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.

The b.h. got off to a late start on his tour, due to illnesses and canceled dates in the DBT clan. This resulted in us having two days off together (three if you count Sunday), which was great. Unfortunately, we have absolutely no cash and the weather was crap, so we couldn't just pack the boys in the car and drive up to the mountains, as we are wont to do under better circumstances.
Instead we built fires and read books and ate chili and cornbread and watched movies.
He had never seen Nine to Five, which is on my list of reasons why I remember the seventies fondly. If you haven't seen it recently, you absolutely must. Lily Tomlin has always been a favorite of mine, and of course I love Dolly Parton, but I forgot how effing FUNNY she is.
Also re-watched Sideways. You know, I did like that the first time around, but I think the problem was that the hype was so big that I couldn't help but be at least slightly let down. Virginia Madsen is fabulous and beautiful and underrated and underutilized. Somebody please fix that (looking at you, AJ). Anyway, I have spoken before of this movie and it's effect on the wine industry, which is incredibly frustrating. Having seen it again, I still can't figure it out. The guy is a JACKASS. That's the point. And yet his dismissal of "Fucking Merlot!" has changed the entire wine industry. Bizarre.
There is a very small lizard (anole?) that has been living in our house all winter. He pops up occasionally in a house plant or on a windowsill, and I have rescued him a couple times from the kitchen floor, where he was in danger of being trampled by spastic dogs. Last night he sat on my hand while I watched TV. He is too small to photograph properly, but so cute. After an hour or so he got up and scrambled up the wall of the fireplace and disappeared. Unlike the rodents, I find his presence comforting somehow.
Speaking of rodents, I have neither seen nor heard anything since we put the poison under the house. Cross your fingers. I hated to do it, but they are just too destructive and had gotten smart about avoiding the trap.
Still haven't seen K, but I heard from her yesterday and we have plans for tomorrow. I worked last night and I work tonight and then I'll get paid (Hooray for pay!) and then I'll work tomorrow morning and then I will be free and flush at the same time, which might be dangerous. Planning on seeing my friend MT play at the Farm, and I suspect we might wander in to the Manhattan at some point. You've been warned.

Last night we went to the weekly dinner party at Casa Del D & S. This was the Oscar version, complete with a baby in a gold suit portraying Oscar, with whom we each had a photo taken. Everybody dressed up, because why not, and people brought food that was in some way movie-related. These were all put on display and a contest was had to see who could guess which movie each dish was from. The b.h. won. I had no idea what most of them were about, and was particularly puzzled by a pair of oddly shaped mashed potato mounds, which turned out to be replicas of something(s) from Close Encounters, which I have never seen and am not terribly interested in. The b.h. made cannoli, which was delicious. Actually, I can honestly say (for once) that we made something, because - "Bizarro!" - I helped. I had an idea to bring bottles of both Pinot Noir and (fucking) Merlot, but I forgot until it was too late and since you can't purchase alcohol on Sundays, well, Cotes du Rhone had to suffice. I am expecting Sideways in the mail this week, and although I was not terribly fond of it the first time around, I am looking forward to watching it with fresh (and slightly more wine-educated) eyes.
So yeah, the party was nice, and the Oscars were less boring than usual, which was pleasant. I can still only manage to watch them as background noise for the most part. I have not seen most of the movies that were up for awards this year, because the b.h. and I don't tend to go out to the movies much, except when there's a new superhero or James Bond flick out. Most things I prefer to watch at home, where I am not subjected to other people and don't have to miss anything when I run to the bathroom.
Got to see my friend K again on Saturday. We went out to brunch at The National. He was still a bit green around the edges from Friday night, but after half a Bloody Mary and a few cups of coffee he was back to his old self and we had some fantastic food and got to catch up a bit. It was an unusually warm day (at least for this week it was unusual), so we went over to the square after we ate and sat chatting and avoiding the crazy people for a couple of hours. I dropped him back at his hotel, wishing him a safe journey back to Iraq and promising I'd see him one way or another when he was stateside again in July. Then I picked up the b.h. from work and headed off to the LLS.
Work was uneventful. I still don't know my schedule for the week, because we are cutting back on hours (payroll, not hours of operation) and our manager is having difficulty figuring out how to dole out hours. Sigh.
Anyway, any time I have off this week will be spent attempting to catch up with my other friend K, who is in town this week from New York.
Right. So off to assist the b.h. with our leaky shower. Happy Monday.

Customer of the Night #4216: The Ugly 'Merkin.

So I'm at work last night and this lady comes in. I'm helping another customer, and we are very obviously in the middle of a conversation about his needs. This woman comes up behind the guy I'm helping, on the other side of a row of wine, but only a couple feet away, and says very loudly
"Aw, dammit!"
I pause momentarily, and then continue on our tour of Spanish wine. Another moment later, another outburst, this time a sigh of mixed disappointment and outrage. I smile at the man I am speaking to and then pointedly turn to the woman and say

"I'm sorry, is there something I can help you find?"

She looks up, feigning surprise that I had somehow overheard her.

"Yes, do you have any more of these in the cooler?" She waves aloft a bottle of Riesling.
I glance toward the cooler, which is equidistant from us, maybe fifteen feet away. The bottle that she is referring to has bright pink flowers on the label and a bright pink metal cap. There are several bottles of it virtually shouting at us from the cooler.
"There are at least three that I can see from here."
"Well good, because you only have two over here."
"How many will you be needing?"
"I want three."
I retrieve one from the cooler, thanking the man I had been helping and plastering on a smile I reserve for PEOPLE WHO SUCK.
"Here you go. What else can I help you with?"
"I need another Riesling."
"Any particular Riesling?
"It's... (*sigh)... I can't remember... It's in a blue bottle. It's made my Sell-bick."

By this I know that she means Selbach, and because I try very hard not to be an asshole (out loud in front of customers when I am at work, anyway), I chose to ignore her mispronunciation, and instead started to answer her.
"We have some of their wines, but we don't have any in a blue bottle." I walk around the side of the wine rack, pointing out the ones that we do have.

"It's SELL-BICK," she says, more loudly, as if this will magically make the wine she wants appear.
"Yes, I heard you. We have several of their wines, but not in a blue bottle."
"The only place that has it is a little- well, I don't mean to be ugly, but it's owned by a foreigner, and I just don't- I prefer to buy from Americans."

There was a short pause, long enough for me to think twice about telling her to go fuck herself, and just long enough for her to realize that she was talking to the wrong 'Merkin.
"Well, we don't have that," I said, and turned very literally on my heel and walked away from her. I approached the next customer, smiling, and gave him help he neither needed nor asked for, just so I didn't have to look at her again.

My bosses were not born here. They came here and opened a store and raised their kids in the back and worked their asses off and memorized the Constitution and learned the language and became citizens and paid taxes and bought a house and cars and became part of a community. They have been here over twenty years. They are successful. They are good people and fantastic employers. What the fuck does it mean to be American? Who isn't a foreigner? How many generations does it take?

I only wish I had been quick enough to start belting out the lyrics to "Hot Blooded", or jump up and down going "Holy shit!! Lou Gramm has a liquor store in Athens?! Where?!" Ah well. Next time. There's sure to be a next time.
On a similar note,this is pretty damned awesome.
Also, a scoop of Breyer's Vanilla Bean ice cream is especially good in a Brooklyn Black Chocolate Stout. Seriously.

