I think your old man and my old man should get together and go bowling.

It's a fried pickle night.

Our collective future at the photo lab continues to look bleak. We're doing really well for Christmas, but as Cinema Mark and I agree, almost no amount of kicking ass is going to both make up for the past (the debt the store has) and cover the tumbleweeds of January. Mark is counting on leaving after the holiday, which he can somewhat comfortably do and focus more on cinematography work.

I've put it off as long as humanly possible but I've started looking for other jobs. My first stop was a site for jobs at the numerous federal agencies here in DFW, one of which was very similar to a job (I'm told) in DC for which I made the final cut but was hopelessly defeated by two veterans (damn veterans). It was a public relations position, for which I have nearly zero qualifications--and in this DC job I qualified at an alarmingly high grade--and I figured hey, who's stopping me. However, this one seems to be linked directly to the field of education. Let's stop a moment and review my background in educational studies.

Back in 2000 when I minored in political science, I took a class that was 1/3 poli sci, 1/3 education and 1/3 law. It was a really interesting class, and while it was infact open to undergrads, it was mostly a grad studies class (I know now) for education majors. Apparently those degree plan counseling sessions might not have been such a bad idea. Anyhoo, I learned shitloads and shitloads, but I was also so painfully out of place. One key example...during the law part, we read different court cases and discussed whether we agreed with the Court's opinion, any dissenting Judge's opinions, etc. Well, we got to Wisconsin v. Yoder (1972), and to sum up and steal from wiki and about.com:

"Wisconsin v. Yoder is the case in which the United States Supreme Court found that Amish children could not be placed under compulsory education past 8th grade, as it violated their fundamental right to freedom of religion."

The significance:

"The decision prohibited state governments from claiming any absolute right to institute compulsive high school education and intrude into the way in which families raise children.

It would set a bad precedent to tell the Amish that they can’t raise their children the way they wish; at the same time, it would be a grievous error to assume that families can do anything they wish in the name of their religion. At some point, the interests of the children must take precedence and the problem with this decision is that the line between parental rights and children’s rights is not adequately addressed."

In the end, only one Judge (Douglas) had recognized this and was the sole dissenter. But the point is that when the professor asked everyone if they agreed with the Court's decision, I was the only one to raise my hand. And he fucking smiled, like it was cute or something. I argued my side, the whole time feeling like we were studying geology and I had raised my hand to say something like, "Yes, I absolutely believe the government planted those 'dinosaur' bones in the ground!"

I can still see either side of the debate (the Amish case, not whether or not dinosaurs are real), which probably makes my dad roll his eyes even now...

The point is, I don't have a lot of background in education. A third of a class might not count for much. And I doubt I could even very eloquently describe what a magnet or charter school is anymore...I certainly won't try it here.

So I kept filling out this (multiple choice) application telling myself I was honest in my answers...and then we got to the show-stopping fill-in-the-blank "Please state your views on (some education-related current event I couldn't bullshit my way out of if my life depended on it)." Yeah, I closed the window and admitted defeat.

So the search continues. There is a fallback plan (working full-time at the new Studio Movie Grill in Arlington as a projectionist) but I'm trying so hard for that not to happen. But that's another entry...

A naked American man stole my balloons.

Joe Fitzgerald with Alexandra. AKA Indiana Jones and Gothic Lolita. Check that chair, my god.


Joe and Jean's wedding day. Joe, my mom, my dad and Rachael (Purple Genie).



Two days before my wedding. Jean, Joe and my parents. My mom made dinner for everyone that night; about twelve, including two little ones. The famous macaroni went first.

Careful, Sheldon. Don't forget you're only wearing a towel.

See those? Those belong to meeeeeeeeee. One of my xmas prezzies. It's a yearly thing but I get excited about it every damn time. They are so yum.

I nibbled on those while we watched the last episode from the first disc, first season of Remington Steele. I have got to say, I'm so impressed. I thought RS was really going to be painful and/or just straight up blow. But whereas the old Miami Vice episodes really didn't age well (but are oh-so-fun) since they took themselves so damn seriously, the old RS 'sodes are so very tongue-in-cheek that it's full of great lines. Last night's episode in particular was great.

For the excitement in our night, last night after D had fallen asleep with Mouche on the sofa and I was wrapping up on-line, I heard the most deafening crashing and shattering. It lasted about 2.2 seconds but the whole time all I could picture was the tree going over or the leftover ornaments on the table being shattered (all of this was confusing to me because we have carpet in the den).

Let's set the scene.

The other night I put a grocery bag with some light bulbs on the table and never went back to it. Last night, Bourdain (who loves to chew plastic) somehow gets his head in the handle of the bag and, I can only presume, freaks the fuck out at not being able to get readily out. He proceeds to tear ass around the house, whacking the bag into walls, tables, everything, shattering the bulbs inside and then sprinkling them all around the house. In 2.2 seconds.

