A Change in Plans

Okay, I didn't catch up on my blogging while I was off. But we did see the new H@rry P0tter flick. It was great- big, dark, and way cooler than it was in my head.
We're postponing the California trip. Too much on our plates at the moment. Instead we're going to hit the mountains in North Carolina for a dog friendly vacation. The campground has air-conditioned cabins. I know that sounds ridiculous, but it is too bloody hot (and I am a delicate flower) this time of year to sleep outside. So get this- the place is totally equipped for dogs - fenced in off leash areas, an agility course, a pond for swimming - and on their website, they discourage children. In a friendly way, of course, but they do. Very cool. Those of us who have dogs instead of kids need a place to go, too, and now we have one.
I also got a new job. Or rather, a second job. Bartending, but somewhere else. Looking forward to it.
That's all for now. Watching season two of Extras on DVD, and it has to go back tonight.
TTFN.

I wear a seven, and you're out of order...

'Cause I can tell from here you're a seven and a quarter.*

Yep, it's time to break out the tinfoil hats,** folks. I just finished watching B0bby, the movie about the other people in the Ambassador Hotel who were shot when Robert Kennedy was. I probably should have Netflixed it, because I wasn't really ready for it, but it had to go back tonight so we did anyway. It was fantastic. And despite knowing exactly how it was going to end, I still found myself completely devastated by the ending. It was gut wrenching. I can't help but wonder what the world might be like right now if that had never happened. The state of things at the moment is weighing heavily on me, and the weight was compounded by a bout of insomnia (slept too late yesterday) during which I read way too much news and political nonsense. Sigh. Where are we going?
On a lighter note, I discovered a new blog that I found highly amusing. It's called Clublife, and the link is over there on your left. I have also been catching up on A Free Man In Preston (also see left), whose posts about his trip to Northern California are very entertaining (such a brilliant photographer!) and may prove highly useful if the b.h. and I manage to get our shit together enough to take a trip out there at the end of the month.
Ooh, and I discovered yet another British show to love. I know this will come as a complete shock to some of you, but until two days ago, I had never seen an episode of Doctor Who. I have been aware of its existence for ages, but have somehow never gotten around to it. And now, lo and behold, Christopher Eccleston as the good Doctor. Neat. And an actress that looks like she actually consumes food as his co-star. Wow.
In the books department, I have been tearing up a bunch of Roald Dahl, thanks to both a gift(back on my birthday-or was it Christmas?) and a recent loan from my good friend K, who reads at least twice as much as I do. I also started Harry Crews' The mulching of America, but as it is less than uplifting, my progress is slow.
Saw Black Snake Moan on video last week. Fucking fantastic. And it was even written and directed by the same guy! That is almost always a sure sign of indie movie disaster for me. Christina Ricci is way more talented than I ever realized, and it was beautifully shot and did not go where I automatically thought it was going to go, which was a very special treat. See this movie. All four of you.
Got to see a preview of the new Transf0rmers movie as well. It was incredibly well done as far as the whole car-to-robot transformation. There was the expected amount of cheese, and some nearly hilarious, Top Gun-esque moments of sheer military recruitment obviousness, as well as seeming at times to be a very expensive car commercial (Hey Ch3vy, why not just build a C@maro that runs well? Ever thought of that?), but overall it was very entertaining. And that Shia Leb0uf dude is really fucking good, even if his co-star was the oldest looking high-schooler since Beverly Hills 90210. So see that one, too. And see it on the big screen, because g0d damn, there are big ass robots and car chases and stuff.
Maybe next week we'll get to see H@rry P0tter.
Other than that, I have mostly been working and attempting to weed the garden. Have almost completely given up on watering the flowers because we are now in a LEVEL THREE DROUGHT, but the tomatoes, peppers, and cucumbers are really booming. I gave several plants away to my friends K and B today, because I actually managed to grow way more from seed than I had room to plant. We are off for the next couple of days, so hopefully I'll get the yard back in order and oh, I don't know... vaccuum? It looks like a bomb went off in here. A dog hair bomb. I also intend to finish the St. Louis story. I have more photos and some hilarious moments to share. At this point, however, I am off to get another beer and turn off my brain.