Tuesday I got my hair done. I went late and Shayne was off the clock, so I brought Prosecco and Elderflower Liquer, which we mixed and drank while we were gossiping and waiting for my hair to change color. She is going to New York in a couple months, and we were swapping stories about our previous trips (she goes a couple times a year for work, which makes me incredibly jealous). I am longing to go with her next time. It is highly unlikely.
Anyway, that finished I went and shopped for a bit, then went over and had a beer and talked politics with a friend while I waited for the b.h. to get through with band practice.
Wednesday I ran errands and got called in to help out at work for a bit. My phone rang around three o'clock and it was my nephew. He was in Tennessee with two of his friends, en route to Florida, and they had a few hours to kill and would it be okay if they stopped by? Of course!
I went home, straightened up a bit (and I really mean a bit- they're 21 and male and could care less, after all), then I dropped the b.h. at band practice and met my friends at Happy Hour. K is in from Iraq for a few days. I was happy to see him. He looks great. He is here for a few days, so I'm hoping to catch up with him again for breakfast on Saturday. There were a lot of people there, so we didn't get a lot of real talking in, but I was amazed at how relieved I was to actually see him. I guess I hadn't realized how much I worry until I stopped worrying for a minute.
Anyway, my nephew called and I went to meet him at my house. They all three showered, then we went back downtown. My friends had mostly left from their happy hour (not a total surprise since it was ten p.m. on a Wednesday), so we had a quick beer with Casey and Joanie and then met the b.h. over at Flicker.
My nephew and his friends are very sweet and totally hilarious, and even take it well when I rail on their collective favorite band (N1cklback), shaking my head and remarking how I had utterly failed as the Cool Aunt. To be fair, they are all fans of The Dictatortots, and seemed to enjoy The Replacements, Slobberbone, and Grand Buffet. It's just, well... Yeah.
They had been awake for over a day already (ah, to be that young again), so I suggested that we get some pizzas and get back to the house so they could nap, or at least relax, before another eight hours in the car. They agreed and we came back to watch The Hulk(The good one, with Edward Norton and Tim Roth).
I was barely awake when I sent them on their way at two in the morning. It was great seeing them What a nice surprise.

Work was dumb.
Burn After Reading was funnier than I remembered.
The dinner party was great.
Donnie makes wicked good pretzels.
Sometimes rats just need to be poisoned.
This may be one of those times.
I'm still debating.

Wormy.

Just finished that 33 1/3 book about Murmur. The first part was good, the middle almost lost me completely because it was so technical as to be painfully boring - I actually skimmed and even skipped some pages altogether, which is completely out of character - and then the end was very interesting again. And most importantly, I finished so I can pass it on to the b.h. My favorite quote by far is this one:
"The same can be said for Murmur's lyrics: anyone's guess is truly as good as anyone else's... the interpretation of rock lyrics is a perilous and often embarrassing prospect I'd prefer to steer clear of out of basic concern of trying not to sound like a complete doofus. In this regard, no rock band in the history of magnetic tape has invited such disaster as R.E.M."
He goes on to provide some hilarious (and some just plain sad) examples.


Almost finished with The Singing Sands and A Hedonist in the Cellar, too. I expect I'll be through both of them before bed. Josephine Tey is just what the doctor ordered for bedtime: Smart enough to be interesting, mysterious enough to make me fight to stay awake for a couple extra pages, but light enough that my mind isn't racing when I finally do decide to put her down. Jay McInerney is just fun and funny. And since I'm trying to learn whatever I can right now about wine, this book has been extremely helpful.

I have long since finished Service Included, which the b.h. has also finished. We both liked many aspects of it but mostly felt that it wasn't novel material. The thing is, I appreciate having insight into the workings of a superfine dining establishment more than anything. While reading this book, I was very impressed by the author's passion for food and the restaurant's dedication both to food and to service, but I found myself at best bored and and at worst annoyed when she talked about her relationship. This is the same way I feel about The West Wing. Stick to what you know, people, and stop trying to be all things blah blah blah. In any case, I learned some things from the book, and that is always a plus.
As soon as I finish JT I'm going to finish Coraline, and then possibly see the movie. I'll also be dipping back into The Fortress of Solitude this week. There are unopened magazines piling up all over the place, too. It's all very exciting.

Happy Valentine's Day, Y'all.

Reading up on different styles of porters. Had one from Smuttynose last night, and it is glorious. Also watched one episode of Smiley's People before passing out cold. I'm assuming that the reason I have no idea what's going on is that it was the first episode.
Two long days at work, and I'm about to embark on another. And then, Sunday. Ahhhhhh.

I think we're going to a dinner party, but we haven't decided what we're making yet. Or rather, we haven't decided what the b.h. is making yet. I think I'll go peruse our stack of Cook's Illustrated.

Happy New Year, Indeed.

A PHOTO ONE




These pictures are great, but it is difficult to do justice to the experience of Chinese New Year in Chinatown, NYC. I also have some video, but blogger is being a bugger and won't upload it properly. Ah well, you'll have to use your imagination.

I had no idea what to expect, but I bundled up and the b.h. and I followed K and soon we were knee deep in confetti and revelers. This was not the actual parade day (we were a week early for that), but it was some kind of firecracker festival or something. Apparently you can only light fireworks during the day (can't say I blame the FDNY for that), so instead of big brilliant fireballs, there was a whole lot of flying confetti.



This is the kind of confetti cannons that were going off everywhere.

The Accountant quoted Mark Twain and Waylon Jennings(complete with actual impersonation! Waylon produced a record for one of his old bands), and told us the story of his wife's great grandfather, after whom Butler Avenue on Tybee Island is named. He was the first mayor of Tybee, and of course, the story behind that is hilarious. It seems that there was another man who was to be the Mayor. They all took a boat over to the island, and the mayor-to-be fell overboard and drowned, leaving great grandpa to take his place.
We owe some money to the government, but other than that it was a lovely time. I'm going to miss that guy. We may just fly back here to do our taxes next year.
After that I took the b.h. to band practice, grabbed him a burrito and dropped it off, and went over to Flicker to have a beer. Jenn was kind enough to meet me and regale me with stories of the Slobberbone shows I missed over the weekend in Texas. I had a couple beers and then the b.h. came back and we went home.
Watched W., the movie. I am still not an Oliver Stone fan, but it was enjoyable enough. Josh Brolin is awesome.
Today I dropped the b.h. at work and ran some errands. I left my headlights on for a short while at one point (with the car off) and so killed my battery. It had actually been drained several times before and I knew it was getting time for a new one. I ended up getting it today. Boooo. But yay. At least it didn't die in the middle of the night and/or in the middle of nowhere. Whatever. I gave KG a bath and picked up the b.h. from work just in time to get to work myself. Business is down at the LLS, what with the economy in the toilet and all. It was a long and slow night. Now I'm home and I've had a Smuttynose Porter and I'm ready to turn in. Hasta manana.

Yesterday we got all gussied up and went to our friends' wedding reception. The weather was gorgeous, and we didn't need coats even outside. Found out that a couple friends are pregnant (on purpose, which is always great news), had a glass of wine and some terrific food from The National, and fantasized about getting married again. The first time was a lot of fun, but I think I'd just like to throw a big shindig like that every few years.
Last night we watched a movie and went to bed early. Today I worked at the LLS for a few hours, long enough to be there when we received our first shipment of Smuttynose beer, which is very exciting. I didn't have enough for a mixed twelve pack, so I grabbed a six pack of the porter and I'm chilling it as we speak.
Tonight I have a wine and chocolate tasting to attend (oh no, don't throw me in the briar patch!). I feel like I may be coming down with something, but it could just be allergies. Not sure. In any case I'm off tomorrow so I'm not terribly worried about it.
Tomorrow we go to the accountant. I love going to the accountant, not because I enjoy giving money to the government, but because our accountant is hilarious. He has a great blue-blood Southern accent and always has stories about his younger days in rock and roll. ("Once, we were at Cher's house in Malibu..."). I doubt very seriously that any accountant we find in Vermont will have a gold record on his or her wall, but we can always hope.