By the time we get to the scene, he's in the kitchen. I hold him while I take the bag handle from his neck, and I mostly certainly yelled at him (though not while I was holding him, I'm not a complete sadist). He cowered in the kitchen while we cleaned up. As I was dumping broken glass into the trash, I looked over at him, still pissed.



It's a little off the mark, but you get the idea. He was equal parts utterly terrifed (which had been the problem in the first place, leading to glass everywhere) and totally ashamed. I felt so bad. I put him in the bedroom while I vacuumed up the rest (the vacuum's prescence makes him shit bricks. My small cat is a little neurotic if this just somehow isn't coming across in the writing). Then I sat down with him in the bedroom and cooed and cuddled him til he was purring and altogether quite a happy camper once again.

It was quite enough excitement for one night. And I fully expect that regardless of the clean-up, we will continue to find teeny tiny shards of glass for the next week in the most unfortunate places.

Dinner with D and the father-in-law tonight.

I may have a nip of the 'nog first.

Titspervert. Titspervert.

Wow, Blogger REALLY wants me to switch to Beta. They've cleverly moved the "Continue" arrow right under their rant, so "Continue" now means "Yes, please switch me to Beta because this damn site doesn't ALREADY have enough bugs, what else can you taunt me with?" instead of "Fuck off and let me just get to my blog." They almost had me this time.

D spent the weekend with our old roommate Rob, xmas shopping. Rob may have a new girl, she slept over twice in a row. He was trying to find a non-commital xmas gift for her (apparently if you bang someone in Decemeber they automatically get a gift), but was trying to find one that didn't seem too "relationshippy." D met her and really likes her, (which is a huge plus because his last relationship was with this totally ugly and useless cum dumpster we both loathed), and he thinks Rob might really be thinking about trying things out. He can tell because Rob doesn't fart in front of her. Rob can really, oh, how to put this...clear a room? Move the earth? Wait, that's a sex metaphor...peel the paint? Well, I googled "metaphors for farting" and found a blog that went on way too long about farting in a relationship, but had these two comments that struck me as uh, worth reposting here? (Or not):

1. Me and a couple of mates have noticed...it really shows you feel comfortable with a lady when you let one rip and share a giggle. I had an ex who could pick my scent out from a crowd of blokes!

2. In my Country,when a woman farts,it is a sign of affection.The louder she farts,the more she likes you.The more pungent the aroma,the more passionate her love.I once saw a woman fart and take off like a balloon all over the dance floor.She won the dance competition and the heart of her betrothed,young Herman.

But anyway. The point is Rob has mean, mean farts. And he doesn't usually care where or with whom (yes, that includes me and D in his Jetta with the windows up). And it's worth mentioning that they aren't just loud; regardless of sound they are all really putrid. Yes, the whole zoo DID climb up inside his ass and die. Jesus, I have gone on WAY too long about farts!

So that was the weekend on the other side of DFW. Here in Arlington, my mother came out and we worked on (ok, she worked on) the blue pseudo-velvet curtains for the sunroom. They are coming along and looking very sexy. I can't wait to get them up on the southwest corner, where the neighbor's yard is far too clearly visible. Curtains and a big evergreen, on the way.

We mostly worked on putting up xmas lights outside the house. D and I had decided we wouldn't do it this year because we couldn't really afford to go buy a shitload of lights just for outside. We live on a 1-block cul-de-sac and the people on the street part have really gone over-the-top. Any of you here for the wedding know which houses--they were the ones with the serious Halloween displays. D and I loved their Halloween get-up, but you should see the fucking Christmas displays. They are as gaudy and tacky and ugly as one could ever expect. The most obnoxious house has both a longhorn (a real goddamn lit-up 3D longhorn--I don't think I've even seen those for sale) and a big Texas sign all lit up sayin' "God Bless Texas!" I shudder a little each time I drive by. Right on the corner is the Gay Parade house, everything very lit up in rainbow-colored lights. I doubt Gay Pride was their chosen theme, but I like to think so.

Anyhoo, the cul-de-sac part was all dark, plus I remembered we had a Target gift card left over from the wedding. I asked him D if I could spend it this weekend without telling him what it was for, but assuming he'd like it. He agreed and voila! They are chandelier-y type white lights, I'll take pics later. Simple and classy. I think they are a little large but D has yet to notice them. After he came home we made several trips from the street to the house to unload his car and he still didn't notice. But that makes me happy because I'd rather surprise him when they're all lit up and xmassy.

Ah, yes, back to the "He's Cheating!" customer. Basically at the end of the day I found myself scanning a photo for this woman, which she'd given to the personnel manager. He also does shipping and receiving (actually that's what he mostly does), but we'll refer to him as PM. And pertinent background info on PM is that he's incredibly socially awkward outside of work--even with co-workers outside of work. He wants to be a Catholic priest (but only sort kinda, if he could meet a nice girl and settle down he wouldn't, but the odds of that are quite slim. He has the patience of a gnat and his brain really shuts down with any sort of stress. But he's actually a nice guy for the most part and his quirks rarely show themselves...it's just that when they do, you readily remember how socially inept he really is).

