They fuck you at the drive-thru.

Groan. Waiting for The Call. My li'l Jetta Hans is at the shop. His axle/CV joint thing was clicking. Sounded ominous...especially considering my commute and the frequency with which I'm on highways...Ah, and there it is. Not gut-wrenchingly bad (that would be if the axle had broken--$900!), but a good thrust with the elephant dick, nonetheless. Now the tricky part will be if they can get it done today. Otherwise that will involve my ass getting up at 4:30am tomorrow to go into work with D. I have a real problem with getting up that early when it does not involve the airport and my getting on a flight to a foreign land.

They had it ready. AAAAAAAAAAAND he found something else wrong after we'd hung up, but rather than call me back and charge me more, he just fixed it. It was about $180 worth of work, as well. He could have totally made that up for all I know. I'm going to assume he did not and that they are the best car place in DFW and I will continue to go there. And I will be blissful and happy.

On an annoying note, I get to be reminded yet again that I'm an intolerant asshole. One of D's co-workers is this--I hate to say naive because surely anyone raising a child can't be THAT naive. But REAL...twee? She's got the voice and genki-as-shit (energetically happy) attitude...not annoying in itself, but just someone who really gives off that saccharine, uncynical, religiously pure...jesus, look at me, I can't even describe this nice person well without sounding like a total dick myself. Suffice it to say, I think you get my point. Anyway, let's also introduce the fact that one thing I REALLY hate about being female is that when other females decide they want to sell Mary Kay (or whatever), you will want to try some. Wow. I don't even carry a purse. I cannot stand girly things nor do I usually wear any makeup whatsoever. But what girl wouldn't want to be pampered? See, this is why I am getting married. Only people with whom I have a matching set of rings do I care to be pampered by. Or really, total strangers (preferrably in Thailand) to whom I am willing to pay money. But in-between those two things, no. When small talk starts to come into play, no. And let's throw into this whole mix that I utterly loathe being social with anyone I do not willing choose to spend my time. So basically this nice girl really, really, REALLY (again, this is a total mystery to me, she BARELY knows me--hey, obviously!) wants me to come to her "coming out" party or whatever the fuck it is. I would rather off myself, and honestly, it's nothing personal. It's just that being painfully polite and being dolled up by people I can't swear in front of...yeah, I can't even bring myself to sacrifice one evening. And this month of all months? Can I get a "fuck no?"

The cuckcoo clock is still going.

I got about three hours of sleep last night cleaning up and painting, etc. So when Nate and Di dropped the Indestructible Bong off their balcony (episode #74) and it actually shattered, I honestly couldn't stop laughing. I don't know why it was so funny, but damn, it really was. Just another weird chick laughing her ass off while she drives to work at 7:30am. I try not to look at the other drivers...

It's way past bedtime.

Man is like a banana.

The kitchen. Is. Totally. Fucking. Done. It's painted, scrubbed, mopped, everything. I even managed to paint the window sills without Mouche hopping onto them. Amazing. And I love my kitchen.

One of our semi-regular customers backed into my car this afternoon, which you know, makes the day different. It was very minor, and even more impressive was that she left and then realized later what had happened and called us. She's older and thought she ran something over (don't ask, no one really gets this), but didn't really see what had happened. When she got home and saw green paint on her car, she called us to see if she'd hit anybody. Oh, just lucky me! And really, it's so minor. I feel like a bit of a cunt even having it looked at. I live in Dallas for fuck's sake, can I really keep track of the scratches and dings my poor baby manages to acquire (mostly at the Angelika, thanks) while left unattended? So because she called, it's going to get looked at...how am I not a shit in this scenario? I did tell her that I'd check with her first regarding the damage--if it's really minor she'd rather pay for it out of pocket than have her premiums go up. Honey, it's body work, it ain't gonna be cheap.

What's even worse is that I was never really thrilled with this lady to begin with. But honestly, it seems to depend on whether or not she's medicated that day. She's been okay lately...

Did I mention my awesome kitchen?

And what REALLY makes the day complete and perfect...wait, gotta go make sure it's still going...yes, mom, the cuckoo clock is GOING. This bitch has to be in JUST the right spot and at JUST the right angle and every single one of the cuckoo gods must be pleased...and THEN your clock shall work. We've had this clock at my house since I can remember and I got to bring it to my new house the day before yesterday...only it really hated me (and probably still does). But for now, for RIGHT NOW and for at least an hour now, it's WORKING. And the middle weight is dropping and apparently is unstuck. I LOVE this cuckoo clock (am I misspelling that?) and it would have been a shame to kick the shit out of it.