We have a new hard drive, but the b.h. is still trying to retrieve everything from backup. We'll see.
Thursday night we both worked, and I had the good fortune of getting sprung early (I had a Paper Scissors Rock duel with my co-worker to win the privilege; I chose rock, of course, and therefore got to rock), which allowed me to see Patterson Hood & friends at Farm 255. His friends included William Tonks, Dave Barbe, Easy B, Don Chambers, John Neff, and the fabulous Mr. Dave Marr. I got to hear many of my favorite songs, quaff a couple Dogfish Head 90 minute pale ales, and hang out with the b.h. It was indescribably wonderful. We had every intention of going to the 40 Watt after, but it was very late when they finally quit and we both had to work early in the morning, so we decided to head home instead (I really am getting too responsible in my old age).
Friday morning was painful, but with the bonus that by the time I was fully awake my work day was half over. Work was enjoyable.
I got fresh samosas from the boss lady's parents, who know from samosas. They were cheap and delicious, and kept the b.h. from having to do any manual labor when we got home.
We rented Death Rac3, which we knew was not going to be thought-provoking (I could watch Ian McShane butter toast for two hours, though, so who cares?), and basically just turned off our brains when we got home. Went to bed very early. Still not finished reading Coraline, despite its being a children's book and an easy read, because I keep nodding off moments after turning in.
Woke up early to take the b.h. to work, stopped at the bank and the grocery store, and started some yard work when I got back. It is warm and beautiful outside today, and I'm trying to decide where to take the dogs for a short field trip before I go to work.

The computer repairman is in the next room. He's replacing the hard drive on our new desktop. As I have probably said before, the thing isn't even paid for yet, but luckily we have a lot of warranty.I can only hope that we haven't lost anything important. Mostly for me that would include all of the photos I have taken for the last five years. We do have backup and all that, and the b.h. seems unconcerned, but that is because he is technically inclined and understands technology, whereas it fills me with suspicion and fear.
Note to self: pay for a flickr account and upload everything. That way, when it gets lost, it will be lost to the ether and not just buggered in a useless chunk of metal on a shelf in our office.
Anyway, I've distracted the dogs with K0ng toys filled with peanut butter (bought ages ago and therefore salmonella free!) so they do not molest the poor man. They are behaving for the moment.
We both worked the daytime yesterday, then went to his friends' house to get some firewood. Last night we watched the rest of the Tom Petty documentary, which I highly recommend to everyone, and then did some reading and turned in early. We both work late today, and then the b.h. will go downtown to see Mother Jackson and The Heap and I will join him when I get done at the LLS. Which basically means that working tomorrow morning is going to suck, but there you have it :)
Have a good day everybody, and perhaps I will see you at the rock show.

The b.h. has just informed me that his band got a really shit gig for really good money at a sports bar in Alphafuckingretta in a couple weeks. Hilarious! I kind of want to go just because the idea is a bit ridiculous.

I started The Fortress of Solitude and Neil Gaiman's children's book Coraline. That movie is either just out or about to be, so I wanted to read the book first. I'm enjoying them both.

I know that talking about the weather is a bit of a copout, but right now it is 24 degrees ("feels like 10"!)outside. I would guess it's about forty inside. I am sitting under a dog and a giant blanket with the heat blasting and I am freezing my ass off.

Friday the high will be sixty.

Watching the end of the new Tom Petty documentary Runnin' Down a Dream. It is two discs of genius. I have always loved the man, but now I am beginning to understand what a badass he truly is. I have to go to work at the LLS in a few minutes. As it will surely be even colder there, I am not looking forward to it. Hopefully Lynn will call and need my help at her store so I won't get stuck. We need to collect some firewood before we come home tonight, too. Damn. Think anyone will notice if I just stay here and hunker down?

Shit. Alright, gotta go.

Want!

Decisions, decisions. I don't have any small children, so a plush uterus would be no danger. But the brain is also adorable.

37 Hours.

Off, that is. Tonight and tomorrow. Both of us. Now I just have to figure out which book I'm going to read next. I tore through Service Included, which I got from K, in just a couple of days. Now I'm trying to find that 33 1/3 R.E.M book again, and I've got The Collected Stories of Leonard Michaels (which Roy suggested and I bought with my b-day git certificate from MT), and also Fortress of Solitude, which K bought me at Strand Books (more on that later. Plus I've got the Joe Strummer biography, one called The Gift, which I started already, and a pile of other stuff to read.
Oh, decisions, decisions. Leonard Michaels first, because I can read one story in a short time. I'm gonna go grab a beer and flip a coin or whatever.

New York, Part Deaux.

We woke up earlyish on Sunday, had some coffee and kolacky cookies (I can't find the word "kolacky" in the plural, so there you have it), layered ourselves fully, and set out to shop. I found a lot of stuff that I loved at the first store we went to, but I didn't want to spend all of my money on the first day so I settled for a long wool J. Cr3w coat and a shorter green tweedy Gu3ss coat that has really great buttons and detailing. They were both under twenty bucks. The store was called the Buffal0 Exchange, and I guess it's a chain. Some new stuff, some used stuff. It was chock full of hipsters and bargains. We each left with a full bag, and headed back to the restaurant where K works to drop them off in the office. We got on the subway and went into Manhattan, where we stopped at a Japanese version of the Gap. the name of that store escapes me, but I liked a lot of their clothes. The fitting rooms had long waits, so after a couple of unsuccessful attempts at new jeans I picked up a skirt and a few pairs of socks that were on sale and we got on our way.
The next stop was a place that was full of stuff I really wanted and didn't remotely need. Pearl River, I think it was called. The clothes were ridiculously expensive, but the dishes were very cool and all reasonably priced. I picked up a coffee cup and two bowls (ours keep breaking in the dishwasher. Note to self: No more dishes from fucking Target).
I got a call from the b.h. saying that the band was at the club and they were planning on eating at Katz, the deli famous for its giant pastrami sandwiches (and also for the famous faked orgasm scene in When Harry Met Sally). We stopped by the club to say hello, but chose to eat at a more vegetarian friendly restaurant in the East Village.
Again, I do not remember the name, but it was a full-on veggie place, complete with some kind of shitty "natural" and "healthy" substitute for coffee (as fucking if). K was hilarious. She texted her friend M, who had recommended the place, swearing to get revenge.
Our waitress was slow and not terribly professional, but the food was remarkable. We both had dessert, too. After that we went back to her place to get cleaned up and dressed for the show.
When we got back to the club, it was a thousand degrees inside, which was bad because I had dressed for the cold and immediately started having a panic attack. I went backstage and dumped off a few layers and my coat and was much more comfortable. We ordered a draft for K and a bottle for me, which came to fourteen dollars. Ouch. Then we realized that we had left the cigarettes on her kitchen table, so we ran across the street to buy another pack. $9.25. For C@mel Lights. I have no idea how regular people can afford to smoke there. Luckily we ran into a friend and former Athenian Chris, who was putting the band up for the night. He bought a round for K and me.
The show was great, despite the fact that Donnie had mostly lost his voice. The crowd seemed to like it, too. Afterward K and I went up the street and got the most incredible falafel I think I have ever eaten. It was cheap and delicious, and it made up for the overpriced beer. When we got back to the club, K was accosted by two homeless guys who had earlier harassed her while she was out smoking. I blew past them and opened the door of the club, only to be told by the surly bouncer that there was "NO FOOD ALLOWED INSIDE!"
I told him to get the guys off of us, and he consented to let us hover by the door and eat while the band loaded out. This was made more difficult by the fact that I had bought a sandwich for the b.h., too. I stood there starving, unable to either eat (too messy for one hand) or set one down (pitas are not built to lie down), until K finished and was able to assist me.
We all split up for the night, the b.h. coming with K and me in a cab while the rest of the band went with Chris. It was nice to have the b.h. back, even if just for the night. Made the air mattress a little fuller and me a little warmer. We had a glass of wine, watched an episode of Laverne and Shirley, showered, and turned in.