Anyhoo. So he takes this pic from her and she asks if we can zoom in to the reflection in the car window (interior front passenger), blow it up and darken it. Her verbal cues indicate that she thinks she's being cheated on. PM brings it to me and I do it. PM, Cinema Mark and I all sit there darkening it and staring intently. First of all, this is her husband in the passenger seat and the next picture shows a guy in the driver's seat. PM wonders if someone in the middle or backseat could have taken it. After staring for a while, our definitive analysis includes:

1. The camera is too far back, it was definitely taken by the driver, even for a wide angle.
2. The reflection shows the guy's lap; his jeans and legs are easily defined.
3. His hand is in a cast?

So we didn't get much beyond the legs, but whatever. There's no one else in the car, and regardless of the cast or position of his hand/arm, it's the dude's lap, whatever. PM takes the photo to the woman.

Here we have socially awkward PM, who is then asked by this woman, "Well of course those are his legs but look, see that line there? Doesn't that look like a penis?" Poor PM. And neither Cinema Mark nor I saw the photo again after this new revelation (d'oh, what a moron!), but I was just dying to know if infact it did look like a penis. PM squirmed awkwardly and said something along the lines of, "Ma'am, I really don't know."

So I guess this woman's husband is cheating on her with his guy friend? And really, by the time you find yourself enlarging reflections, isn't it already probably time to have a talk?

Ok, time for wine.

I'm not sure you can get AIDS by burning down your house, but I get your point.

I am listening to either rain or sleet or both pelt the shit out of the house. The annoying thing about work when it sleets the night before is not knowing when it's melty enough to actually drive to work, and then trying to weasel out early before dark hits and it all turns to black ice. Especially since you were late in the first place. Luckily, one of the best perks of my current job is that no one gives a shit. About. Anything.

More importantly, my jaw aches from laughing so fucking hard at this post.

Seriously, I must have woken D.

And I have to go to bed now, but this is a reminder to myself to tell you about the He's Cheating On Me and You Can See His Penis In the Reflection of the Window customer I had today.

No, it's fine. It's real. You know, in actuality, Lobo would have to struggle with this problem every day.

Why is there always something new to download and update? Jesus, stop! Everything is fine! You don't need to change everything every five goddamn days! Sorry, I'm just tired of the constant barrage of "COCKBLAST HAS UPDATES!" or whatever.

Well, the town is positively a-twitter with the talk of "wintery mix" for tomorrow. And I am a little impressed that since last week, not only has the forecast for such not disappeared, it has gone from 40 to 60 to now 80%. *giggles* Though I also noted last night and this morning just how many %^#$& bridges I go over to and fro in the workday. Hmph. I hope everyone outside of DFW (well, TX, really) appreciates just how terrified and excited we all get by ice/sleet/snow down here. I bet you a thousand dollars that if the weather forecast stays the way it is, they will shut shit down tonight for tomorrow. People freak out. And then people get the day off and then they go drive (like shit) in it anyway. *facepalm*

Awww, squee! My Austin radio is playing not just Simon & Garfunkel, but The Boxer. *sighs and drapes herself lovingly over her Austin radio station* They really do play such a wide range of stuff, someone walking through had to ask how they classify themselves. I still don't know, I guess just "Austin radio." I really don't mean to sound like such an Austin whore, but I live in Dallas. We have neither radio nor culture.

Anyhoo. In our own hopes of having a chilly night, D and I randomly bought stuff to make smores. I have seriously made these things perhaps once in my life. They evoke two images. The Linguini Incident, because they used wire hangers to roast marshmallows for breakfast (with David Bowie, no less). And sometime in my early teen years, apparently I was in the woods for a party? I remember not really enjoying being there, which really supports the theory it was junior high. And there were lots of people. But seriously, that's all my brain has to offer me? It sure does start early... The point is, however, that we have stuff to make smores. Yeah.

Oh, Vel and Triana: remember your Spiii-dah balloon you guys got us for the wedding? He JUST YESTERDAY touched the ground. He has been afloat all this time. Whatever you paid, you got one hell of a balloon.

For Kiwi Derek, you wanted me to take you somewhere very "American" and very "Texan," that was incredible in the size of their servings. I wish I could have taken you here...(it almost goes on too long, and yet, that's part of its charm. Plus the last few steps are so worth it).

I never saw a guy get picked up by his nuts before.

Merry Christmas. Look, if you want me to digitally insert your stupid cats into your stupid family xmas photo, please make sure the pictures you take of your stupid cats are from at least a reasonable angle. Otherwise I get irritated trying to make them look normal. The tabby went ok. I got a little frustrated with the black one. Not that you could tell.

Savor me like the last rose of summer.