But one small annoyance of the day was that I found a farm like, two miles from my house! And their website promised strawberries! So I drove by on my way home...yes, to a sign that read, "Closed Until September." I love signs like that. Like when you get a business's voice mail during the work day and it starts to read off the hours of operation as if you're calling at 3am on Saturday night. Stupid farm.

And Derek from NZ is here! He's in LA and apparently it's one of the dirtiest shitholes he's ever seen but he's really glad to be here. What's really sad and unusual to me is that only now, four years after living in Japan, his accent just tickles me, like any fuckwit American. (You KNOW he's being bombarded by dumbshits going, "Say XX!" which he'll find cute and endearing for about five more minutes). But originally he just sounded...like a lot of other people around! And here I am, still saying things like "fixin' to." *sighs*

The cuckoo just chimed! It's still gooooooooooing!!!

Very much looking forward to Mob, K and a bunch o' weird titties this weekend. Please let there be several gay men around to keep me company!

Oooh, speaking of gay men, one of my bridesmaid's moms is making me a set of jewelry for my wedding! Really impressive crystals for a necklace, earrings and an anklet! (The last of which was my idea instead of a bracelet, which I don't really do, save my sterling charm bracelet...and Alex knows it's just an angsty teenage Dead Again throwback, and hey finally, it's all mine). But they are really gorgeous and I will try to post them tomorrow when it's not 3am.

I threw up three flicks to the top of the Netflix from Entertainment Weekly's (!) list of top 50 teen flicks ever, which my dad sent me. I saw Can't Buy Me Love maybe twice in my life, so I just now watched it again. *squirms embarrassed* to admit that holy shit! It was actually much better than expected! Totally painful Act II--III transition, O U C H, but really, it holds up remarkably well, especially considering it holds nearly zero nostalgia for me. Infact, parts of it bordered on cute. Fuck, I really did just say that. I also found the lead...Patrick Dempsey?? ok, I don't really know who the fuck that is, but apparently he gets around these days...well, he looks a lot different NOW...but back then he was (at least in this film), pretty damn dorky cute. Netfux is having maintenance at the mo', so I cannot tell you the other two high school flicks on the way. (Thought I'd have a threesome). I think Splendor In the Grass is one...no idea on the other.

And I gave up on Lost. I just can't care. D is still watching. I told him if he finished this disc I'd bump up one of his horror flicks. I listened off and on while fixing the kitchen. Know what I missed? NOOOOOOTHING! Stupid cocktease. I got other fish to fry, get off my queue.

Bedtime.

Are you doing what I told you? Are you thinking of that reed as a woman's nipple?

Ok, I'm back! Ahhh, loooooooooooooooong weekend over. Not long as in "long weekend off," either. Long as in, we had the goddamn Vistas Film Festival and I had work forever and ever...and then go home (or rather, eat dinner with D and take a nap at the old apartment, which is MUCH closer) and go BACK at midnight last night to screen The Queen. Now I was the one who offered to screen it, mind you. I adore Helen Mirren and while I didn't know much about the film's content, I knew it was going to be good. I was really, really wiped and the nap actually made things worse. I dragged my sorriest of asses back up to the theatre and parked my butt down for what I prayed would not be the fourth in a series of tremendously bad films my theatre has served me this past month. I felt like shit, I was tired, but I still had a feeling it was going to be good.

And oh, was it. At first, it's easy to get carried away with the great performances and miss the virtues of the film itself. It is a simple plot, after all. But it is very nicely done. It is a little British in regard to the way it paints Tony Blair, plus...wait, what am I doing? Just go over to BSL, I'll rant about it there. But oh, what great stuff this film was. I predict an Oscar for Helen Mirren. (Even though I'm afraid Judi Dench may have made Oscar wins for queens a spent thing...hardly her fault, of course!)

Didn't do much else. Excited for next weekend when Mob and K will be up for D's "official" bachelor party. I'm not sure what to expect, though it will be an interesting adventure compared to my usual Saturday nights. And yes, the little woman (that's me!) has been invited, too.

