the bulk of Sunday on the couch. I was in a foul mood and after speaking to my parents did not even bother to answer the phone. Eventually I got up enough energy to slip out and eat. I went to The Grit and had a large golden bowl with veggies and cheese and a bottle of root beer.
Things are looking brighter on the VT front. School called the b.h. on Saturday and said that we would know about money by mid-week. Not holding my breath but I am hopeful. Also there is a house I have been looking into and I am waiting for a call back from the landlord. Wish me luck.
If all goes as planned, I think I will be slipping off to Savannah on Saturday. "As planned" meaning that I get the day off on Saturday, find somebody to watch the dogs, and have enough money to make it happen. The b.h. and I could use a day off alone together I think. He has a show on Saturday night, but then we could poke around on Sunday. I can't imagine how lovely Savannah must be right now, with Spring springing and all.

I feel like I've been had. Smuttynose makes great beer. I have had several, and I liked all of them. So when we got a new shipment that included Hanami Ale, I was interested. The label says it's made with cherries. Well, Kasteel Rouge is made with cherries, and I like that. In fact. I haven't had a kriek beer that I don't like (yet), so I split a six-pack with two of my co-workers (I'm broke and it was late, so i thought two beers would be plenty). When I got home I opened it straight away, not even bothering with food or shoe removal or anything.
The thing is, it's a great beer, but I hate it. It is a sour, and the word sour was nowhere on the label. Crap. So after a few more attempts, I wound up pouring the whole thing down the drain. I was pretty sure I could hear ancestors turning in their graves while I did it. Then I popped open a bottle of Sierra Nevada, made myself a sandwich, and checked e-mail before bed. Still no money, still no job, but a bright spot on the housing horizon. Fingers crossed.

I should be going to Atlanta today to a big wine show/tasting thing at the High Museum, but for various reasons I can't. I'll not dwell on that for the moment.

Woke up to dogs barking madly and a quick good-bye kiss from the b.h. He's off to rock and stuff, and won't be home again until Sunday night. I'll not dwell on that, either.

It is and has been pissing down rain, which is great for the plants (and the water table) and lousy for my mood. I got up and drank the last cup of coffee and finished watching Bright Lights, Big City, and then checked all places on the computer to see if we have a loan/house/job yet. Nothing.

Last night was busy but mostly uneventful at work. Got to taste about eight wines within the first hour, which made the rest of the shift go a lot more smoothly. One of our reps was in and asked if I would be attending the High Museum thing today, and when I said I wouldn't be able to, he said he'd try to snag me something good. Which is unnecessary but appreciated. I'm thinking about going in earlier than I'm supposed to just so I can get the hell out of there tonight. If I get paid I am definitely going down to see The Heap at the GA Theater, but since I have less than no money (there were some banking errors this week) it all depends.

Trying to figure out a way to get to Savannah next Saturday. The b.h. has a show but he will have to leave before I am done with work in order to be there for soundcheck. If anybody's game let me know. This is definitely my last chance to get there before we leave town.

So yeah- that about sums it up. Now I'm going to make another pot of coffee and pace until the mailman gets here.

Customer of the Night#5410: The Prioritizer.

"I love that (Random Napa Cab), but it's sixty bucks. That's like a gram and a half."

It's funny how differently people talk to me at work depending on how I am dressed. I got called in on my day off again, and we're still broke, so I agreed to work. I was wearing an Okkervil t-shirt with a weird and somewhat scary drawing on it and a pair of jeans, rather than my usual button-down shirt ensemble. The guy told me it was his birthday and that he was looking for a nice bottle of red wine. We wandered over to the proper area and he stood gazing at the upper shelves, declaring his love for several of the pricier bottles. But one does have priorities, especially on one's birthday, I suppose, so he got himself a twenty dollar Chilean instead (and presumably made straight for the G@ bar afterward).

We went down to the Watt on Monday night for Garbage Island (featuring their newest member, Patterson Hood). It was nice to be out but I really am a morning person now so we didn't stay late. I do love to watch Craig play, though.

Still waiting on loan info. Still going crazy.

Customer Of The Night #8723: Nauseating Redneck.