First of all, to Pam & Steve, anonymous customers somewhere out there, I have just one question. If you are going to send us a CD entitled "Adult Fun Pam & Steve In Japan," I think you at least owe me the explanation of why "In Japan," is even necessary when you only took extreme close-ups of each other's genitals. Do you do this in numerous countries? Do you need to keep them straight? And why were the last four titled "Surgery1" through "Surgery4"? Especially when they were just Pam's legs spread wide into the air? The visuals are repulsive enough, I don't need additionally disturbing titles (or randomly confusing ones for that matter). Thanks.

Then last night TiVO brightened my day considerably by taping The Colbert Report for me. I've been meaning to watch it, but you know how those things go. Oh my god. I kneel before it. If the show started telling me to do things, I just might. And I kneel before the TiVO and its wisdom. (Actually, it so seldom guesses our tastes right I nearly wet myself when it does).

And speaking of funny, I spent the better part of yesterday (at work) surreptitiously reading a now-defunct blog called The Daily Dump. An oddly weird work story ties in with this. The personnel manager buys paper towels and tissues for the store, including for the backroom lab, where I work. He will always announce these purchases with the grandeur of someone replacing my Godiva truffle stash (if I had one). I don't even use the frigging tissues, but he does. That's fine, but if I don't even use them I also don't care if they are 'lotion' tissues (which sounds vaguely creepy, now that I'm typing it) or anti-viral tissues. And while we're at it, how often and for how long can you discuss the purchase of tissues? Quite often and for a while, in case you wanted to know.

Anyhow, thanks to The Daily Dump, I used those stupid tissues twice yesterday. The first time, well, wait. In this scenario, I'll be played by Cameron Diaz, as it's more or less a Cameron Diaz kind of move. I wasn't expecting it to be that funny, it caught me off guard. Let's just say I laughed with my nose. The tissues came into play. The second time, I was laughing for so long and hard that I started to cry. Then I got paranoid that someone would come into the backroom and want to know what was wrong. I was kinda screwed either way. Either I had to make something up to be upset about or admit that I was dicking around reading some random blog. Luckily, it never came up.

So far, I can give you three examples that are my favorites. I'm thrilled there are a ton of archives. Work is sounding good today.

1. Name Baby 'Shit'
2. Massive Erections Around the Corner
3. Fuck You, Owl!

And considering I wrote the above in the AM and it is now into the late PM, today was actually full of stupid work and I didn't get to play at all. Oh well. There is always tomorrow. And Thursday holds the promise of "wintery mix" and therefore, a very dead work day.

Those flowers were supposed to say, "We love you, we're sorry," not "You're dead, let's disco!"

I made it back to Arlington from Denton yesterday afternoon. My dad sent me an article telling me to be glad I no longer lived in Austin, as traffic south of Waco was jammed for 15 miles (undoubtedly in either direction since no one has anything better to do than look) because a tractor trailer went over and then the crane that was sent out to right the trailer also fell over. Ah, what fun traffic shenanigans.

I did manage to have my own fun, however, thanks to Bourdain the not-really-a-kitten-anymore. He yakked up as planned, though as I may have mentioned, finding a gas station on 35W around Fort Worth is frustrating to say the least. But I pulled off at the Texas Motor Speedway (sign #65 I really love my cat), as its signs promised to be positively teeming with them. I pulled off to find dick. My side of the service road was so deserted, infact, that with one quick glance around, I opened the passenger door and essentially chunked really wet cat barf onto the lawn of the Texas Motor Speedway. I'm not saying I got a ton of satisfaction out of it, but laughing derisively and flipping off that NASCAR monstrosity may very well have made it look that way. Anyhoo, having done my part to beautify the Texas highways, I drove on.

Bourdain then alternated from the eardrum-shattering meows about halfway in, resorting instead to the ever-pitiful heart-wrenching little mews, which are infact, more effective. But I certainly didn't have a whole lot to offer him in the way of choices, so we drove on. After a little ways, I noticed an odor, but dismissed it. Surely that wasn't the odor of a completely different misadventure. Alas, as I discovered at home, it was. My little cat not only barfed up for me, he shat himself. Ah, Thanksgiving.

But on the hugely plus side, after D got home we bought a Christmas tree! I have to say, Alex, those Blue Spruces look prettier every year. But the one I liked best was 8-9' tall and about $65. So we got a 7-8' Douglas Fir, which was quite nice, too. We named her Jenni-fir Connel-tree. Buh-dum-ching. We agreed before we started to put her up that anything said to each other during said work just didn't count. Amazingly, it took about ten minutes to trim her and put her up, no fight or resistance whatsoever. That means next year is gonna blow.

But I did have a very happy smug moment as a married woman, watching D wrestle Jenni-fir from the the trunk, knowing I neither had to trim her down nor carry her in. That was clearly marked under 'husband' in the wedding agreement. And now I totally have one of those!