D and I carpooled today so we could hit Denton afterwards to see my parents and watch the new Heroes and Studio 60. The former was ok for a season premiere, the latter kinda left me cold tonight. I had an hour to kill after work so I popped next door to Target and updated the wedding registry. It occurred to me a few weeks ago that there weren't all that many less-than-pricey items on the list, so I fixed that. I got a little carried away in the Christmas lights section but dude they had some cool shit. And no, I didn't add anything tacky. I refrained from adding the animated skiing polar bear. Seriously, they had one. And a polar bear whose head moves (??); again, didn't make the cut. I'm merely tickled by the sexy hanging lights. They had neat ones, sue me.

We also celebrated Michaelmas today, which is really a British "holiday", celebrating the harvest and autumn. (As I always vaguely understood it). Mostly, when we were little, it was just a nice place for a holiday in between birthdays and Christmas when we each got one gift from our parents. I now have a copy of Susan Orleans' The Orchid Thief, which I've always been very curious about, and D received the special edition of Snatch. Made for a very nice day and now I'm tired and it's bedtime.

Bless the spa, that is all I have to say.

Going to attempt the movie review, may be left for tomorrow, we'll see...

You have that sharp, useless look about you.

omfg, WE HAVE INTERNET. It is glorious. I love it to pieces.

On another huge plus note, I finished painting the entire reading/spare bed Shire-room (remember, it's shire green) with D's help last night. And he was yard-ing it up all day, so he was a peach to help. But I had to finish it because today they are delivering....the new spare bed! Very excited. Now Kiwi Derek or Canadian Nell or my mom will have an actual bed on which to sleep! Preferrably not all at the same time. And it even fits in the designated 'bed' area I had allocated. Sweet.

Just got the kitchen left. Technically, also have to do the two bathrooms as well, but they aren't urgent. No one ever sees my bathroom and the guest bathroom is such a spectacle of ugly that new paint will be a mere dent in its salvation.

Got the naked Barbie tops for Rob's cake yesterday. I was giving them a test-run for position possibilities and you know? It's actually kind hard to get them to make out. Their boobs get in the way. I'm 27 and Barbie is still rubbing my nose it in. So in retaliation I think I am going to have to resort to far more profane positions. I have four, after all. To quote Kevin Smith, I think someone's gonna get filled out like an application. Don't worry, I'll take pictures. Which, come to think of it, really just sort of adds to the whole obscene-ness of it.

And speaking of obscene, I listened to The Nate and Di Show epsiode #77, Hell in a Handbasket on the way to work this morning. Oh my. Indeed. But good shit, very enjoyable. As Mob said, always great to listen in on people going to hell faster than myself!

So the house is going nicely, got nearly everything squared away for the wedding (hopefully)...though I did change our wedding night reservations from the Hotel Zaza to the Hotel Adolphus. I consulted first with my friend Morris, who seems to have a fairly in-depth knowledge of our downtown hotels. Not sure I want to know why that is, but it sure does sound naughty. He highly recommends it, so off we go. My reasoning was that the Zaza was going to be $350 for the night as opposed to the $129 at the Adolphus. And the latter, considering the hotel, is shockingly cheap. I mean, I know it's a special occasion, but there's splurging...and then there's crazy talk.

And I got a weird call last night around midnight I did not answer, from the head projectionist whining about how tired they were at work. Which leads me to believe it will shortly be followed up with the "Can you work tonight?" call. No. nonononononono. No. Playing with house! Go away! I plan on stomping my feet if necessary. Nah, just kidding. I'm planning on lying like any normal person.

Okay, who gave us half a roll?

I'm sure I'm the last to know on this stuff, but I was reading the newest Premiere last night and found out two new things. First of all, this may be a really awful thing, but next July 4th? Bruce Willis returns as John McClane in Live Free or Die Hard! Uh, yeah. Someone was so kidding with that title. Aaaaaaaand, looks like one of my favorite ladies, Nicole Kidman, will play the evil Mrs. Coulter in the first installment of His Dark Materials, The Golden Compass. I am still very unsure how they are going to pull that series off. *Holds breath.* And annoyingly, the version that I read was called Northern Lights. I was in Japan and it was my Australian boss's copy. Wtf? I hate it when they do shit like that. So naturally I prefer owning Northern Lights for pure nostalgia...I guess it wasn't bastardized in any other way...?

Hey, look at that, that was from this morning. Time to go home now. Oh well. Hopefully there is internet at home now anyway...

Sorry about Dean's faggotry.