The Punisher was not great. It wasn't terrible, but I really cannot recommend it. Which is a shame, because i adore both Ray Stevenson and Dominic West. A lot of people said this movie was really gory, but the way they did it- all quick cuts and choppy editing- it wasn't really that disturbing. Frankly, the Standard Nutjob Guy just wasn't scary. And the script was kind of... meh. So yeah. I don't recommend it.
I do, however, recommend Coney Island's Human Blockhead, the hoppiest lager I believe I have ever tasted. I would never have purchased it (I am not a lager lady), but a co-worker had one and allowed me a sip and I was sold.

On Sunday I had a wine tasting at Harry Bisset's. Eight wines, all white, and about half of them were perfectly drinkable (to me), but they still don't really float my boat the way a good red does. I had to work, but since several friends were there celebrating a birthday I got to wait on them and it was a pretty good time. When I got home the b.h. had finished making manicotti for our dinner party and, as an added bonus, had also made homemade granola bars a la Alt0n Br0wn. Fabulous. I changed clothes and packed up a bottle of Cotes du Rhone and we headed for Casa Del D & S.
Dinner was wonderful, and again the conversation was very animated- we went from the cycle of life and death to goat testicles and back again. I am starting to wish that I could conceal a tape recorder under the table for later use in a screenplay.

Monday I ran some errands, paid some bills, and walked the dogs. I got called in to work because my manager injured himself in a skate-boarding accident and they needed a cash-register monkey and I need money so it worked out well for everyone.

Early on in the evening, while the day crew was still there, J and I found ourselves together behind the counter when a very sketchy, very drunk guy came in asking the price of a half pint of shitty whiskey. I told him. He asked the price of the full pint. I told him. He fumbled through his pockets, counting out three dollar bills and then a large-ish pile of change. He was fragrant. J was waiting on him, but I was standing several feet away in an attempt to provide moral support and an out if the guy got too chatty.
"You take this? How much is this worth?", he cackled, placing a large chunk of gods only know what on the counter. We ignored him and waited while he dug for more change. He was a few cents short, and in my desperation to stop smelling him I told him we'd manage.
He picked up the chunk again, asking
"How much'll you give me for this?" and handing it to J, who put his hand out.
"What is it?" asked J.
"It's a tooth." Jay jerked his hand away like he had touched a hot stove, fortunately missing the dropped tooth.
"Where'd you get it?"
"It's mine. It came from right here." I turned my back, gagging a little and making myself busy looking for nothing in particular as the guy pulled his cheek open with his filthy fingers to show J a gaping hole in his mouth.

Fucking thing wasn't even gold. What a cheapskate.

Jeebus I am boring. Still nothing to report. Yesterday I did a bunch of housework and walked the dogs a couple times and then went to work and came home and slept and got up and there was no coffee and then went straight back to work.
We're about to watch The Punisher and tomorrow I have some activities planned so hopefully the next post will be more interesting.
Still no word on loan $$ and no house. Been blasting Okkervil River and trying not to worry.

This week has been forever already. Crap.
Tuesday the b.h. and I took the dogs and ran some errands and then drove to Hard Labor State park for some hiking. I have no idea how the park got it's name. It is beautiful, though. And driving there takes you through some insanely wealthy rural areas. Very neat. I took some pictures, but they don't really do any justice of course. Ah well. Spring is springing, and the rolling green hills and quiet two lane highways were exactly what the doctor ordered. that and two fairly strenous miles of hiking in the woods. We all slept like babies that night.











Anyway, Wednesday and today were kind of blurry. Some food-related teevee courtesy of Alton Brown, Anthony Bourdain, and America's Test kitchen, and a few pastries thrown in (back to the new bakery today- pound cake was meh, but the banana fritter totally rocked my world and the coffee kicks ass), but mostly a lot of work. Boring! Not even a good customer story.

Sonovabitch.

I just found out that we lost a chance at the perfect rental house because the woman's repeated e-mails were trapped by my motherfucking spam filter. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck!!!!!!! I am through with yahoo.