Now I am all giddy about putting lights and whatnot on her tonight after work. D has to hit the Home Depot for a surge-protecting-uber-power-strip for the entertainment system (and now the tree), so I am hoping to charm a couple strands of bubble lights out of him as well. Bubble lights make the world go round.

And yes, Bourdain already tried to eat the tree (no one said he was bright, just cute), but luckily he spat her out once she stuck him.

And lastly, as far as films, I only saw one yesterday. As much as I may like most of his other films, my advice would be to stay far away from Louis Malle's Lacombe Lucien. Unless you like tedious, annoying and vaguely depressing films. Total shit.

I thought that rabbit was eating your head.

Sometimes I get bothered by the fact that my blog is one of those "Yesterday, my cat pooped," type blogs. I get a little bogged down wishing I should write about more interesting things...and I've noticed the blogs that really entertain me (as far as ones written by people I don't know) are written by single people. Even when I was single I didn't have a lot of drama going on, but being single and/or dating is just ripe for ranting. But then, I counter this thought by thinking that if I can make a "My cat pooped," blog funny and/or interesting, that's a much harder challenge. I should be able to make any topic interesting, if I'm a good writer. Theoretically. And then I'll just bore the shit out of you in the meantime while we're all waiting for it to happen. Plus if I freak out too much about the content and whether or not it's interesting enough, I'll probably stop writing, thereby defeating the purpose of this being an exercise in almost-daily writing.

Maybe I'll write about other people's drama. I won't write about work because while I would love to go into far too much detail about those people, there are only six of us and if there's a keystroke logger on the lab computer or something, then I'm just screwed. The owner may be non-confrontational and supremely lazy, but that doesn't mean he isn't paranoid like the rest of us.

An entire book could be written about my best friend and her ex, previously written about as MOH and Ex. I think at this point it's just too repetitious and annoying to be entertaining. As I'm good friends with Ex, he often seeks out my advice which is probably not the best idea since I'm better friends with MOH, though she and I do talk less on the subject. I've been out of ideas on what to tell Ex for the past three years, yet he still seeks out my opinion. I feel bad, I wish I knew what to say. They've just been on and off again for about eight years, she sporadically cheats and then tells him about it and/or breaks up with him and he waits in the wings. I used to (try to) imply that he should grow a sac and move on and really break it off but that never really happened and now there's money involved and a whole bunch of mini-drama. Again, this has been going on in some form or other since 1999. At some point it gets so old and typical that it just blows your mind because the cycle lives on and refuses to die. In any case, it's none of my business and I realize Ex just wants to vent to me but I say the same thing OVER AND OVER and feel like I'm no help whatsoever.

And since I don't have any friends who live near me, there's no good drama there...

I've been thinking about auditioning for a play, which I have not done in years and would be fun. I need to take advantage of the fact that this is the first time in months I haven't had three jobs. At first I was moving, setting up the house and getting ready for a wedding. Now it's xmas time and I'm greedily enjoying the holiday time rather than working to earn more money. Which would make far more sense if I wanted to hit Japan in the spring. But Ellen Aim has never gone in for this "making sense" business. Plus she would rather just get a whole new job altogether, especially since the current one seems to always be on the brink of closing forever. And there is NOTHING. more. depressing. than. looking. for. a. job. Nothingnothingnothing. Nothing makes you feel more worthless or helpless. I am 1,000% convinced that "who you know" is how EVERYONE gets a job. Therefore I'm basically screwed. And since I refuse to leave the house, I am basically my own problem.

It's almost ten in the morning, I guess I probably can't make a drink just yet.

No, I'm six points sexier and she's ten points bitchier.

Woo hoo! Finally in Denton. Bourdain made me feel each and every passing minute of that trip. Because of his E collar, Mouchette had to ride in the huge pet taxi and Bourdain got the shoulder bag. Mouche is a fantastic traveller (he's no Norton, but I sure appreciate his patience), so he usually gets the shoulder bag. I give Bourdain the Pet Taxi to help minimize his freak-outs. I don't think anything matters all that much, he freaks out no matter what.

And despite my early pleas for him to refrain from barfing until we got closer to Denton, he yakked up about twenty minutes in. I had to pull over at a truck stop and wipe down the bag as best I could, but he was already laying in it. My dog, ladies and gentlemen.

And he meowed. And he meowed. And he meowed.

We got to Denton and I had to take him into the bathroom and mop him down. He has actually been fairly brave and at one point ventured out into the den. Mouche is bobbing around in his E collar and doing fairly well. There have been no showdowns or disasters just yet.

Watched An Inconvenient Truth, which is just as good as everyone says it is. It's not as depressing as you might expect (I mean, it IS, but it's not overwhelming). It just shows a lot of really amazing stuff about global warming. I tend to forget there are people out there who still think global warming is a big liberal scam. *SIGHS* But I really highly recommend it--plus it's on the short side and not only does Al Gore have fantastic presence, it's quite funny in several parts. Anyone who still blathers about his being "wooden" obviously hasn't seen this film.