Double.

Working the Local Liquor Store around eleven this morning. Then a two hour break, then Rock Club. Should be fun, but I'm really looking forward to having tomorrow off and getting some rest. Computer still fucked, so I can't upload NYC pics. The thing isn't even paid for yet and it's already crashed. Not a good sign. Anyway, I'm going to walk the boys before work. Hopefully I'll have something fun to report later.

*Later*
Well, that was exciting. The LLS was particularly busy due to the impending Big Game. Gods I'm glad I no longer work in a sports bar. If I had to work tomorrow I would surely shoot somebody. Anyway, at least most people were in a good mood.

The b.h. has had a tour-related neck injury. No, not the infamous "rock neck", but just as insidious: Couch Neck. Seems he slept somewhere too soft and woke up unable to turn his head much. Thankfully it was the last day and he didn't have to play in that condition. We went to the chiropractor yesterday and he spent the evening on the couch icing and self-medicating whilst I slung drinks.
The first two bands were underwhelming and gay, respectively. First I was exposed to the new 0F M0ntreal record, which was, to put it politely, not my cup of tea. Next was a decent enough band from Nashville, followed by a soul(?) band made up of some Atlanta all-stars. The lead singer was wearing red pants of the new-fangled and short-waisted variety, which rode so low that they didn't even come close to touching his red vest/sleeveless shirt combo. Later I referred to the hair in that part of his mid-section as a Trail of Tears. I had meant to say Happy Trail, but what came out was far more fitting. I don't know who told that guy that those pants were a good idea, but they ought to be slapped.
The Modern Skirts were fantastic, as usual. I don't own and have not heard the new record, but the material they played from it was catchy and fun. It's really cool to see them playing to such a large and responsive crowd, having been there years ago when they sucked out loud to six people. For the encore they brought out members of both opening bands and one Mr. Mike Mills, who sand harmonies and played tambourine. It was great.
Afterward I cleaned up quick, counted my money, and said a quick hello to Phillip and Jojo before taking my leave as quickly as possible.

It's Up To You.

The restaurant was packed with a hipster brunch crowd of 25 to 35-year old people who looked like they had also just gotten off a plane from Athens. K took my bags and shoved them in a back hallway, and I elbowed my way to the bar, where I was served a fantastic cup of coffee and a tiny dish of fried dough balls (doughnut holes). I ordered eggs florentine and chatted a few minutes with the bartender, who I immediately liked.
After virtually inhaling my food and three cups of coffee, I went out for a stroll to kill some time while K finished up work. Having no real idea where I was going, I just started off in a general direction. It was cold - colder than I expected, and dirty. Walking under a highway overpass it brought to mind a specific corner where I regularly sat at a red light in my old neighborhood in Chicago. There is a specific bus emission/old urine smell that makes me just a bit nostalgic for the late nineties every time, and I was momentarily soaking in it, and it was good.
My phone rang in my pocket. I talked to the b.h. for a moment, remarking that very guy that passed my on the street looked like A.J. (obviously way ahead of his time, fashion-wise, that one), and then begging off the phone because I had left my gloves in my bag and I had to keep my hands in my pocket for fear of them falling off.
I walked about a mile all told, then headed quickly back to the restaurant for another cup of coffee.
By the time K was finished I was nearly vibrating from all of the caffeine. I stopped at the health food store next to the restaurant to replace my Burt's Bees lip balm (Never leave home without it!), which was marked at $4.49, but I was only charged three dollars and change. Sweet! We went back to K's house, where i dropped my bag on the floor in the kitchen in front of the stove. It remained there until I left. We changed clothes and headed out. I thought we were just going for a walk around the neighborhood, so I stopped at a polish bakery and bought some kolackys. We wound up going to dinner in Chinatown and then to drinks afterward, and I lugged those cookies all over town. Whoops. Ah well, they were great for breakfast.
We met several of K's friends for dinner. It was M's birthday. There were eight of us, all women, at a big round table downstairs in this restaurant. It was the beginning of Chinese New Year, so the restaurant was crowded and the whole neighborhood was very lively. One of the girls tried to warm up our waiter by speaking to him in mandarin. It didn't work. We all laughed. We ate a ton, and passed around bottles of bubbly. I was semi-successful in using chopsticks for the first time. I have tried many times over the years, and always wind up asking for a fork. We had already been quite late for our reservation due to a comedy of errors that involved getting on four different trains to get there, so I was afraid to piss of the waiter and opted instead to feed myself messily and awkwardly in a large group of total strangers.
After dinner several of us went for drinks at an over-priced and under-staffed (or perhaps just poorly staffed) bar in Brooklyn. I had a Brooklyn Black Chocolate Stout. It was perfect.
After drinks we went back to K's, where I passed out promptly under a large pile of blankets on her air mattress, wearing two shirts, flannel jammy pants, socks, and a hat (her heat is not very reliable, nor are her landlords.) I slept like a baby.

The Starting Gun.

It went off at seven in the morning, at which point the dogs rolled over and looked at me like I was crazy (I was). I hit the snooze button (twice), then dragged my ass downstairs to make coffee. It was still dark outside, which I found highly upsetting. It was also raining steadily, which the boys found upsetting, because they had to go out in it in order to pee.
I went the lazy route and re-heated Friday's coffee in a pint glass in the micro-wave. I was too tired to care how awful it was. I tried to put my suitcase in the car surreptitiously, after feeding the dogs and putting a bit of half and half on their food to distract them. It didn't work. These are smart animals. First they thought "we" were going somewhere, and they got really happy. Then when they realized that only I was getting in the car, they got upset. I left as quickly as possible.
Despite the rain my drive to the airport was fairly easy. I got there and went to the economy parking lot, where I drove up and down every row in the "A" section before landing a spot at the very back.
As I was getting out of the car and retrieving my suitcase from the back seat, I was passed by a courtesy vehicle - I use that term loosely - which was completely devoid of passengers. I flailed my arm for a moment in hopes that it would stop. It didn't. There were no other people in the whole parking lot. I walked to the terminal in the rain, dragging my bags and my coat and cursing the courtesy vehicle, which I found parked on the near side of the lot, the driver smoking a cigarette and talking on the phone.
There was no line at check-in. I checked a bag ($15) because I was bringing two bottles of wine and a tube of toothpaste that was 4.19 ounces for K.
Security was fairly easy since I had left anything questionable (like potentially deadly shampoo and conditioner) in my checked bag. I was therefore quite surprised when I was pulled from line after walking, shoeless, through the metal detector.
"Is this your bag?" asked the young man behind the screening counter.
"Yes."
"Would you come over here with me?" He led me to one of those small cubicles where they open your bag behind a partition so small that everyone in line can see exactly what you've brought. I was more confused than worried, because, as I said, I had packed most of my stuff in my checked bag and had only cold medicine, kleenex, and reading material in my carry on. He rummaged around for a moment, then smiled sheepishly, flapped the bag shut, and handed it back to me.
"Have a good flight."
"Uh... thanks." I pulled my boots on (not to self: D0c Martens not the most convenient footwear for the airport), grabbed my bag, and sat down in the "now that you've been man-handled here's a chair where you can put your shoes on and try to regain your dignity" area. I peered curiously into my bag, wondering what might have given the man pause, and then discovered that I had grabbed my portable cd player out of the car in case of emergency (like a screaming child). The b.h. has the iP0d and I didn't want to be stranded without music. I'm sure that they don't usually find people flying with antique electronic devices, and it probably looked like a potential hazard.
The plane began boarding as soon as I had finished my bagel and cream cheese. I had chosen the window seat in the last row so that I would board quickly and be able to fall asleep without fear of drooling on a stranger. Unfortunately there was no window in the last row, so my claustrophobia was in full gear by the time we took off. Also, the flight was full and the guy next to me was pretty tall and angular, all elbows and knees reaching into my personal space. Luckily I had taken an antihistamine prior to boarding and promptly passed out, missing the pretzels and soda and waking up only when the turbulence started to get serious, which was a minute or two before touchdown.
My bag popped out at the claim area as soon as I got there, and I wove my way through various rip-off artists trying to get me a "flat fee" ride to Brooklyn (only $55!) to the cab stand.
Seventeen dollars (plus tip) and fifteen minutes later, I pulled up in front of the restaurant where K works.