I was about five minutes late to the work meeting yesterday. Unfortunately that left me nearly two hours of meeting to sit through. I am not known for hiding my feelings well ("subtlety, thy name is heybartender" is a favorite and fitting quote from a good friend), and I must have been in rare from yesterday because one of my coworkers came up to me straight after and laughed a bit, asking if I was okay and remarking about the look on my face.
I actually got some sleep on Saturday night, so at least I didn't snap. I'm not going to be here much longer, but I do need a job until I leave.
Thew b.h. made a fantastic tortilla soup for our weekly dinner party. When we got there we found that our host was alone, having sent his lady on the road to S0uth by S0uthwest. I am insanely jealous, but I couldn't afford to go even if I were able to take time off from work.
Anyway, some other folks brought salad and pastries, D made two kinds of soup, and I brought a bottle of The Lackey Shiraz and a six pack of Sierra Nevada. Dinner was hilarious. The group was particularly lively this week, with one guest regaling us with stories from her job, which were eerily similar to The Office, but unique to her industry. Her boss is Ricky Gervais' Arkansian counterpart, and apparently he is moving his family here. I told J that she simply must start a blog. At very least it would chronicle the downfall of her company for all of the people who are going to ask "what happened?" when it's all over. At most, I think it would garner a serious following and could lead to a book deal. The guy is seriously deranged. It's awesome.
We didn't stay late, because the b.h. is still not sleeping properly and was exhausted, so we came home and watched Feasting on Asphalt. I had half of a blackout stout left in the fridge, so I poured it over some Breyer's coffee ice cream. I got three solid hour of sleep thanks to that.
I'm well into The Fortress of Solitude and really enjoying it. Still plugging away at Party Out Of Bounds, and immersed in both beer and wine books. My French lessons podcast is coming along slowly but surely, and I'm nearly finished with a two months old copy of The Believer. The new one is still in plastic on the coffee table. So business as usual, I guess.

I got some sleep last night, but it was restless, and since I went to bed just out of the shower the result was that I awoke this morning with even darker circles under my eyes and hair that would not lie down. I didn't have time to shower again before work, so I showed up looking like Dennis Leary in Rescue Me. The first season- you know, pre AA, post-bender (and fistfight). Yeah. Not pretty.
I went to the new bakery this morning and got an egg and cheese biscuit, which was awesome, and a doughnut that wasn't. Got to work a few minutes early. Mostly a smooth and fairly busy day. Which doesn't make for interesting blogging, but I promise that if I don't get any sleep tonight I will blather derangedly in the next post. Hell, I might do that anyway.
Going to pour a Brooklyn Black Chocolate Stout ("blackout stout" to my co-workers) and hope for the best.
Adios, amigos.

Linky Linky

Andrew Sull1van is on fir with the links today. Check it:

http://www.losanjealous.com/nfc/

http://presurfer.blogspot.com/2009/03/sturgeon-face.html

This one is my favorite:

http://blotundeisen.blogspot.com/2009/03/test-subject-9-michael-ix-williams.html

One and a half beers down. Crossing my fingers for sleep.

So I guess I'll Just Sleep When I'm Dead.

Yep, I am still awake. I mean, I have slept a few hours, but not near as many as I should have. Last night was another slow one at work, and I would say roughly half of the customers I did have were crazy in one way or another.
There was the "I don't buy French wine" guy, who I believe was a car salesman. They are not known for their good taste, so I felt no urge to correct him). He was wearing sunglasses and never took them off throughout our entire exchange, though our entire exchange was conducted indoors. He was also wearing an incredibly gaudy gold ring, a Bee ehM dubbleeWe polo shirt(he had one parked in our lot), had a really bad mustache. He wanted "a good red" for under ten dollars, shot down virtually every suggestion I had, and answered any questions I asked (trying to narrow down what he wanted) in a hilariously egotistical manner. I gave up and walked away from him, and careened straight into a very diminutive man in his sixties who asked a million questions and hated everything I suggested to him. He kept talking about points, and Parker, and he had an eyePhone so he G00gle searched everything anyway. I don't mind people asking a lot of questions and wanting to be informed, but if our palates are so obviously different, why keep asking me what I think? And really, how does one answer the question
"Is this really worth fifty dollars?", armed with the knowledge that this annoying little man is going to come back in two weeks? Obviously he was setting a trap for me, and I had no intention of springing it.