And then dinner was, of course, fantastic. But we didn't roast a turkey. My mom made a recipe out of Fine Cooking Oct/Nov 2006, Dried Apricot & Date Stuffed Turkey Breast with Marsala Glaze. OMG. Seriously, it was the yummiest thing I've had to eat that I can recall these days. I watched her tie up the second one and it didn't look too difficult. I might try. I'm really not a turkey person at all, it gets dry so easily...but the whole 'turkey' thing didn't even cross my mind while I was eating, I just kept shoveling it in...the side dishes were great as well but I couldn't get enough of this recipe!

Ok, time to go watch something cheery. All my Netflix rentals are major downers...so Alex & I watched Mystery Date last night although we both had a hankering for the tragically awful Modern Girls. I blame Depeche Mode.

You want a quarter? Kiss my ass! Find me in New York for a fucking quarter!

Aaaaaahhh, no more work for four whole days. We're open on Friday, but I'm choosing not to partake. (And you know, they're choosing not to pay me). But I couldn't pass up a few days off in Denton, where my family lives. Plus my dad's birthday is Saturday, so really, might as well make one big holiday out of it.

We watched the 2006 Comic Relief last night, courtesy of TiVO. Well, and me asking TiVO to tape it. But thank god for TiVO. I cannot imagine watching all 3 1/2 hours of that. (Somehow it doesn't bother me a smidge to watch all 4+ hours of the Oscars, but this would have been too much?) But two people really cracked me up--Lewis Black and D.L. Hughley (of Studio 60). Sarah Silverman and Bill Maher were quite decent as well. But uh, yeah, that's it. I'm never sure if I like Sarah Silverman, I think I do...but damn her humor is going to get her shot one day...but it's certainly interesting.

Well, the husband and I usually split up for Thanksgiving, he goes home to Tyler (or in this case, just stays in Dallas since some family friends live here and his dad's job makes it easier for everyone to just meet up in Dallas) and I hit Denton. Since he'll already be in town, I think he'll join me in the evening. They're one of those families that eat Thanksgiving at noon...

And I'll be taking the boys with me to Denton. Mouche still has his E collar. I think he'll have to keep it on, actually. It's healing really well but it's scabbed over and I don't want to tempt fate. We're keeping his eyes clean for him (which he loves us doing...NOT) in addition to still medicating his spot. He knows Alex's cats and the house, but I may keep him confined to the bedroom to keep him from freaking out. Being in a less-than-familiar place with a goddamn E collar on probably isn't the most calming thing. And I even bought him his own temporary litter trays. Bourdain may want to use them as well because Bourdain is going to flip the fuck out. To Bourdain, ANYTHING new is very, very bad. I am expecting him to barf on the roadtrip and then hide all weekend. It's good for him, builds character.

Ooh, and I even bought a ton of pork butt for my Carolina BBQ, which I made a ways back and wrote back but am too lazy to link to. It will begin marinading tomorrow and then be slowly cooked for seven hours on Saturday. MMMMMMMMMMM.

Pasta's ready! And the TiVO has been dutifully taping so many exciting things...

I like words and letters, but I'm not crazy about complete sentences.

Got some B&W back today...

The gorgeous Canadian Nell...(who, if anyone knows any Americans in Austin looking for a Canadian wife, she says she's up for it. Apparently dying to stay in Austin)...



Fiona likes Triana better than she likes me!!

But I think she might like the mirror behind me better than all of us.

Emily & Michael (MOH & Ex), deciding; Campo Verde is yum Tex-Mex.

And just for Yasamin, this is part of the set from Mob & the wife K. It's sitting on Steve the Spa, for that hot, dewy look. Martini glasses, soon to come...

Well, red usually means "caution"...or, "beef" if it's a bouillon cube.

Ceremony! Love how Fiona finally snagged her mom's bouquet.


Kiwi Derek, very much responsible for keeping me sane during said wedding (and the week before).

D and his brother Brett. D never did see that shoe lace again. We had to buy him new ones in Austin.

Joe Fitzgerald and my dad. I nearly introduced Joe as my dad at one point. And my dad is dressed up as E Coli, if you note his tie.

Emily and yup, me again.

Men smear.

Well damn! I like clams! They were really good. I was just so excited that they opened, like the recipe promised. (Well, two little bastards didn't, but whatever).

The makeshift steamer turned out to be really easy, as some cooling racks I have fit perfectly on top of some of my pans. With a little foil, voila! They really do take on the flavor of whatever you cook/steam them in. I think they even got some of the salmon from the neighboring pot. But they were so neat and tasty, I highly recommend. They weren't creepy like I imagined. D liked them as well.

Work has really picked up, which is great for job security. I actually broke a sweat yesterday, it was positively wild.

As far as annoying house things go, the refridgerator has decided to intermittently stop running. We're not sure if it's the fridge (which, granted, is a somewhat mammoth ancient thing left to us by the owners) or the socket into which it's plugged. We switched sockets...so far so good. Though the socket thing is scarier. But I promise to keep you up-to-date on this absolutely scintillating topic.