Man I hate it when people sneak the crazy past you. We have a nice customer who does paintings and photography and today she had a strange reprint that looked like a mistake. And she got several of that one. I just do what I'm told. However, I happened to also be the one to hand her order over. She brought the photos out, placed them in front of me and said, "What do you see?" Fuuuuuuuuuuuck, I thought. Really, it's just this mass of white and gray out-of-focus weirdness. I cannot even reach for out-of-my-ass guesses, I'm lost. I shrug and smile and say I have no idea. "Do you see Jesus?" she asked. Ok, now, I like to think I am a master of masking my true feelings, but there has to have been a moment where the fear positively leapt from eyes. I kept the smile (no doubt looking glued at this point) and glanced down and said, "Oh! Yeeeah..." and really, sure, I could see where she was getting it. Her camera was in her passenger seat, apparently, and the shutter had gone off, taking a picture of part of the seat in the light. Which made a kind of [lame] Jesus shadow. But some of us were raised in proper pagan households and don't see Jesus in the cheese, I beg your pardon.

And better still, one of our real crazies brought in a photo for the umpteenth time. She brings it in for copies a LOT. She is taking it to Turkey next week. It is a photo of a photo of Mary. It has flash blur. This is when the flash is still going off but the camera moves. We see it a lot in weddings--low light situations. It has been explained to her, but the "double image" to her is apparently, the AURA of Mary. I. Cannot. Make. This. Shit. Up.

And on that note, time to hit Central Market for the purchase of three, count them three different kinds of pumpkin ale. Mmmm. Pummmmmmmmmmpkinnnnnn.

My name is Otto, it means eight.

Sniff, another weekend with no internet. It hurts. Oh well, Wednesday shall see the end of that.

We tore up the ceiling in the sunroom due to suspected water damage, which we did find. It sounds simple, doesn't it? And yet it took five of us. Admittedly I was mostly painting, and Robert's wife Jennifer was kinda standing there. But still. Now we have to seal the stains and kill the mold and caulk everything and reinforce a split piece of wood. Then close it back up with new particle board/plywood/whatever the hell. So that was fun.

And D has started tearing up the yard. We're going to kill all the grass in the backyard, tear it up and replace it with groundcover. I HATE the shitty grass that's back there now. Lots of sticker/burr things. Plus it's just hella ugly.

But we finished painting the bedroom, most of the kitchen and nearly all the unpacking. I'm taking my friend Mark (and more importantly, his pickup) to Denton tonight to get more stuff from my parents' house...luckily we're good enough friends I don't have to feel bad about using him for his pickup. I just fill up gas and coffee and he's happy, I'm sure. Anyhoo, getting more neat stuff for the house, including a cuckoo clock my cat really loves. Like, a lot. I just hope he doesn't try to mount it at some point. The kitten has never seen it, I'm sure the cat will teach him all kinds of bad things...

And the phone people (unfortunately, AT&T, which only makes me think of a recent The Nate and Di Show episode...) are coming out Wednesday to set up the internet and landline for our security system. Their window of arrival? Between 8am and goddamn 6pm. Hope you're planning on entertaining yourself inside your house all day. Got my right hand and a fully stocked liquor cabinet, bring it on. Ah, now if only I were the one not working that day...

Very jazzed to see not one, but TWO new episodes of Cinemaslave ready to go! I still maintain my stance on Hollywoodland being less than great, but I have to say that in retrospect, it is one of the better theatre releases as of late.

I feel the house slowly closing in on 'presentable.' I can taste it, my friend.

Ooh, and finished season 2 of House, M.D. Now that last episode? That was some good shit. The episodes are by nature a little formulaic, which is fine since they're fairly intelligent and well written, but not only did this one break formula, it was fucking creepy. I wouldn't go so far as to say it bothered me (and I'm not talking about eye scenes although this one ALSO had a huge doozy of an eye scene even I had to keep watching), but almost. The brain is such a complex delicate thing that I'm more positive than ever that most people do not operate on an "even keel," whatever that is. Anyway, damn good stuff.

And now, to surreptitiously burn Cinemaslave onto two CDs since I cannot get it onto my ipod here at work...

You get it started, and I'll run you over. That's the best plan I can think of.