I also had a very long exchange with the Nice Guy's wife. She was trying to decide what to get for NGs birthday celebration, and she seemed very wound up about getting it just right. I had stepped out front for a moment with my Regular Russian Customer, a youngish woman who has a very nice boyfriend and no friends in this town at all. She is very likable and though we have very little in common I think we might be friends if I were not about to leave town. Ah well. Anyway, when I came back, Adam was standing in the wine department with NG's wife. He had a pained expression on his ace and had removed his glasses, rubbing the place where they had rested on his nose. When he saw me he immediately brightened up, and then as soon as I got within a few feet of them he was off, blathering niceties over his shoulder and practically running back to the cash register.
She is a very nice woman, but she is obviously very concerned about getting this thing just right, which makes for a lot of indecision and more hand holding than I ever have to do with her husband. It was a long process, but thirty minutes later I finally had her out the door with a case of wine for the party and a bottle of rose' to go home and drink immediately.
At the end of the night, Stan and Adam and I chilled a Smuttynose Russian Imperial Stout while we ran through the store as quickly as possible, straightening and stocking and shutting things down. That took about three minutes, which was as much time as the beer needed. It was chilled to perfection. Stan divided it evenly between three glasses, and we all made the same face as we brought it to our noses. It smells awesome. And it tastes even better. It is hoppy, and malty, and creamy, and were I not so fucking exhausted I would have happily stayed for another. Three thumbs way up.
When I got home I sent the b.h. to bed. I grabbed a quick shower and finished the tofu curry, stupidly not opening another beer to go with it. I started watching an episode of Unc0rked, but Kilgor wouldn't stop whining so I shut it off and went to bed.
The wind was pretty nasty, loud enough that neither Kilgore nor I could quite relax, so I turned on the fan for some white noise. This had the effect of knocking him directly out, and I was awake for another hour, after which I slept fitfully and awoke feeling like shit. So here I am. The good news is that I finally uploaded some pictures I've been meaning to show you.

This is my new favorite coffee mug, courtesy of K. It looks just like the paper cups you see smashed in the street all over New York.



This is the hawk that I am fairly certain is nesting somewhere in the yard. She has been quite vocal recently. This picture was taken from here at the computer desk in the office.



This is the first icicle we ever grew in Georgia. Not the sheet of snow that is hanging precariously from our tin roof. We could hear that thing moving, very incrementally for a couple days after the snow. It crashed to the ground while we were out getting groceries.





Here's the long shot of said sheet, just before it fell:

I've been having a hell of a time sleeping lately. Weird, violent dreams, extreme temperature changes, and of course my old friend the moon have all conspired to keep me awake, no matter how tired I am or how many beers I have to help me along.

I went out the other night with my friend J. We had a lovely cheese plate and some very tasty beer, and were later joined by our other friend J, whom we never see because his job keeps him on the road most of the time. Sam had just returned from England and was going to join us but didn't. The weather was unusually warm, and I was very glad to be out. As I said, it didn't help me sleep at all, but I had a nice time.

Work has been unbearably slow. I continue to hope that no one gets laid off and my departure allows for everybody to have enough hours. I still have no departure date, but when it happens it is going to happen fast. Can't imagine how I'm going to find a job when we move, but we'll see.

Oddly enough, I have managed (so far) to have a good attitude despite all the weirdness. The moon is officially on the wane now, so hopefully I will sleep tonight. Wish me luck.