D and I started watching The Running Man tonight, as I'd never seen it before (somehow). It's (so far) hitting waaaaaaaay too close to home. It can't be long before we have reality shows like that.

On a much sadder note, the demolition has started on Fry Street. I won't link to it because last time I did they started coming over here and talking to me. I'm all about comments on the blog, but at the same time I'd like to say "I can't believe people were actually holding candlelit vigils," without being made to feel bad about it later. I'm quite sad to see Fry Street go, worse yet to be replaced by CVS, Walgreens, Barnes & Noble and the like, but I'm not going to stand outside with a lit candle while they tear it down.

But I will hit Cool Beans' game room one last time...

Bitch pressin' charges? I get that a lot.

I watched The Future of Food this morning, which was really interesting. It was mostly about how evil Monsanto is and how wrong it is that patents on genes and living organisms are allowed now. For example, they showed that once Monsanto's genetically engineered plants are spread into a farmer's crops (in their main example, seeds had fallen off a passing truck), they then become property of Monsanto. This was even upheld by the Supreme Court, regardless of the notion that the farmers had in no way actively participated in securing the cross-pollination; it wasn't even an issue that it was a mishap. It was still found to be under Monsanto's patent, therefore it was their plant and they had to be paid for it.

The whole film was very anti-genetically-engineered food. It reminded me that I had seen an episode of Penn & Teller: Bullshit! in which Penn and Teller were outraged that anyone would be against it. Their point of view was that genetically engineering food allows for more crops per acre and was very much in the vein of helping starving third world countries. That whole view point was tossed aside in about five minutes of Future of Food, when they explained how it wasn't the lack of food making these countries starve. It's when the USA subsidizes our crops (because the farmers don't make enough of a return on the crops to stay afloat) and then it affects the farming from other countries (the third world countries) and essentially boots out the farmers. It went on into greater detail than I can.

And I'm sure there is pro-green science out there, but it's not the science being endorsed by major companies. Monsanto was even quoted saying that it wasn't their job to make sure it was safe, that's the FDA's job. Monsanto's job is to sell as much of it as possible. However, the film claimed, the government hardly ever does regulate it. They went through a whole list of politicians in Washington (including the Supreme Court), who not only served in Washington but had held positions on boards or as legal representation for these companies, largely Monsanto. And in the end, food is not required to say on the label when it is genetically engineered. (Because where there's no label, there's no easy liability). How does that just NOT look shady? But it's all just interesting; I still try to keep an objective mind when watching these "documentaries," who obviously have their own agenda.

And speaking of food, I copied this off imdb's news info. It's really refreshing; there is absolutely no way in hell measure like this would ever be taken over here. It kinda reminds me of the check-out aisles in Vermont that are candy and tabloid free.

U.K. Bans Junk Food Ads in Kids Programs

OFCOM, the British television watchdog, announced today (Friday) that junk food advertising will be banned on all children's programming. The ban will apply even to evening programs that have an above-average audience of children younger than 16, including music channels and many awards ceremonies. OFCOM estimated that the ban will cost broadcasters about $75 million per year in advertising revenue. OFCOM said that studies had led it to conclude that "the case for intervention is clear." Some health advocates said that the ban was too limited and should extend to all programs aired before 9:00 p.m. In a statement, Dr. Vivienne Nathanson, head of science and ethics at the British Medical Association, said, "OFCOM clearly believes that TV advertising has an effect on children's eating habits, yet it does not have the courage to recommend a more comprehensive ban."

But more importantly, Bond is kicking ass at the box office. Too bad it was competing against a kids' movie here in the US. It didn't have a prayer...though I'm impressed it came as close as it did. How the HELL it didn't top Tomorrow Never Dies is beyond me.

It's always funny when you first say you don't want tea, but then you decide you do want tea!

I had the Carmike nightmare again. The one where I'm working there again as a projectionist but no one shows me around. So there are five theatres and the upstairs booth can only be accessed (as far as I can find) by a ton of crawl passages and cubby nook things. All I'm thinking is, "How the hell do they move prints downstairs?" I'm running at least thirty minutes behind on starting shit, but no one really says anything. There are no walls between the theatres, so even though one movie has sold out and has a massive crowd, I'm trying to keep Moulin Rouge from being too loud as it's right next door. Apparently there can be a happy medium. Oh, and speaking of Moulin Rouge, the lens is not even in the turret. It's sitting on top of it, and I have to inch it around to keep it as much on the screen as possible, rather than the ceiling, the walls, etc. It occurs to me while I'm doing this that the movie should be drastically going in and out of focus, as nothing is really holstering the lens. So it promptly starts to. I kinda move it back to where it was and move along in my work. The next day they make me work concession. I wasn't really into it. And luckily I woke up not long thereafter.

And D informs me he's got "How Much Is That Doggie in the Window?" in his head. One of those mornings around here, I guess.