Black Dahlia sucked. I can't even bother to review it because the movie itself was such a waste of time. And if I don't review something I actually like on BSL soon, I'm just going to go crazy. Scarlett Johansson was doing the worst job I've ever seen her do; it was like a Saturday Night Live performance, to be exact. Hilary Swank sucked. Josh Hartnett did...ok? Aaron Eckhart was excellent but it was nowhere near enough to make the whole thing worth my while. It plodded along and I gave it miles of room, I waited patiently, and along it went. It wasn't genuinely horrible until the last thirty minutes. It's vaguely convoluted, but I like to think an additional viewing (had it not SUCKED) would have maybe helped that along. The last leg, though, it just did me in. An utter waste of time.

And I had to break down five cunting prints, one of which was eight reels rather than the usual six. Seriously man. It made a difference. Started POS around midnight, crawled into bed around 4am only to be back up here before nine. So I ain't linking to shit today.

Actually, that's it. That's my profound blog of the day. I will watch something nostalgic and fun this weekend and then hopefully write it up Monday.

How's Duckface?

Good news and bad news. Bad news is we won't have internet til Wednesday now, but on the plus side, it won't be with Time Warner. I realize they are all evil, but I will take competent and evil over fuckwit evil any day. Since we have to get a landline anyway for the security system, it was so much cheaper to do a bundle DSL thing. So whatever. At least the satellite is still going in this weekend. But poor D has been so internet deprived!

Whee, wrote my second review on Big Suck Loser for Last Kiss. I had no idea how badly it was going to suck, I swear. Infact, I can't really get into it again or I'll just get all pissed off. And I'm such a moron I can't get the title to work, so I had to request the help of skincarver to point me in the right direction. Hopeless even with the whole cut-and-paste, really. It's sad, I know.

But speaking of how bad last night's film sucked, I am worried for tonight's. It is standard that our films at the theatre suck. Period. So you can see my concern for Black Dahlia. The Angelika Film Center is getting it, cross it off your list, people. Nah, we'll see. Fingers crossed.

Moving into a house, getting settled, stupid crap, is sooooooooo stressful! I know this is tediously obvious, but I just have no new words. Alarm permits, landlines, locksmiths, cable or satellite, blah blah blah. Fuck. And everyone has their special offers, everything has activation fees and installation fees which you know they can waive at the drop of a hat so what's the magic word...on and on it goes. Kill me, please.

VERY much looking forward to our old roommate Rob's birthday. I think I mentioned the cake I want to make. Strawberries and nude top-half barbies with little beer candles. Damn it's going to be fun. If it works I'll post pictures. Hope it tastes good, too.

I'm getting a little pissy actually because I have not worked on the house since Tuesday. Had to screen stupid POS last night and again tonight, and that's great and all but I do get to bed much later in addition to doing fuckall to the house. I have a bad feeling tomorrow night is going to see me hunkered down in front of The West Wing, not moving one inch...

When you sacrifice a goat, do you then summon hellfire?

Ok, it's Wednesday the 13th and there's a bizarre dead bird outside the photo store's door. A bright yellow parakeety thing, like someone's frickin' pet. It's weird and surely a very bad omen. Though it is a really gorgeous day out. I guess bad things can happen on gorgeous days, though. It's nowhere near as cool as Mob's dead bird, but still.

And it's always bad when you realize how poorly some of your co-workers handle stress, or rather, don't. Take our personnel manager. Some backstory will be needed, so hear me out. 41 years old, very Catholic and we're fairly certain, never actually had a girlfriend (or whatever). You would probably find this unbelievable if you worked with him for a while, as he seems normal. But in any social situation involving unfamiliar ground, a cute female, stress, pretty much anything actually, he totally shuts down. Stressful situations here at work? He flips the fuck out. It ain't pretty. He actually said one time that in the event he ever did meet a nice girl and ask her to marry him, if she said no he would probably throw things. He's not abusive by any means, but rather, insanely childish. Beyond what you might expect. So every once in a while, like today, I get a glimpse of that and then I remember that's probably why he moved back in with his parents.

Infact, he has greatly improved in the past 1-2 years. I recall back when I first started working here and it was not at all uncommon before noon for employees to ask around if anyone had talked to him yet that day. It was far smarter to see if anyone else knew if he was in a particularly sour mood, as it was fairly often the case.

If he were still like that, I honestly don't think I'd still be here. Which might be ok, too, as I'm pretty sure this isn't an actual grown-up job. But oh well.