*Anybody who can tell me where that quote came from will get the remnants of a six pack of extremely cheap powdered mini-donuts, absolutely free, by mail.
**That's a clue

Not Exactly A Mensa Convention.

It's been a long weekend. Hell, it's been a long six weeks. Friday night we had a band that thinks they're more important than they are. They have played before and bitched about money after not bringing almost anyone to the show (can you say "pro-duc-tion", you dipshit?). Fortunately, I think this weekend was probably the nail in their coffin. They brought their own "security." The genius in question stopped us on our way into work by standing in front of the door and giving us an expectant "How you doin' tonight?" When one of our co-workers leaned over and said "They work here" as I walked past him, he said "Are they working tonight?" He was quickly set straight on the policy of not charging employees to get in, and then an hour later he told one of our door guys
"Man, I'm antsy as hell! I just wanna kick somebody's ass!"
Ugh. This is why we hire Door Guys and not Bouncers. Sure, you should be able to handle yourself if somebody takes a swing at you. But that's a lot less likely to happen if you aren't a meathead douchebag with something to prove. The best part? After he stood there for an hour and a half and nobody showed up, he bailed and our guys had to do his job. Idiot.

St. Louis, Part Four.

We slept in on Thursday, and then decided to visit the Arch. As a claustrophobe, I have mixed feelings about the Arch, but it seemed like something we had to do. Neither the b.h. nor K had been before, and besides, I kind of enjoy controlled fear every now and then. So we went.
The elevator is tiny. When you get in (with four other people), you have to sit down and kind of lean forward. This photo doesn't really say much, but that doorway is less than five feet high, I think.



Coincidentally, they put us in a pod (that's what it felt like) with two other guys who were from Georgia. While we waited for the elevator, one of them was expressing some doubts about the size of the pod.
"It's not that bad," I reassured him. I'm claustrophobic and I've been here before."
He seemed reassured, until the door opened and we all squeezed in. Actually, it was the closing of the pod that caused him some alarm.
"Not that bad?!" he said. ("My ass!!" was implied in his tone, but remained unspoken out of either Southern Gentility or fear of looking wimpy.) It took a few minutes to get to the top. It was a beautiful and sunny day, so I got lots of cool pictures.
Here's a shot of East St. Louis, on the Illinois side of the river. Some of you may remember it from the movie National Lampoon's Vacation starring Chevy Chase. My understanding is that it is just as charming today, which is why this is as close as we got.



By the way, Wilco fans, that boat is the Casino Queen made famous by the song of the same name on the album A.M..

This is the view straight down. I had to kind of crawl up into the window to get it. Those specks are people.





We were starving when we left the Arch, so we headed to the club for lunch. K was enamored of our waiter, while I was busy raving about the root beer. It was a local brew, and the club was across the street from the company, so it was fresh and fabulous. Best of all, it was made with sugar instead of corn syrup (which I have only recently discovered is in fact, evil). I got a veggie burger and fries, and we ordered onion rings and fried cheese balls for an appetizer. I don't normally eat like that, but hey- we were on vacation. Everything was unbelievably good. We vowed to have another meal there.
When we finished eating, we headed to a record store across town to see Blue Mountain, who had not played a show in six years.

Suddenly Feeling A Little More Patriotic...

Thanks to Keith Olbermann.

I am thankful to live in a place where you can still publicly say things like this. Not that the President is listening or anything.

Anyway, sorry for getting all political on you. Happy 4th, y'all.

Wild wildlife.

Courtesy of Andrew Sullivan:

How Italian police discovered a secret mountain-top marijuana plantation:

Locals in Trento began telling tales of the abnormally high-spirited animals, while forest rangers began to wonder why the normally shy and straight-laced cervine population was letting it all hang out by day and "making great leaps on the mountainside"...

Despite the seemingly damning nature of the prosecution's case, defence lawyers say the charges may yet be dropped since the deer had eaten most of the evidence.

And several hundred packets of Snackwells.