I think today may involve finishing the thank-you notes, probably at the Fort Worth Flying Saucer. I get distracted if I do them here. Cats sitting on me, etc.

Last night was pizza, wine and MST3K's The Giant Spider Invasion. I haven't seen all of the Mike episodes, though this one was really funny. They often ARE, I'm just a sucker for the older ones. But this one had plenty of fantastic lines. And it also provided me with the subject line.

Bought salmon and clams last night. I was at Central Market and had just been reading about steaming seafood in an old Fine Cooking. It sounded do-able, even if I have to come up with some sort of makeshift steamer. And their picture of cooking the clams didn't look like they were steaming them, just sort of...had them in the pan. (That will be a phone call to the mother, otherwise known as the person with answers to everything.) Watch, we're going to hate clams. But if the seafood is good anywhere, it's Central Market. This is Dallas, after all.

The guy who helped me was kinda friendly at first, then I guess I did something to qualify as annoying? He got kinda gruff and moody. I felt like kind of a dick while picking out salmon, as I was going for freshness and flavor (as it's being steamed and you can't hide mediocre fish at that point). I said I wasn't really big on salmon, which then made me feel like an asshole, like all the other Central Market customers who just randomly buy expensive fish but they aren't really into it. So I quickly said, "Well, the person I'm cooking for is." And he kinda grunted. So then I was one of those customers who offers up too much information and just won't shut the hell up. I didn't graduate to the latter stage, but I felt it.

Honestly the meat counter is more my kinda place. I openly drool on the glass at all the PRIME grade beef. Sirloin, fillet mignon...oh, especially those...the lamb looks good, too. But if I ever cave it's going to be on the fillets. I just don't buy them because all we have at this point is the George Foreman and that doesn't seem quite right to me. Gonna need a proper grill first. I'm thinking spring. (Although, honestly, you could probably grill outside right now).

Ok, off to attempt a makeshift steamer. This should be a pain in the ass.

"Vesper?" I do hope you gave your parents hell for that.

Daniel Craig.




IS. THE. ONE. AND. ONLY. BOND.

NOT ONLY...is he the most fantastic fucking Bond that I've ever seen...that movie? Yeah, bitch. THAT'S A BOND MOVIE!!!!

First of all, Bond has never looked like it hurt so much to be Bond.

Certain elements were predictable, to me at least. And then things that weren't...well, I can say I got kinda fooled, but then not. There was at least one good double bluff, which is fitting considering the setting.

I could give two shits about people bitching that it's the first Bond but it's set in present-day (let him drive the goddamn Aston Martin and shut the hell up) and yet Judi Dench is still M. Who gives a fuck, it's Bond and Bond is about two things. Style, and kicking ass. I'd be pissed if Judi Dench weren't in it. The style would have been lacking.

This is the best goddamn Bond film ever, ever, ever. And Daniel Craig is the best goddamn Bond, full stop.

The only clue I can give you is this: every time you think it might be over, it's not even close. And that's a good thing.

And now if you'll excuse me, I think I need to go have sex in about eight different ways. AND THERE WASN'T EVEN ANY ACTUAL SEX IN THE MOVIE!! That's how good it was.

And he said to me, "Brodie, how the hell else am I supposed to get the gerbil out?"

Maid of Honor, Emily, as Emily the Strange. With ex Michael behind her, getting ready.

The littlest unicorn, Sophia, with daddy Douglas.

Fiona the flower girl, and myself. Fiona, possibly less than thrilled. But coping admirably.

Nurse, will you take your clammy hands off my chair. You have the touch of a love-starved cobra.

The day at the photo lab continues.

I handed a woman's camera back to her, which we'd had to send out for repair. She knows I work in the lab and have no idea about what had previously happened with her camera. Not only that, we sent it away to be repaired. She watched me unwrap it and hand her the paperwork, just one sheet on which she'd signed away her rights.

"So what did they do to it to fix it?"

She must get a lot of blank stares in her life, because mine didn't faze her for a second.

"They've started using electrolysis to re-generate life into the cameras."

Ok, maybe I didn't say that. But one day they won't be able to stop me.

I have started listening to my Austin radio station here at work, and that does help the day considerably. I can't really use earphones in my job, and I'm in and out too much to do podcasts here, but good music is more than I could ever ask. So now I get to hear KGSR 107.1 all day. It's lovely. I miss decent radio. If only I could listen in the car...but I have the ipod for the car. I'm just being greedy.

A few more pictures, because I'm starved for content.

Myself, with Joe and Jean Fitzgerald



The flower girl, my nearly-5-year-old niece Fiona. Feeling much better away from the crowd.


Who knows what the hell I'm doing.

Love this one. Either my grin is really just becoming that fake, or else I look concerned D isn't going to get me that drink in time.



And that's it for this post, because Blogger has decided to stop letting me upload pictures. I have some really cute unicorns on the way, though.