Anyway. In the middle of a two-parter of House, M.D. toward the end of season 2. It is agonizing. I want Forman (Omar Epps) to positively rot in hell, his character is such a shit. One more disc and then I start in on the new season 3, which my family has been wonderful enough to tape for me, squee! (If you recall, we sadly have neither cable nor internet at the moment, but come Saturday, oh baby, that is going to change). We hope. We are dealing with some of the most moronic specimens our human race has to offer. I've just got my fingers crossed.

Rings tomorrow, whee!

Got much of the entry way and kitchen painted. That place is crawling with ugly-ass wallpaper, it's out of control. When I pried off a lightswitch cover, it revealed even older wallpaper under the first layer of horridness. Looked like goddamn Christmas paper...aaaaaaaand I even finished unpacking nearly all the boxes! So exciting. I am going to have one tasty ass bottle of something when I get the place presentable. I'm sure it'll never be "finished," so I think in terms of "presentable."

And in cleaning up the harddrive here at work I found I still have the wedding invite photos that Cinema Mark did on here! So for anyone who never saw them, here they are. Actually, the first is the invite, the second is just me not being able to keep a straight face. And contrary to popular belief, the photo was my idea and no, D is not forcing me to get married on Halloween. But Mark is the one who added veins to my cheek and made my eye cloudy, tinkered with the color, basically made it look far better than I ever could!

Keep your hands off the suit, buddy.

Ok, seriously. When you guys view my blog, is the sidebar all the way down at the bottom? What the fuck. I don't know if it's a template thing? Or maybe if I switch templates that would help? Have to re-do the customized crap, however dull it is, so that would kinda blow. It is annoying me in any case, though.

Work has been hella busy! Which I guess is nice, I mean, makes me worry far less about the whole place shutting down. But it does make it tricky to blog. Shah. Bastards.

Did jack-shit with the house last night. Just made very yummy dinner and kept plugging away on House, M.D. I'll spare you the episode details this time. Tonight however, is going to see lots of upacking and minimal painting. Oh yes, it shall be done. It's just that after standing around goddamn Hobby Lobby for a fucking hour, waiting for them to SUPPOSEDLY frame a poster, they came out with it trimmed and said, "Ok! Here ya go!" I said exqueese me? They said, oh, you wanted it FRAMED. That'll be a week. *shoots all employees of the Hobby Lobby* Dirty place anyway. By the time I DID get home, I was so done. And there was all this thunder, talk of a "cold front," and what the hell happened? Yup, nothing. Infact, I had to get up at 3am to close the windows because it was just that hot and muggy. Ugh.

On the plus side, I had a dream in which Sonny Crockett showed me how to ride his motorcycle. Ahem. Who the hell knows. So what if he had a Ferrari and not a motorcycle? And that I would prefer the Ferrari?

Anyhoo. Well, looks like if I play my cards right (really, just if I luck way the fuck out), I will get to screen both Black Dahlia AND Last Kiss tomorrow night. I laughed to see Mia Kirshner in Black Dahlia. D and I know her from The L Word and simply refer to her character as 'Mouse Stain,' because well, she is one. What an annoying-ass character. The show itself is pretty crap, but we really love hating her. Anyway, totally pumped for Black Dahlia (written by James Ellroy, of L.A. Confidential, *droooools*), and kinda eager to be irritated by Last Kiss. Can't help myself.

D closes tonight, so hopefully I'll get tons of crap done and won't find myself wandering out to the spa. I haven't had time with spa in like, three days! I decided I should name the spa Steve. Not just Steve, Steeeeeeeeeeeeeeeve. Like an I Saw What You Did kind of Steve. D doesn't have to know...

Oh, and the wedding rings should be here tomorrow! Very excited. I had them sent here to work to be safe, plus they're FedEx and I don't want to have to chase them down since no one's ever home. Seven weeks. Yikes. Even New Zealand Derek is almost here, just a couple more weeks. Bastard asked me to look into one-way airfare to Cancun for him. Wtf? I'm mixed with jealously and curiosity...does he plan on coming back from Mexico? But still, so excited to see him and everyone else.

Just gotta get that marriage license thingy, whatever!

My first boy-girl thing was with a poster of you!

Fairly uneventful weekend, which is nice. Been cramming season 2 of House, M.D. down like chocolate crack. Yum. Tickled to see Adam Busch (ew, that site makes me feel gross) pop in for a role. Saw a band a few years back open for They Might Be Giants, called Common Rotation. Really liked them. It was near the end of their set when Alex headbutted me and said, "You dumbass, that's Warren from Buffy!" Actually, she was much nicer. I hadn't recognized this dude, who is perhaps the most infamous baddie on Buffy.