St. Louis, Part Three (We Finally Reach St. Louis)

So after two hours of thrift shopping, we headed back to the interstate and on to the city. Our hotel was next to the airport, and even though it was what should have been rush hour, we had a smooth ride all the way. The directions, via Mapquest, required something like six right turns at the end. We called ahead to the hotel to confirm the directions and got a non-native English speaker on the already spotty cell phone.
"It's a left at Linder," the b.h. said, hanging up.
Several exits passed.
"You mean "Lindbergh?"
"Maybe."
We all laugh.
We exit at Lindbergh, get completely turned around IN the airport in a matter of seconds. We're all punchy and a little tired. From the Park and Ride lot, we see the highway. On the highway there is a sign:
"Linder Street, 2 miles"
We laugh more. Though we are within spitting distance, we crawl through several lights before finding the entrance ramp. We exit at Linder and turn right.
"Now you're going to make a right on Peeley."
"Do you think it might be Seeley?"
"Maybe."

When we finally reached the hotel, we were all famished and wanted to eat right away. One of the reasons I was sold on this particular hotel was the Indian restaurant ("Voted the Best in ST. Louis!") on the eleventh floor. We ordered like it was our last meal. Everything was fantastic. Since the b.h. likes to cook and is very good at it, I often find myself disappointed at restaurants. Not this one. We ate a LOT of food. They served a fantastic spiced tea (chai-like, I suppose, but not exactly chai) that was really amazing. Just when I thought I couldn't eat more, they brought us complimentary Mango Pudding. It was awesome- not too sweet and just a taste. I thought I might die.
After we ate, we waddled back to our room for a nap.
Now with two beds,the sleeping was even better. We got ready about an hour later, and got on the internet to get directions to the club.
The highway was dark and under construction, so the ride was a little hairy. We had to stop and get cash and batteries for the camera, and ended up in a scene straight out of Larry David at the grocery store: thirty people in line, two checkers, and one poor old guy who just wanted some chocolate milk. Of course, there wasn't a price on the chocolate milk, so while we were all waiting (mostly) patiently for the woman with the bad perm and the fake nails to ring us up in express, we were treated to a verbal lobby between the stock guy and the other cashier over the loudspeaker about where the chocolate milk was and whether or not it was in fact still on sale. Fascinating stuff.
When we finally got out of there, we raced over to the Schlafly Brewery, only to find that the show that evening was at the Schlafly Tap Room. And the guy behind the counter at the Brewery didn't know what Twangf3st was and couldn't tell us how to get to the Brewery. When he finally found somebody who knew, they gave us the wrong name of the exit. The good news is that ST. Louis, like so many Midwestern cities, is built on a grid and is easily navigated by simple logic (unlike say, Atlanta, which was obviously designed with the help of hallucinogens).
We got there during the first band, whose name I do not remember, since I only saw a couple of songs. I of course needed a beer immediately, because no matter how zen I try to be, getting lost in a strange city and driving around fearing that you are missing a band you drove nine hours to see is a bit stressful. I turned to the bar, which was about eight feet long and manned by two guys. There were twelve thousand people waiting for beer.
The beer was excellent. Centro-matic was present. We said hello and chatted with them a bit. I ran into a couple from Rotterdam, whom I have now met three separate times in three different cities (in three different rock clubs) over the past five years. C and C are obviously as insane about music and the b.h. and me. The show was transcendent.

St. Louis, Part Two. (We're still not in St. Louis)

Okay, so we get up on wednesday morning in Paducah, and we proceed northward. We have eight hours before there are any TwangFest events, so K and I decide to stop along the way and go junking. About an hour into the drive, K realizes that she has left her pillow at the M0tel 6, which wouldn't be a big deal were it not for the brand new pillowcase which her friend had embroidered for her (including her intital and crossed pink six shooters-it's really remarkably cool), in which said pillow was encased. She called the Motel, they agreed to hold it until Friday so we could pick it up on our way home, and we kept going.
In Carbondale, Illinois, we found a Goodwill and a thrift shop run by the local radio station right across the street from each other. I scored a really cool yellow leather belt with a buckle that has a red and yellow image of Twiggy(?) on it. I think it's her, anyway. It looks very Warhol. In any case, it was a dollar and it actually FITS ME. This never happens. At the store across the street, K got a really cool 50's bathing suit for fifty cents, and I found the motherload of vintage dishes. The b.h. had about had it with our shopping frenzy at this point, but we had met the proprieter of said thrift shop and he urged us to visit his other shop down the street. And he had been so nice, and had given us such good deals... so we went. And the other place was even better. I wish I could remember the name of it so I could post it here, but no such luck. If you're ever in carbondale, though. The shop next to the vegetarian restaurant. Ask for Tom.
Ugh. It's like five in the morning. I gotta crash. More later.