So schtamtisch (still don't know how to spell it) was Indian food on Sunday. It was also sparsely attended, so the b.h. and I have plenty of leftovers, which is fabulous. I was not very impressed by the wine I brought. Serves me right for picking it for the label. It was Gewurztraminer, which I normally love, but it was from Washington or Oregon or some nonsense. I should have stuck with Alsace. Anyway, D really liked the bottle, and that's who I chose it for, so it wasn't a total loss.
We also had some Lagunitas India Pale Ale, which was hoppy and floral and yummy and a perfect accompaniment to the food. The b.h. and D slaved in the kitchen for hours while S and I flipped through catalogs and watched birds in their yard. The weather was remarkably warm, and we ate on their screened-in porch. A stopped by on his way out of town, grabbed a bite to eat and poured us all a taste of homemade apple brandy he had gotten from a friend. It tasted exactly like you think it would: like an apple soaked in lighter fluid. I took a sip and poured the rest into D's glass. The b.h. did the same.
We got home early and the b.h. passed out on the couch (all that slaving in the kitchen wears a man out), so I poked around on the internets and re-ordered our netflix queue and generally fucked off until I was finally tired as well.
I awoke yesterday to a panicked shout from the kitchen. Kilgore decided to bolt, and the b.h. was scrambling to get some shoes on to go after him. I ran downstairs and threw on some pants and shoes and mismatched socks and jumped into the car. We had no idea which way he had gone, so the b.h. continued to walk while I drove several of our usual walking routes. Had he been in any of the wooded areas I never would have seen him, since his coat would blend right in with the dirt and dead leaves.
Fortunately, Kilgore found whatever it was that he had caught the scent of, and began screaming in the woods behind the house (he had apparently circled around, so we were looking in the wrong direction), and the b.h. came running and found him shrieking and bleeding from his hind foot, and yet looking quite pleased with himself. He must have caught whatever it was, and found that it didn't want to play with him. He was fine but for a couple small bite marks, and as I said, he looked pretty happy.
I dropped the b.h. at work and came back home to do a few things around the house. I swapped a couple e-mails with my buddy MT, and we agreed to meet around noon and hang out. We went to a sandwich shop, then headed over to the giant corporate book store, where they were having a fire sale on CDs and DVDs. MT bought himself a couple, and I got a copy of Joe Strummer's posthumous release with the Mescaleros, which is called Streetcore, and which I am listening to right now. It's lovely.
I also put aside a copy of Season 3 of Anthony Bourdain's show No Reservations, just in case we came up with the money and the b.h. wanted it.
MT and I went over to Big City Bread and had some iced tea and cookies and talked about stuff for awhile. We saw my friend John and his dad, we soaked up some sun and watched some dogs, and eventually wandered back here to sit on the deck.
Eventually the b.h. called needing a ride, and MT had to go to the grocery, so we parted ways.
When the b.h. and I got back to the house, we found in the mail two surprise checks from our cell phone company. Last year when we got our new phones we had put down a deposit on each of them, and since a year is up we got our deposits back. Very exciting. So the b.h. decided that he did indeed want that Anthony Bourdain CD set. We went back to the Giant Corporate Bookstore and got that and two movies for his dad, whose birthday is next week. Excellent. I briefly eyed a copy of The Tick vs. Season Two, but couldn't make myself want it enough to spend the money.
Last night we ate leftovers and watched Milk, which we enjoyed immensely, and a couple episodes of No Reservations, and went to bed fairly early.
Today I woke with considerable less adrenaline than I did yesterday. I got a cup of coffee in the mug that K brought me from NYC, which I love and I need to post photos of), and wandered onto the back deck. There were some very small deer in the woods about thirty yards away, and KG almost ran off yet again, but the b.h. got a hand on him and all was well. There were several deer back there, and they didn't seem bothered by us at all. Nor did the hawk, which I still think is nested somewhere very close to the house, and which was screeching and flapping about around the pond. Our friend the Great Blue Heron ("Big Bird" to us) is also back, and between them and the deer and the turtles and the kingfisher, I remarked to the b.h. that our yard was "like wild fucking kingdom."
I do love the Spring.

Customer(s) of the Night #9123: The Good, The Dumb, and The Perplexing.

Nice Guy came back on Saturday and bought me that bottle of Shiraz. I tried to beg off, but he wasn't hearing it and so I gave in and now I have a great bottle of wine to share with my friends at Samtisch (not sure about that spelling, but it's what we call the weekly dinner gathering. German word for sandwich, I think). This week we're having Indian food, so I'm bringing Gewurztraminer and India Pale Ales, but hopefully next week we'll have Shirazable food.
Another customer asked me "Do you have mixed drinks?" I paused, confused, then asked if she meant the pre-mixed ("mall-ternatives" we call them at the LLS), bottled rum/vodka/swill beverages that are usually pink and always awful.
"No, like mixed drinks. Do you make those here?"
"Uh, that'd be a no." You know, because we're a liquor store, and not a fucking bar. WTF? Very confusing.