Exhausted.

I'm back, mostly alive, no thanks to cigarettes($9.25 a pack in Manhattan!) or alcohol, or the insane voodoo woman who cursed K on the subway. Unfortunately I can't seem to get my camera to cooperate with the computer so I have yet to upload the pictures.
Basically I don't have it in me to tell the full story right now, but I had a great time and I can hardly wait to go back. Couldn't live there, though. Not at this point in my life.
I am glad to be home.

I had every intention of posting last night, but when I got home it was already one in the morning and I had to be back here at nine.
This is going to be a long day, stretching into a longer night of packing and house cleaning, and then I'm out, and probably not online for a few days.
Later, y'all.

I went to Shayne and Todd's for an Obama party. Ate a whole lot of Jenn's fabulous Cowboy Caviar, as well as some lovely roasted potatoes, cheese and crackers (don't know what kind of cheese, but it was hard and white and very tasty- kind of Manchego-ish), a salad, some kind of dessert cup pastry thingie with a custardy filling that Kellie made (I had about fifteen of them probably), and a Rogue Yellow Snow IPA. Very tasty. Somehow I still managed to drag myself downtown for the rock show.
Dr. Ass was not in attendance due to a potentially serious illness , which was a bit of a bummer, but the Dictatortots soldiered on, playing mostly the hits in an acoustic fashion. They did a new song called Three Word Band Name that was hilarious. I hope they post the lyrics on their website. Later when The Dumps took the stage, Andy said they'd like to thank Hope for a Golden Dictatortot for opening the show. This is a funny joke if you are an Athens local with some knowledge of the music scene, but if you aren't then you'd be asleep before I could explain it. I laughed out loud and nearly shot beer through my nose.
Hayride was in full force. Loud and fun and wanky when appropriate. They did some great covers, too. Wish I had the energy to go back and see them tonight with Jackpot City.
I stayed for a few Dumps songs, but I did have to be at work early this morning, so I didn't see the whole show. I did get to talk to several people I haven't seen in awhile (again), so that was fun.
Did I mention that I'm really excited about the new president?
I did smoke about two thousand cigarettes last night in an effort not to drink too much, so I woke up this morning wishing I were dead.
I went to work moaning and grumbling (and late), and when I got there Clay had an egg and cheese biscuit waiting for me. I could have kissed him. It was soaked - and I mean soaked through with grease, and I scarfed it down and felt instantly better.
The day was long and difficult. I lifted a lot of heavy crap. I talked to very few people. I rather enjoyed it. It was bloody cold, but I was layered, and I felt a real sense of accomplishment when it was over.
the wine tasting was rather a bust, because a bunch of people canceled (probably due to the cold), but the few people that did show up wound up being great. It was fun and somewhat informative. I got home earlyish and just got off the phone with the b.h. Just found out that some of our friends are pregnant (in the good way), which is exciting, and also found out the lineup for the next Woody Guthrie record (like the Billy Bragg and Wilco ones, but without Jeff Fucking Tw33dy, whom I have had enough of at this point). It's all very exciting.
I'm going to have to use up the rest of my energy to go wrestle with the dogs if I intend to get any sleep, so I guess I'd best be going.

Whew!

There's just something really comforting about having a President that is smarter than me. It's been a long time.
We watched the Inauguration at D & S's house, and then the guys piled into the van and headed out on tour. Today they'll drive ten hours and sleep at a hotel somewhere in Virginia, and tomorrow they'll drive several more hours and then play a show. I won't be seeing the b.h. again until Sunday night (Booooooo) in New York City (yaaaaaay).

Luckily I have lots to keep me busy. I am off today, so I will be attending a bash at Shayne and Todd's and then going to the 40 Watt for the Dictatortots, Hayride, and The Dumps. I have to work early tomorrow, then I'll come home and eat and walk the dogs and be off to a French Wine Seminar, which could only be better if I didn't have to drive myself there.

Thursday I'm off during the day, so I will likely try to get lunch with my friend MT, then I work Thursday night and Friday morning.

After that I'm off to New York. I seriously can't wait.

Customer of the Day #2381

At 4:50, a guy came in and asked Adam for Lagunitas Maximus. This is a fantastic beer, and normally we do carry it. We have many varieties of Lagunitas beers, and more IPAs than you can shake a stick at, but this guy was only interested in Maximus. So Adam apologizes to him and says,
"We do have it at the other store."
"I'm not goin' to the other store I live in Monroe!" the man snapped, at an unnecessary volume. I waited approximately ten seconds before shouting from the other side of the store:
"Ten minutes Adam!"
All of the employees laughed out loud. Apparently the man was calmer when he came up front to check out.

Just returned from a dinner party at the home of some friends. We never get to do that anymore, and I was glad for the opportunity. We had a few red wines, as well as a lovely German beer that Sam recommended (I can't remember the name at the moment, but I am sure to buy more so I'll report back). I can't say much about it except that it's nice to act like regular adults once in awhile. Eating at a proper table, without the company of a television but with the company of friends and friends of friends, is a luxury we don't often afford ourselves. If I were a resolution type of girl, I'd resolve to do this more often. Since I'm not, I'll just say I'm working on it.

I've just given the boys some Bully St1cks (G00gle it if you don't know) because more than anything I need a few minutes of quiet. Last night was awesome. So awesome, in fact, that I didn't even start home until 5am.
I worked my ass off for several hours. I had forgotten how much it hurts to open hundreds of beer cans, and wound up having to put electrical tape on my can-popping finger to reinforce my nail. The customers were mostly nice, except for the guy who was already pissing us off at 9:30 (the doors opened at nine). We was a big, goofy, red-necky guy in a button down shirt, camouflage pants, and checkered vans. Strange. Loud. We all tried nicely to get him to back off and slow down a bit. He was in our faces, as well as the faces of any and all customers who happened up to the bar when he was near (which was often, because he was a thirsty boy). I finally decided to cut him off because I didn't want him running all the other people off and sending them to the other bar. So when he came up and ordered, five shots of Jagerm3ister, I smiled sweetly and shook my head.

"What?"
"Nope. Can't do it. Sorry."
"You want one?"
"No."
"Okay, make it six then."
"Not gonna happen."
"Seven?"
I shook my head. He leaned forward and looked at me blearily, clearly unable to do the math.
"Why?"
"Look, you're putting me in a difficult position here. If I give you these shots, you're going to pound them all, pass out or get thrown out, and miss the show. And then you're going to be really pissed off."
"We got tickets to tomorrow night."
"Not gonna happen. Seriously."