Athfest.

Wow. I am so tired I can barely type. This was a long and trying weekend, as well as an incredibly rocking one. While I was not able to navigate the schedule as freely as I did last year, I was still able to see a lot of excellent rock and roll. First, my customer of the weeken d story:
Friday night, 1:50 am (ten minutes before close, for those of you unfamiliar with the college town rigamarole).
Creepy dude: Can I get a Red Stripe?
Me: Of course.
CD: Are there other places that are open later here?
ME: Nope. College town, man. Everything pretty much shuts down at two.
CD: That's how it is in my town, too.

Silence as I wipe down coolers and collect fruit trays.

CD: So when are you and I going to Amsterdam?
ME: Probably never, since my husband generally frowns upon me going to foreign countries with strange men.
CD: Oh, that's not what I meant. We're just friends.
ME: Really?
I walk off and start re-stcoking beer coolers. Five minutes later, I walk by him with a couple cases of beer.
CD: The Grill is open.
ME: That's true. And they have food. So there you go.
I walk off and hide. He leaves.

Saturday Night.
The B.H. sees Creepy Dude enter bar, makes his way quickly over to him.
B.H.: Can I help you?
CD: (Points at me.)
B.H.: What do you need?
CD: (Points at me again).
B.H.: What do you need?
CD: It just feels better when it comes from her.
B.H.: I don't know what that's supposed to mean, but that's my wife.
CD: I'll have a Red Stripe.

Drama.

So now my mostly anonymous, just for fun and writing practice Pretentious Internet Journal is becoming a forum for something else. Who knew that a post I made almost a month ago was going to cause a stir? Not me. And the funny thing is, the people I know who read this blog (all four of them) had no idea about whom I was speaking. There are so many burners. And now somebody I didn't even know was a reader of the blog (shout out, yo) is complaining about a post I made. See, the whole point of this thing was just to write and express myself- good times and bad and whatnot. And now it seems that I have caused quite a stir. Sorry, dude.

The City of Big Arches.

So our trip to ST. Louis was fantastic. We left on Tuesday at around 7pm, caught almost no traffic lights on 316 to Atlanta (you can't appreciate the miracle if you haven't driven that road), and no traffic in Atlanta. Stopped in Chatanooga (I know I've likely misspelled that, but am simply too lazy at present to care) for pizza and the best cup of coffee from here to Chicago (possibly further, but I haven't checked) at a shop called Greyfriar, and drove all the way to Paducah before stopping at a M0tel Six for the night. The drive was beautiful and fun, and having our friend K in the car made it a little more interesting. We only went to the M6 because it was cheap and we really just wanted a shower and a bed. Little did we know that we would be sleeping in the only available room in the apparently booming metroplis of Paducah, and that said room would only have one bed.
"Do you want smoking or non?" asked the young girl with the fake nails and the round face behind the bullet-proof glass in the lobby.
"Doesn't matter," I replied.
She punched keys on her computer.
"We have one room left. It's a king non-smoking."
"Let me check on that. I'll be right back." I ran to the car, explaining the situation to my traveling companions. We were all tired, we are all fairly small, and we mostly don't care much about stuff like, oh, sleeping three to a bed. It was the cheapest hotel at the exit, and we would have to check out in eight hours. But I had to ask.
"That'll be fine," I told the girl.
"How many adults?" she asked, as she punched still more keys on her keyboard.
"Three."
She cocked her head sideways and raised an eyebrow. She had surely heard of such things before, what with Kentucky being wired for cable for at least a couple years now.
"We really don't care," I said weakly. "One of us can sleep on the floor. We've been driving all day."
She didn't seem convinced, but she gave us the two person rate anyway (a three dollar savings, thank you very much).
More Later...