What was perplexing was a customer who came in very early in the morning, bought a plastic pint of our cheapest gin and a pack of our cheapest cigarettes, and them wished us good day and left. I was barely paying attention, as I was not waiting on this customer, but when the door closed behind said customer and nobody else was in the store, my co-worker Adam asked if i would please run to the back and grab him some eye bleach.
I looked up from the computer, where I had been researching a particular dessert wine.
"Hmmm?"
"Bleach. For my eyes. So that I might try to burn out that image," he said, louder this time, gesturing toward the retreating figure in the parking lot. It was unclear what the sex of this person was, but once I actually looked at him/her, he/she looked like the sort of person that I should have been able to smell from a distance. After a prolonged analysis, we decided that it was a woman, albeit a very masculine woman with a voice deep enough (probably from those cheap smokes) to confuse anyone who was not paying careful attention. Her baseball cap barely covered her bemulleted head, and I was impressed by her ability to light a cigarette with matches while walking into the wind toward the bus stop. She stuck the rest of the pack into a fannypack that rested on her right hip. This was not the only fannypack that I saw this weekend. Do I smell a comeback? If so, can we rename them so that they sound as funny to us as they sound to the British? cootersack, perhaps? Or maybe vagibag? Anyone?

Customer of the Night #26408: For Once a Nice Guy.

He shops here all the time. I know him well, I know what he drinks and what his wife drinks (although I have never met her). I know that his stocks are not doing well and that he is learning to drink inexpensive wine like the rest of us plebs. He is several years younger than I am, and good friends with Sam, who is one of my favorite people (and arguably the best boss I have ever had).
So we walk the Cabs and Merlots. We talk about Malbec and the merits of Chile and Argentina, and eventually he just starts looking longingly at the upper shelves again. He has a great French Syrah in hand, one of my favorites which he has had before and likes very much, but he can't help wistfully caressing a bottle of sixty dollar Shiraz.

"You do realize that I am having a difficult time feeling sorry for you, right?" I smirk at him.
"Yeah, I know. But have you had this?"
"I have. Not at my house, of course, but at a tasting. It is phenomenal. But that stuff in your other hand probably won't kill you, either. Now buck up."
"When I have money again, I'm going to buy you a bottle of this, just for being you."
It's not every day that somebody expresses a desire to do something nice for me in response to my sarcasm. Here's hoping the DOW will rise again.

We Grew An Icicle!

It's true. I blame myself for this weather, because at work on Saturday I kept talking shit about how I would believe the weatherman when I actually saw snow. I have lived here for almost nine years and had yet to see any stick for more than an hour or two. Well, I stand corrected.

I took this picture because I thought that this is what we would get. This is what it usually looks like when it snows in Athens.



Then a bit later, I took this:



Now it was actually, you know, sticking. A little.




We forgot to get firewood on the way home Saturday night, and since there was a good chance we would lose power (and therefore heat) in the storm, I ventured out to get some in the middle of the shit hitting the fan on Saturday afternoon. After nearly getting stuck in the driveway, I slid all the way to the main road, where I found a broken traffic signal and a lot of very confused drivers. At this point I called the b.h. and told him to call his folks and tell them we were not going to make it for dinner.
It took me forty minutes to get to the grocery store and back. I got the last two bundles of firewood though, which was convenient. People were freaking out. the poor kids that had to round up the shopping carts at the grocery store were really pissed.




Since it never snows here, there are no plows and no salt trucks. The snow was so deep that the bottom of our car was scraping along in it the whole way home. Trees were bending and snapping all over the place. It was ugly.







Luckily we only lost power for about fifteen minutes. The b.h. and I took the dogs into the yard to play, then spent most of the evening playing Trivial Pursuit and Scrabble. He went into work several hours late yesterday, and I drove around town taking pictures. Everything is really pretty blanketed in snow, except for the hundred-plus year old trees that had broken or been completely uprooted.
The snow is still on the ground today, and we have grown an icicle off of one side of our tin roof, but I am too lazy (and warm) to get out and photograph it right now. In fact, I think I'm going to join the dogs on the couch.