Even better, we couldn't recall his character name at the time (ironically, I thought it was Adam), so we made D go ask his tableful of peons. Seriously. He must love me *a lot*; I can't imagine a more humiliating social faux pax. But great band, I enjoy them very much. He popped up in season 2 of House trying to convince Dr. House that he loved cows. Like, a lot. So much so that he was afraid he was going to love the cows. It had a funny ending.

Then, two episodes later, Michelle Trachtenberg (aka annoying Dawn), ALSO from Buffy popped in for a 'sode. Only she was the main sick person, not a sidestory. And I simply can't go into it without ruining it, but at the very end we discover what's wrong with her...and boy is it unfortunate. But not depressing. Just...yeah.

Ok well, nearly time to go home. This has got to be one of my most fascinating blogs yet...Internet this weekend! Woooooooohoooooooooooo!

Driving with a load not properly tied down?

Sweet! I finally posted my first little review over at Big Suck Loser. Finally! And sadly, it's for Hollywoodland, which pretty much let me down bigtime. Just plodded along and did a crappy job telling the story. But if you follow the link you can read all about it. But yeah, the Afflecktion did kinda kick ass.

And yesterday late afternoon Blogger started giving me shit about my cookies, so I had to leave without linking to the rest of my crappy pictures.






Quite possibly the world's shittiest sink. I mean, what the fuck is it made of? And could the garbage disposal side be any smaller?? But then there is the kitchen, which is grand and lovely. The fridge even has a beverage compartment in the door for my wine! And there is the living room (note Gladys, Vel and Alex!), which is still getting worked on, see the crap everywhere? The double doors lead out to the sunroom which houses, lastly the spa! Whee!

Ok, much later in the day...fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck. D's car has been kinda sputtering and puttering and he finally took it in. I'm trying to keep in mind that the car hasn't been worked on in years, really, so this may just be the sum total of work it's needed for awhile. But fifteen hundred goddamn dollars?!? Once you own the car, nearly everything is worth not buying a new one. Almost. But the radiator is cracked, the fuel line is bad, all kinds of shit giving him bad gas mileage and all kinds of problems. Here's where I piss and moan that I wish I knew anything about cars. But I don't. So time to bend over and well, you get the idea.

So then we find out Time Warner is going to give us internet next Saturday and instead of the $5 transfer fee or whatever the Christ they charge, it's now a new set-up fee of $25. D argued with them but had to get off the phone and decided he would call them later. I called instead. And while I did speak with a fairly brainless specimen, she did at least try. And Time Warner is just waiving the fee altogether. I wish I could just have decent customer service, rather than shitty customer service where I find myself forced to be shitty right back in order to get what I should have gotten in the first place. Working in customer service has only taught me that in America, if you bitch long enough and at the right person (and no, you don't have to be an asshole while you bitch, it's a delicate balance), you will get what you want. I hate everything ever, all due to Time Warner and those cunting locksmiths.

Almost two and time to start start drinking.

Niiiiiiiiiice. Topper for the day? My local forensics dude just had me sign out for three rolls. They only have me sign for it when it's actually evidence. And it's only evidence when it's of something illegal, yes, kiddie porn. Bring it on. I've been getting a little less nervous about these rolls in the past, as it is never kiddie porn. Today, however, is just the sort of day that it will be.

Whew. It's not. But one of my printer racks has snapped and I've had to rig it and it's barely working. So at least the day got me anyhow.

I'm not going to meet someone like Diane Court at a kegger.

Ok, every time I upload pics here, instead of being all aligned on the left, they show up jumbled. So what-the-fuck-ever. But here are the UGLY light covers I could not take down fast enough, followed by the tiles that surrounded the spa AND filled the entry way of the house. See? Sbarro pizza all around. And one ugly christing wreath they left behind. I would, too. Next, we have one of the spare rooms, probably mostly mine as you can tell by all the books. After the paint, we just sort of refer to it as "the shire." There's Bourdain, hanging out and being far more at ease than in the past few days...and my precious, the black jet tub. Don't think I'd go for black in the future, kinda weird. But damn is it one nice tub...

You know, some of you guys have some cute little asses. It'd be a real shame if I had to blow'em off.