Please be patient.

Our phone line got ripped out (for a second time) by the construction (c*cksuckers), so I have been unable to post. I find it very difficult to write downtown, which is where I have to go now to get a connection. I'll be back ASAP. In the meantime, I am managing to keep up with some of you (because I don't have a problem reading downtown.)
*sigh*

Weird Vibe.

The first thing I had to "deal with" this evening was a young lady who tried to put a drink on a tab that did not exist. When my coworker (a guy) asked her to clarify, she started smiling coyly at him, telling him he was "hot" and generally making a total dipshit of herself. She had of course already consumed the drink in question. I pressed her for her ID, she claimed it was outside, and then tried making for the door so she could "go get it." Long story short, I followed her out, called her out on the sidewalk as a thief (in front of a whole bunch of people), took money from her friend for the drink, and told her that I could have her arrested, and that I never wanted to see her again. I hate that shit, and I feel weird when put in that position, but am glad that I actually called her out instead of shaking my head in disgust and letting it go, as I have done in the past.
A bit later, I walked outside to find a loud verbal exchange between a different co-worker (who was not working) and a customer. I stepped in and sent everybody away, blah blah blah. More B.S. I can't wait for vacation.

Quandary.

So I have this friend. This friend is always asking me to borrow CDs in order to burn them. The friend is admittedly not well off, but always seems to have enough money to buy a cd from f*@!ing Be@st Buy- the latest by Amy Win3house or some other artist that doesn't need this friend's money. But the friend never, EVER buys CDs from local bands, or from touring bands that need to buy gas. And this friend never pays to get into shows, either.
So what do I say? Mostly because I am a big fat wuss and I don't enjoy confrontation, I have passed on some of my favorite CDs to this person, and this person has burned them, and then they proceed to tell the band how great they are, and what a big fan the person is, the next time they play in town. It makes me a little mad. It makes me a lot mad, actually, but I don't quite know how to say no. It would be different if the person had never heard the band, and I was trying to convince them to listen. Then no problem. I have had this experience several times, and when I like the band (as in the case of the ever fabulous Okkervil River) I usually end up giving them a lot of money. In fact, with Okkervil, I (we, actually, since the b.h. is a huge fan as well)have purchased two shirts, all of their CDs, and a couple of their records on vinyl. In addition, I have traveled to see them and paid to get in to several shows. I also burned a copy of their disc for other people who I thought would like them, and AJ not only bought shirts and CDs, but he's trying to put one of their songs in his movie, which would be a huge boon for everybody. So burning is not always a bad thing. But this particular person does not get it. I read a really great piece last year by a music writer (was that your friend Carl, J?)about how buying music and going to shows is a music fan's way of patronizing the arts. I think I even blogged a link to the piece because I thought it was so important.
Now I feel that it is time to put my money where my mouth is. So the new rule? You can't burn anything I own by a band that isn't riding in a fucking tour bus and mugging on MTV. And I really don't own any of that anyway, so you're S.O.L. Unless, of course, I am proselytizing. In which case, burn away.

Still here!