I didn't see him for the rest of the night. I suspect he went over to the other bar and pissed them off and got thrown out. What a douche.
The show was glorious, the money was great, and I got to catch up with the Centro-matic guys later. I wonder how often we will see them once we move. Anyway, good times were had by all, I was far too chatty for my own good, and I wound up leaving the club at five am, having smoked far too many cigarettes and knowing full well that i would be paying for it the next day.

I still can't get warm, and since the b.h. is on the road tonight I don't suspect it will get any better. I stopped at the grocery store on the way home from work to get some firewood, but they were out. Which means I will have to leave early for other work in order to stop at other grocery store. Keep your fingers crossed for me, kids, because I really don't want to go traipsing around in the woods behind the house looking for wood when I get home at 4am.
In other news, South San Gabriel was amazing. Also, I got to talk to several people who I rarely get to see, so that was fun.
Crap. I guess I'd better go get ready for work.

"Feels Like 18"

That's what our local weather says on The W3ather Ch@nnel dot com. Fucking cold is what it is. Were it not for the musical stylings of South San Gabriel, I wouldn't even consider leaving the house.
Today was long and sucky. I knew it was going to be, so when i woke up this morning I stayed in bed for a long time thinking "but Mom, I don't wanna go to school today! to no avail. There was a huge delivery coming in first thing. More than two hundred cases of wine, and just two of us to deal with it. The first and largest delivery was already there when I arrived. I jumped right in and helped Lynn for several minutes before she was pulled away for something completely stupid that should not have come up today. I kept moving along, she returned, and we finished up that lot with little trouble. Next we had to move an entire display because it was crooked. We had to take all of the bottles off the top (at least a hundred, but probably more), pull apart the whole display, shuffle some of the boxes to one side a few inches, re-build the display, and then put the bottles back on top. All the while I was thinking that I must have made a serious error somewhere, but I couldn't put my finger on exactly where. I do have a degree and everything, so why all this heavy lifting? Oh yeah- useless degree. Right, then. I'll just keep doing what I'm told.
I convinced Lynn that we didn't need to actually move both of the remaining displays, but that we could manage by simply rearranging them. This kept me from having to move an additional hundred cases. Instead we moved maybe thirty. In the process of this move, a 1.5 litre bottle became dislodged from the display and fell directly onto my knee, striking whatever the knee equivalent of my funny bone is. That rendered me incapacitated for several minutes, so I hobbled back behind the cash register and put on an ice pack and rang people out while Lynn finished up. By the time the next delivery hit, we were well prepared and it went into the freshly moved display without any hassle. Once we finished that, we got to work on the regularly scheduled delivery, which we had almost finished when Lynn had to leave for a class. A bit later i decided that I was going to just move these three last boxes and then get on my way. The first of those three ended up crashing to the ground, spilling wine and broken glass everywhere. I cleaned that up, and as I pulled apart the dropped case I saw that I had only broken two bottles. A miracle. I then jammed a tiny shard of glass into my finger while picking up the unbroken bottles. Fabulous. So I stayed half an hour late for no reason except that I am sometimes clumsy and stupid and i don't know when to quit.
Now I'm home and trying to gear up to get out in this crap weather to go see a not at all crap show. Wish me luck.

Brrrr.

The weather has turned cold again, and now suddenly I've remembered that I need to order firewood. Every year it gets to this time and I fool myself that because it is sixty degrees on my birthday we are out of the woods - Spring is in the air and all that. Not so. Never the case. And now it's fucking cold, and I haven't put up the heavy curtains or put the plastic insulation on the windows. And now I have an hour to kill before work and I'm freezing.

Genius.

Oh holy crap this is brilliant. It came from this blog, which I found through Sullivan. I think I want one.

Loafing; Then Not.

Having a day off without some kind of plan is dangerous. I've been reading this 331/3 book about Murmur, which is great, but I'm afraid if I lie down to read I will fall asleep again.
The house is quite chilly.

Later: Okay, now I've cleaned the kitchen and the office, vacuumed, gone to the store for vacuum bags, done some laundry, and taken out two large bags of trash. i also donated two boxes of random shite to Goodw1ll. So I'm rewarding myself with a Terrapin Dos Cocoas. It's their new side project and I have yet to taste it. I'll be sure and tell you how it goes.

Which Circle Is This?

So I worked on the wine inventory for thirteen hours yesterday, which is why I didn't check in. The bad news is that we didn't finish it. The good news is that I was well fed. I picked up egg and cheese bagels from Dunk1n D0nuts on the way in, since the Bread Basket doesn't do Sunday breakfast. Sam bought us brunch from F1ve and T3n. I split a 5 and Tenedict and French toast with one of my co-workers. It was really good, and I had a difficult time getting back to the task at hand.
Day turned to night and punchy turned to stabby, and eventually I hit a wall and decided to go home. I missed a dinner party that the b.h. and I were going to attend. That sucked. Dinner was fried cheese sticks and beer. So inventory still isn't done and my cholesterol is probably through the roof. Great.
The rest is too boring to discuss, but suffice to say that as much as I might like some of my co-workers, being in close quarters with anyone (aside from the b.h.) for hours on end is not pleasant.
Whew.

Adventuring.

The dogs and I started out on our usual walk, up the driveway past the pond and to the left. But today, instead of doing a quick round in the grass and then heading back to the right and up the street, the boys decided to keep going leftward and I decided to let them. We ended up going round the corner and then left into the woods back of the house. Kilgore marched boldly on, while Wyatt lagged. This meant both of them at the full length of their retractable leashes and me stretched between, urging Wyatt to hurry and politely asking KG to slow up, and often backtracking to untangle one of them when they'd gone the wrong way around a tree or through some brambles.
The result was that we went a very short distance and had quite an adventure. There were some small and very deep holes in the ground that I wondered about from a distance. They were maybe ten inches in diameter, and from a few feet away I couldn't see the bottom. After wondering briefly what might have made them, I realized that this was perhaps not a question I wanted answered and moved on quickly.
There was a lot of random crap abandoned out there, too. Hot water heaters (multiple, which is bizarre), oil drums, and a huge pile of beer bottles and cans... it's pretty fucked up out there, really. In any case, the boys had a good time and I didn't have to walk all that far.
After our walk I went off to work, which seemed longer than it should have, and now I'm home and tired and I have to be up early to do inventory tomorrow. Pleh.

Free Time. Huh. Who knew?

I worked a regular nine to five today, then picked up the b.h., came home to let dogs out, went to dinner with the b.h. Randomly ran into friends at the restaurant who happened to be sitting next to the only two open seats at the bar. I wasn't even surprised, really, because that's just how Athens is. We hadn't seen them in ages and there was a lot of talk about trying to get together, and plans never made, and then suddenly there we all were. I don't even remember the name of it, but we ate at the new Mexican place across from The Gr1t. I loved their salsas, and the lemon cream sauce on my enchilada was fantastic. I also really dug the jalapeno coleslaw. Consequently, I ate far too much. As we walked the block or so back to the car, i wondered how on earth I was going to drink beer with Shayne, which was my plan for the evening. But by the time I dropped b.h. off at practice and got over to Littl3 K1ngs, I felt just fine.
Her other friend was just leaving, so while they said their good-byes I ordered up and Oaked Arrogant Bastard. It was just dandy. Not terribly different from the regular bastard, but enough to make it interesting. Shayne was hilarious, as usual. Just what the doctor ordered. A couple beers, a lot of shit talk, catching up on the usual b.s. Possibly going to a yard sale in the morning, if I can handle staying awake after dropping the b.h. off at work. I kind of doubt it. I do have to be up early, so I am signing off, but not without my Quote for the Day, courtesy of the b.h.:

"She's not like a hot lesbian. She's more like the lesbian equivalent of a bear."

Awesome.

Looking Forward, But Still Enjoying the Present.