Work, Rock, Work, Rock, Work, Rock: A Caledonia Weekend.

Went to work on Thursday, got done around midnight, and made straight for the Harvey Milk show. I had never seen them before, and I knew that they were a good loud rock band and everything, but I did not realize that they were metal. There were a lot of people at the club,more dudes in giant beards than I had counted on, but the more the merrier, in my mind. They were out of my beer, which was disappointing, but I survived. K was there. We smoked and talked outside (K is the devil on my shoulder, and since I knew I would be spending the weekend going out with her I invested in a seven dollar pack of Nat Sherman Lights, on account of their naturalness and whatnot) for a bit, then headed in when the band started. I got claustrophobic fairly quickly and retreated to the patio, where a group of us ladies wound up at a picnic table, smoking and drinking and talking shit, while still being able to watch the band through the door. It was loads of fun.
I was talking with the Queen B when a very young and very drunk guy stumbled up and sat down at a nearby table. She was in the middle of telling a story, and she said "Oh my God!!" a couple times, very loudly. He interjected, awkwardly mumbling something that neither of us could hear at first, then more loudly, and of course he had nothing to say. He had misheard her or misinterpreted or whatever, but he wouldn't let it go. She tried to be polite at first, but he wouldn't bugger off, so eventually we just ignored him. After a few minutes he gave up on B and started to babble at A, another girl at the table. At this point, A guy friend of ours walked up and sat down and the drunk guy fell silent. When he eventually went inside, I turned to J:
"Boy, I wish K had been sitting here. She would have just looked him straight in the eye and told him to fuck off, and I just don't have the balls to do that."
"I thought you knew that guy."
"Nope. Random drunk stranger."
"Ugh."

Just as our conversations had all resumed, the guy comes back.
"Do you mind if I sit next to you?" Of course he has to ask me.
Long pause.
"I guess not."
He sits down.
"You seem kind of bitter-"
"You can sit here as long as you don't talk to me."

There was a brief exchange, during which i tried to explain that we were all there together and having a sort of girls night thing, and that none of us were single (lies!), and that there were plenty of other places to sit. He of course responded by telling me how he had brought his friend here just to see this show and how he didn't live here and how Athens was supposed to be so cool and that people were not, in fact, very friendly. Then he did finally fuck off.
I really hate when people try to put me in that situation. Stupid, drunk, twunt. Do I look like a fucking ambassador? This isn't the U.N. asshole. It's a fucking metal show. Sheesh.
Work was painful on Friday, since I slept like shit and barely at all. There was not enough coffee on the planet that morning. After work I went out to eat with K and her friend A at the grit. I had something called a Caribbean Feast, featuring jerked tofu and plantains and some kind of tomato-ey soup. It was fantastic. Afterward K and I went back to the Caledonia to see Magic Missile. They sing songs about the periodic table. I love them. When they finished playing K and I ran over to see if Dave was at the Manhattan. He wasn't. That was probably for the best, since I then headed home and went to sleep instead of having another beer.
I didn't have to work until ten on Saturday morning, so I was slightly more refreshed. Work was long and dull, and when I got home I took the boys for a walk and waited for the b.h. to get home.
He arrived about an hour and a half after I did, while I was in the middle of Bottle Shock, which I enjoyed immensely. I'm glad I got it through Netflix, because had I read the box at the video store I would have avoided it like the Plague. "The next Sideways or little Miss Sunshine" is not in any way how I would describe this movie. In fact, I am, as the b.h. put it, a little tired of 'The Little Movie That Could'. I was disappointed that Bradley Whitford's role was not bigger, but other than that I thought it was pretty cool. We ate a quick meal of TVP ("chicken" nuggets) and then went downtown.
Ham 1 had a great set. It was their record release, and they had actually pressed vinyl copies, which I love, but I was too broke to buy one. Goat played the best set I've seen them play in ages. Good times were had by all. I geeked out about beer for awhile with my friend B, and have added a couple more to the list of things I need to try.