(No thanks to Michael Chabon.) So in the interest of trying to continue my catchup, here are a few more items:
Two weeks ago, a bird flew into the house. (In continuing my tradition of talking about pictures I can't show you, I will tell you that we have several. And he was cute.) He came right in the kitchen door, which was very easy because I have yet to fix the screen that came off just before the Bird Incident. Luckily for the bird, the dogs were outside. And lucky for us, he flew upstairs into our bedroom, which has a balcony door. So we shut the door to the rest of the house and proceeded to hop up and down alternately on the bed, the dresser, and a lovely antique trunk (which I will also not be posting photos of), waving our arms and trying to gently get him out to freedom. This went on for some time. Remarkably, he managed not to poop on the bed, the furniture, or either of us. He kept landing up high and almost getting out the door, perching just above the frame or hanging jauntily from the portable screen, as if mocking us. The only thing better than photos of said bird would be video of myself and the b.h. trying to shoo him outside. Alas, you have neither, which makes this story a lot less interesting.
On the garden front, my peppers are taking for-fucking-ever to get going. This is intensely frustrating as I have spent much time and energy (and money, which I don't even want to think about at the moment) growing the little buggers from seed, dragging them in and out of the house to protect them from the elements, finally forming actual beds with actual soil, planting them in nutrient rich soil, only to find them crawling along. Ugh. This is largely due to the insane drought our state is currently experiencing, (which is also fueling the now famous wildfires, which span both Georgia and Florida, and are damaging my lungs on a daily basis), as the plants are not fond ( I only recently learned) of our incredibly chlorinated tap water. So short of buying an expensive filtration sysytem for the garden spigot, i am relegated to watering, mulching, and feeding (the organic fertilizer I bought smells like a corpse. Come to think of it, there's probably a reason for that...)the little buggers, all I can do is hope that the rain eventually comes, and that when it does it doesn't wash them away. Mostly this is frustrating me because it is preventing me from participating in the Farmer's Market, and I really, really want to be involved.
On a better note, the rock has continued to roll here in our fair city. The fabulous Fleshtones graced the stage at tasty World last week. I had missed them the last time around, and when I asked Murphy (the owner of said establishment) why the lead singer looked so familiar, he said, "Well, he did host 120 Minutes for a long time." No shit? Wow! So the show that was arguably the most responsible for broadening my musical horizons and making me the woman I am today was hosted by that guy? Awesome. They were really great- lively and loud, and dancing on the bar (in the good way, not in the Will-fucking-Hogue, pretend spontineity way (Have I mentioned how much that guy sucks? Well he does. Stay away.) So yeah. I look forward to their return.
The real surprise came the next night. J. Roddy Walston and the Business opened a show and completely blew me away. I was ecstatic. They were so good that my friend K, who is a sound guy (which means he's more jaded about bands than I am), even liked it. I bought a shirt and a CD, and I have not stopped talking about them since. Wow. In my job, that's the best thing you can hope for, really. Having a band you have never heard of or heard anything about just come in and kick your ass is about the best feeling there is. I can't wait until they come back.
I had another interview with the National Coffee Chain. Lots of people have been aghast when i mentioned seeking employment there, but I have to say that insurance is sounding pretty attractive to me right now. I haven't seen a doctor (aside from the the ones at the Emergency Room) in eight years, and I think the dentist has been nine. And I probably need glasses at this point, too. So yeah, I can froth milk for full coverage. The guy that I had the second interview with was particularly cool. He has visions of community involvement for the NCC, geared mostly toward local and organic food and education, which are two things that I (obviously) care deeply about. He is looking for somebody to help him institute(word choice?) some programs. And sling coffee. Cross your fingers kids. Momma needs a new pair of glasses.
I still haven't decided whether or not I want to apply to the Organic F@rming Certificate program. It's not that I don't feel like it would be useful. It's just that i can't decide if it is $5,000 useful. We'll see.
Okay, so that's it for now. A.J. is in town, so I suspect that this may be my last chance to sit on my ass and read for awhile.

Back.

Okay, so I have been gone a long, long time. The reasons are many, including but not limited to a death in the b.h.'s family, a visit from some of my family, computer glitches, and the sheer overwhelming amount of shit I have done. I can't even begin to begin. But here goes:

Dog Hair Cuts. They are adorable, if somewhat less fuzzy. I would love to post some photos, but I can't seem to get my camera and my computer on speaking terms. Suffice to say that Wyatt has gone from mini German Shepherd to fat opossum in no time flat.

The school year has finally ended at UGA, which brings our business down a considerable percentage, making my job less intense and less lucrative in the process. I have been filling my time so far, but not so much the bank account. More on that later.

Rural Mississippi. As depressing as you imagine it, and even hotter. Met the rest of the b.h.'s family. It went well. At least as well as you could hope for under the circumstances.