I ran an errand to help out a friend of mine today. For this I was paid one hundred and fifty dollars, which is most of the cost of the plane ticket I will be buying for New York. I am finally going to visit K. Two weeks from tomorrow, in fact, and I am pretty blasted excited about it. I can't stay long, and I haven't even begun to think of what I might like to do- aside form the obvious eating like a pig and drinking some good beer, that is. I've been to Central Park and the Empire State Building, but never to the Statue of Liberty. I'm not above touristy stuff, but I can't imagine standing in line at the statue in January being a pleasant experience, so maybe I'll try to knock a museum off the list instead. I saw something in a book today about a Museum of Moving Pictures in Brooklyn, so that's convenient. I will certainly be visiting the Brooklyn Brewery. That alone may cause my baggage to double on the way home.
Mostly I just can't wait to see K again and talk shit and drink and smoke too much. I'll have to remember to get the name of Shayne's favorite shitty dive bar, and I'm hoping to hook up with an old friend who I haven't seen in at least fifteen years. It's all very exciting. The b.h. will be on tour, so although I will be seeing him on this trip (at both The Mercury Lounge and whatever place they're playing in Brooklyn), I am actually going to be flying solo. Should be interesting. I haven't done it in seven years.
Work was pretty hilarious tonight. We were all pretty busy with pre-inventory nonsense and feeling a bit punchy. At one point a guy I know came in and I was helping him pick out a beer. I asked if he had tried Arrogant Bastard. He had. Double Bastard? No. Me neither. We settled on a Lagunitas Hop Stoopid, because he is as big a hops fan as I am. I walked with him up to the counter and we chatted while Allen rang him out.
"Did you say you've had the Double Bastard?" Alan asked me.
"No, have you?"
"Yeah. Wow."
"Is it good?"
"It needs like another year in the bottle."
"What do you mean? What does it taste like?"
"Like a pissed off panther in your mouth."
"Well, not having blown any angry panthers, I'm not sure what you mean, but I'll take it under advisement."
"Not any angry ones, but the nice ones..." Reed chimed in.
"Yeah, the nice ones I blow all the time."
We all laughed. Reed said goodbye and I turned around to walk back into the wine section. That's when I realized there were other customers in line.

After we closed, the guys broke out a couple bottles of new beer for all of us to taste. The first was a blonde ale, which I immediately thought smelled of lemons. It tasted worse than it smelled. I gave my glass right over to the Hobbit (this is my name for our manager who is small and fuzzy and drunk - not drunk at work, mind you, but he likes his beer). The boys continued to taste, adding descriptors like Lemon Pledge, Pine Sol, bananas, and cat piss.
"Okay, really, we need to figure out how to describe this to people so they'll actually want to buy it. Say something positive."
This was Allen, ever the optimist.
"It doesn't taste like slavery," said Stan.
We all busted up. This went on for several minutes, with none of us able to say anything good that actually meant anything. In the end I decided to take my leave. They cracked open an Amber before walking me out to my car. I wouldn't be surprised if they were still there.
Sometimes I really enjoy my job.

Another terribly Exciting Day.

Today I got a birthday cake from a friend. It was devil's food, three layers, with Kahlua frosting and chocolate chips. Fucking fantastic. So that was breakfast. I was smart enough to pass it around or I would surely have eaten the whole thing by lunch.
It was a long and boring day. I don't even have a good idiot story. It was windy as fuck, and a bunch of empty boxes blew all over the parking lot and I had to chase them down, but that was seriously as exciting as it got. Now I'm at home on the couch trying to decide which beer I'll have. I really want a Bell's, but it's not cold yet. Hmmmm...
The b.h. was kind enough to leave a loaf of bread on top of the fridge last night, so our resident rodent didn't have to wake us in order to get a meal. I'll try to remember to post a picture of the bread tunnel at some point. It's comforting, at least, in it's smallness.
Oh, now I hear geese. Between them and the daffodils that are sprouting up in front of the house, I can't figure out how it is possibly January right now.

Ahhhh.

I slept way in today. The b.h. brought me coffee, juice, and homemade strawberry scones in bed, along with a copy of Tropic Thunder (which only reaffirmed my love for Robert Downey, Jr. and which I will likely watch as soon as I am finished with this post), and the new book The Clash, which is hot pink and coffee table sized. It was put together by the surviving members of the band, so there are all sorts of neat pictures and copies of old show fliers and the like. I love it. Now, if only somebody *cough* could keep the blasted coffee table cleared off, maybe it would have a place...
So needless to say I stayed in bed forever, and then when I got up I puttered around a bit and then went out for coffee with Jamie, who I haven't seen in what seems like forever. She gave me a really beautiful, soft, knitted (by her) washcloth and some hand made soap. We sat around and caught up and petted her dog Silver, and while she was inside getting her coffee I was treated to what I believe was an attempted conversion by an obviously misguided Christian man, who was speaking to what I gather from the conversation to be a gay man who wants to be "reformed." The whole thing was quite odd, the conversation quite frank and very audible, even from across the patio at the coffee shop, and I kept looking around for the hidden camera that never appeared.
It was about 62 degrees outside today, and it was all I could do not to call up a bunch of people and go get a drink somewhere and sit outside. Since I do have to be up in the morning I thought the better of it and instead came home. I'm still firmly planted on the couch, contemplating a round of Playing Gods, which is my favorite new board game. Anyway, many thanks for the birthday wishes, everybody. XO.

Older, yes. Wiser? Jury's Still Out.

I was supposed to go to work at noon today, but I got a panicked call at ten thirty from my co-worker Lynn, who had just gotten a panicked call from our sales rep saying that the 225 cases of wine that were supposed to come on Thursday were actually arriving today at eleven. I gulped down the rest of my coffee and hurried off, arriving just after Lynn and obviously some time after the delivery driver, who was already stacking wine everywhere and every which way. The thing is, given enough lead time we usually tear down an old display, draw up a plan for the setup of the new one, and are usually able to just pop everything into place as it arrives. It is a lot of lifting and hard work, but pretty much par for the course and no big deal. Not so today. Lynn had the day off and was at home, sick in bed, when she got the call. Lucky for me all I had done was forgotten to put on deodorant. (More lucky was the fact that I had it in my car).
Anyway, after a tow and a half hour clusterfuck, we managed to get everything in place. Our boss made a phone call to the sales rep, who also happens to be a friend of the L.L.S. family, and gave him some shit, after which the slaes rep brought us a pizza from DePalm@s. White sauce, broccoli, spinach, and red onions. Fucking fantastic.
Tonight there was a cask of Highland Black M0cha Stout at Aroma's, which I managed to talk the b.h. into attending despite the fact that he doesn't drink. We had a cheese plate and I had a couple beers (I skipped the cask beer after tasting it out of somebody else's glass- good enough, but not exactly my cup of tea). It was actually very low-key and pleasant. We came home early and played a game of Playing Gids, a new board game that my sister and her husband bought me for my birthday. We're still learning, but it is a lot of fun and a great way to mark the passing of another year. Now I'm exhausted and really happy that I don't have to work tomorrow. Yay loafing! Happy Birthday to me.

Long Weekend.