The Beauvilles. A really excellent rock band that played in town recently, redeeming the state of Florida very slightly in my mind. Check them out.

The Drams. A highlight in an otherwise fairly dark month- got to have dinner with them at our friend J's house, so got to have real conversation as opposed to the kind that we usually get, shouted over the bar between bands. I love those guys more than I can possibly say. You might, too. We also drove to Macon to see them play the next night and it was amazing. The set was like two hours long, and Macon was true to form in that the audience was incredibly enthusiastic despite having never heard the band before. It was great fun. My friend K stayed here with the boys so we could spend the night and take our time getting back. I picked up a lovely cement bust of Elvis along the way. I will also post a photo of that when I get my camera and my computer to reconcile. Oooh- and I managed to get a decent recording of The Drams covering Blue Eyes, a traditional song that is one of my favorites. There is more to tell, but right now I am knee deep in a Michael Chabon novel that I picked up on the bargain shelf at B & N yesterday. More later, promise.

Are You Local?

It turns out that my new favorite laundry soap is. Well, local-ish, anyway. It is made in North Carolina, it comes in what amounts to a small brown paper bag, is certified biodegradable, non-toxic, and hypo-allergenic. It doesn't smell like anything, and you only need a tablespoon to wash a whole load of clothes. Yay! It's called Charlies Soap. The label says it "Cleans everything from silk frillies to shop rags."
So yeah- I had a good day at Earthf@re today. They also have a sale on body care products, so I got more cardamom mint foot lotion (drool), and some Tom's fennel toothpaste. Cut some flowers from the garden, weeded, put up a new fence (Kilgore's ability to leap fences continues to astound and frustrate me), and consoled a heartsick friend for about two hours on the phone. Now it's time to turn off the brain, open a beer, and watch a dvd.
Happy Sunday, y'all.

Sigh.

I came home and posted after work last night. I don't remember everything I said, but it was a fairly lengthy, definitely snarky, and potentially funny account of last evening's frat-tivities. I don't know how or why, but it got lost. I know I was not drunk (not for lack of desire to drink away the pain, but for lack of time in which to consume the quantity of alcohol that would be required to do so. Plus, I am the designated driver.), but I somehow obviously managed not to hit either the 'save' or 'publish' button. Ah well, such is life. I'm sure it's funnier in my head anyway. Suffice to say that I told a guy that i was going to "Come over the bar and hurt (him)", and then truned and sweetly asked somebody's dad "What can I get for you, darlin'?"
We watched a documentary yesterday called This Film Is Not Yet Rated. It is reviewed and critiqued very well over at hyperbolically challenged, the link to which is to your left. I will just say that it was interesting and informative, and made me wish for the umpteenth time that I lived somewhere else.

Mayday.

That's Mayday, as in S.O.S., not rites of Spring and whatnot. I have been at a creative low ebb. I (gasp) don't feel as if I have anything to say. I have been a bad, bad blogger. I don't mean to be both sporadic and boring, but honestly I just can't think of anything interesting to talk about at the moment. I did finally get the garden mulch, but one truckload turned out to be less than I thought it would be, so I have to get another truckload before I can plant. I did manage to get some fennell in the ground. It has to have its own bed because it doesn't play well with others. Cross your fingers for me that it takes. I absolutely love the stuff.

We did get to see Spider Man 3 the other night. Can't get into too much detail, as I never know who might be lurking online, but we have a friend who works at a local theater and occasionally will preview something at 3am. We liked it a lot. But then, I'm pretty easy when it comes to super hero flicks. Venom looked cool and scary, the Sand Man CGI was absolutely killer. I have seen some shitty reviews of this movie. Somebody said it was "over the top"(?). I personally find that hilarious, because in my humble opinion, it's what these movies are about.

Somewhere in the middle of that movie I started feeling pretty gross, and by the end I had a full-fledged cold, which I am still nursing. So too tired to think of more fun stuff to say. Many thanks to Z for giving me both reading material and eye candy whilst I cough and weeze and consume much tea.

More reasons to love the British...

Why are people here so shocked by this word? It's so appropriate.

Running The World



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