I had every intention of going to the Beef Silence show last night at the Caledonia. Not that I have any idea what Beef Silence sounds like, but anything Nick Bielli is involved in is generally entertaining, so I was all about it. Even the b.h. seemed inclined to socialize. Things were looking up as we drove home from work. I was famished when I got home, so I re-heated a bowl of veggie chili, poured on a generous helping of this sour cream jalapeno sauce that the b.h. had made for our dinner the previous night, and shoveled it all into my gullet as quickly as possible. After the initial stabbiness had subsided, I was sitting on the couch reading when the b.h. asked me if I wanted a black-eyed pea cake. That was what he had made the night before, along with the aforementioned cream sauce, caramelized onions, corn bread, green beans with orange rind and candies pecans, and greens with kalamata olives and garlic. I said yes to all of the above, and was soon finished with dinner, part two. At that point I decided to go upstairs and lie down a bit, and at that point, my night was pretty well over.
I napped for two hours, and when came downstairs again I crawled onto the couch under a blanket. Still convinced that I would make it to the rock show, I turned on the coffee maker to re-heat the morning's leftovers. After I drank it, I opened the front door and realized that the fog was so thick i could barely make out the car in the driveway. Oh well, so much for that. I had a few minutes hemming and hawing after, but it was only halfhearted. We watched an episode of Torchwood (thanks for that recommendation, Jamie, I believe I'm hooked) and went to bed. I of course couldn't sleep due to the nap and coffee, but I did have a Josephine Tey book to keep me distracted. When I was finally drifting off, I heard a crash downstairs. Fucking rodents again. Dammit.
Today I finished reading Julie and Julia, about which I am still unsure how I feel. But at least it's not lying on the coffee table anymore, half finished, staring me in the face and quietly mocking me.
Now I'm on to The Cheese Lover's Companion(because why not really?), and I will likely crack open my new copy of Redemption Song: The Ballad of Joe Strummer very soon.
My work schedule is going to be a bit different this week, so I'm hoping to utilize my new found free time reading and writing. No New Year's Resolution or anything, just a vague hope that I will get back to some sense of normalcy. We'll see how that goes. My life has a tendency to throw curves, and I have a tendency to swing wildly at them.
I just finished some wheat pasta with sundried tomato, bread crumbs, and green olives. I am waiting patiently for five o'clock so I can break out a beer. Or a glass of wine. Not much longer now, so I'd best go decide.

Customer of the Day #4367.

The day started out innocently enough. I got up and left the house before I was truly awake, dropped the b.h. at work and proceeded to work myself. I finished my coffee just before I arrived and had my breakfast (yogurt and granola) when I got there. I still wasn't awake. By eleven o'clock we had only had about five or six customers. It was probably sixty degrees outside, but inside the store couldn't have been over fifty. I could not get warm. I paced around and looked for things to do. I skipped through radio stations on the Sirius XM thingie, trying to find something upbeat and not Billy Joel. There was a lot of Billy Joel. My co-worker Clay was enjoying it. He is not shy about singing out loud, which I find unusual for a country boy his age, but it is still new enough that I find it amusing. I put up some wine. I rearranged some stuff on shelves. I went next door for coffee. It warmed me up a little. Still the day dragged on relentlessly.
Natasha arrived at around twelve. I had been there for almost three hours, but it seemed like forever. She went to get lunch, which she was nice enough to split with me. Grilled fresh mozzarella and tomato with basil and pesto on pannini. Clay went to the hardware store, and when he came back he started replacing rood shingles. The smell of tar permeated the store. The few customers we had all remarked on it.
"It smells like gas," said one woman.
"Yes, he is tarring roof," said Natasha, in her heavily accented English.
"It smells like gas."
Natasha looked at me and rolled her eyes.
Later, we were outside. Natasha smoked while I stood and watched, trying to clear my head for a few minutes with fresh air. A man in a truck pulled up. He got out and went into the store, so I followed.
"Sorry about that smell," I said. "We're repairing the roof. The smell of the tar is killing me. I guess we should leave that door open."
"You're probably smelling gas. I have it all over me."
It did not occur to me to ask why he was covered in gas.
"Actually, now that you mention it, I do smell gas. It's a step up form the tar, though, so it isn't bothering me."
Later Clay came back in, his hands thick with mucky black tar. He was carrying an empty half pint bottle. Everclear.
"Is that your shift drink?" asked Natasha.
"Naw, man, I had to use it to get the rest of the tar off. Shit, I don't need a drink. I'm higher than a kite."
She looked at him quizzically for a moment, and then smirked and nodded in understanding. "If the boss come back, he's goeen to lock himself in back there."

A short while later, an older woman in large puffy white gym shoes came in. She poked her head around the corner, smiled briefly at us, and then turned her back and went toward the wine section. She was rummaging around in Rieslings before Natasha could get around the counter to help her. In fact, by the time Natasha had got to her, she had already pulled a very pricey bottle from an upper shelf (the shelf right above the sign that reads "Please ask for assistance with wines on upper shelves").
"Do you have another one like this?"
Natasha had taken the bottle from her and was inspecting the label when two more bottles came crashing down - on her head. I heard the crash, and before I could register what had even happened I saw Natasha, bent at the waist with both hands on her head, stumbling around. Clay got there first.
"It wasn't me! I didn't do it!" shouted the woman, in the manner of one who it had been and who had, in fact, done it.
I ignored her and instructed Clay to clean up the glass. Other customers had arrived, and while I was ringing them out I was ordering Natasha to sit down and Clay to get her some ice. While I was ringing up the last waiting customer, the woman who caused the whole thing poked her head around the corner again.
"I wasn't going to buy anything today anyway. I'll just come back."
I glared at her and didn't respond. She practically ran out. Stupid cow. Once I had finished with the other customers, I went over to inspect Natasha's foot, which had been hit just after her head. It probably kept the second bottle from breaking. It was swollen. So was her head.
The last hour was spent arguing with Natasha about whether or not she should drive (obviously not), whether she would go to the ER (not a chance), and what might happen if you drink alcohol with a concussion. In the end her stubbornness won out, and now all I can do is call her every once in awhile to make sure she isn't passed out. So far so good. Man, I'm glad this day is almost over.

Happy New Year, Indeed.

I worked a full and insanely busy day at the Local Liquor Store, picked up the b.h., brought him home, and rested for about an hour and a half before heading out to bartend. The night was fairly easy, the music more fun and much more tolerable than I expected (sometimes cover songs are truly a blessing), and overall I had a good time. At the end of the night, I waited on my second favorite local bass player. He was wearing a spectacularly gaudy jean jacket, adorned on the back with two skulls in American Indian headdresses. They had rhinestones for eyes. The feathers were individually embroidered. It was fantastic. I was jealous. And of course, without a camera for the first time in almost forever.
Anyway, he and his lady friend were very nice and chatted with the other bartender and me, and we all drank a howdy to ought nine and our incoming President. Though I missed the b.h. and my boys, I cannot remember feeling better for the start of a new year in a very long time.
Today's Customer Of The Day was an old lady who sat in her car in the parking lot and layed on the horn for a full minute until my co-worker Rob finally noticed. He looked out the window, rolled his eyes and sighed, and asked me to please go take the woman's order.

"I'm sorry- WHAT?"
"I know, I know - Just go out and see what she wants."

I did. She opened her door just enough to let the words escape.
"I want five little bottles of vodka."
"What kind of Vodka?"
"Boston?"

I went back in. I got a half pint and an airplane bottle of Mr. B0ston vodka and went back out to the car. Just to be clear, this woman had no handicapped sticker, was in no visible way impaired, and was smoking a fucking cigarette while she waited for me to bring her fucking liquor to her. She was, in short, not that old. Were she elderly, or handicapped, or even - gods forbid - polite, I would not have been so put out.

She pointed at the smaller bottle and handed me twenty dollars. I went back in, Rob rang it up, and I returned to the parking lot and handed her the bag. She took it without looking at me, peered into the bag, and muttered a thanks before closing the car door- again, without looking at me. (Is this a Baptist thing? Anyone?)

When i went back inside, I asked Rob how the fuck all that had started.

"I don't know. Sam set a precedent."

Sam is the owner, so it's not like I'm going to argue. But really.