Well balls. I was GOING to review Death Race 2000 for BSL but then my Netflix copy seized up both in the middle and at the end. I just had to re-order it. It was RIGHT during the Frankenstein/navigator seduction scene, just as her towel slipped off. Stupid Netfux. And it was a chunk, too. We may have been the first people to ever find ourselves confused by Death Race 2000. But liking it bunches so far. The death scenes are GREAT. The blood has quite the Argento look to it. And the hospital scene (wheeling out the elderly) was priceless. If only the disc had worked. More on this when I actually fucking finish it.

I seem to have gotten talked into working at the theatre tonight. Thursday nights blow, as they are all trailer change-outs and screenings. The shit we get usually sucks, so I end up screening the latest Strand production. (LOTS of manlove and poor production values). However, now that I'm the go-to for help on Thursday night rather than the regular, I get to screen what *I* want. I like this. Tonight, I get to screen Hollywoodland. Now, it's Diane Lane so it's fairly safe to say I would get to screen this anyway. (The other projectionists are well aware of my love for the Lane. See, unlike Cinemaslave Joe, I will totally watch a film just for the acting or more specifically, for certain actors. Not many, mind you. But I think Alex can totally back me up here, as we've probably seen the entire lifeworks of Gary Oldman (well, maybe not so much lately). From Meantime on down to Criminal Law. Some real shit. That man owes us several dinners. And it should be noted that when I do watch a film specifically for an actor, I don't necessarily expect the film itself to be good. Which is why you had better be a damn good actor). Anyhoo. I'm looking forward to Hollywoodland in a low-expectations kinda way. Strangely, I've heard from both the head projectionist and others that (prepare yourself) Ben Affleck is one of the best things about this film. I'm sure Ms. Lane and Adrien Brody do their usual great stuff, but apparently, the Afflecktion not only doesn't suck, he really pulls one out. I'll keep you posted.

Then next week I get to screen The Last Kiss, a fairly mainstream film we have no business getting and will surely get our asses kicked, Zach Braff or no. We're only getting it because our marketing director had a girly hard-on for it. Whatever, I'll screen the hell out of it, no problem. I'm actually kinda curious about it. And I'm not a Garden State freak in the slightest. Oddly enough, quite a bit about that film irritates me (mostly Natalie Portman's "quirkiness", e.g., the whole "make a crazy noise and be SO original!!" bullshit, plus the fucking screaming-over-the-cliff-moment GAAAGG!!! The Paul Simon song was the sole thing preventing me from disemboweling myself in lieu of continued viewing...oh and the goddamn ending. That reeked of shit), but anyway. All that shit bugs me, but then I'm oddly drawn to the rest. Weird. Anyway, this isn't even a Zach Braff-helmed picture, but rather Tony Goldwyn. It actually sounds a little bit like crap that will surely annoy me. But I'm curious. And therein lies my problem.

I should mention that I've consumed far more caffeinated beverages than usual today, and therefore this could be even more discombobulated than average. I drank tea all the way from Arlington and then unexpectedly had to pick up Cinema Mark from the auto shop; any time Mark is involved, so is Starbucks. So I had an Americano. And now I'm insane. At least on the drive up I had an episode of Nate and Di to entertain me. It was an episode in which they re-visited the ruins of the old drive-in they used to manage. I found it quite shocking that they had to live there and use their paycheck money to buy shit for the theatre--like concessions and shit! Not sure I could have done it...and paychecks of $125 a week, for both of them, and only received when begged for. Jesus! Impressive to say the least...

I think the next film trilogy I Netflix is either going to be Bond or Woody Allen (the latter to D's chagrin). Thinking Goldfinger, From Russia With Love, License to Kill, and On Her Majesty's Secret Service. So by "trilogy" I mean foursome. To get a rounder impression. I think Woody Allen, it'll be Sleeper, Play It Again, Sam, and Interiors. But first I gotta wrap up my TV shows to some extent. We're in the middle of the second season of Lost, Desperate Housewives (shut up), West Wing (well, season 4 there, and just me on that one), and House, M.D.. But then after that.

On a totally different track, we met with Reverend Roshaven yesterday, who is going to be marrying us. Having set foot inside a church perhaps four times in my life (not counting sightseeing in the UK), I was a little nervous. He is a Unitarian, at least, so that took nearly all the pressure off. He didn't even ask us about our religious orientation! D was fairly opposed to the whole Unitarian thing originally, as he is Lutheran, but I think when he realized finding the master of ceremonies would become the task of whomever won that one, he kinda let up. Honestly, I think he's just relieved I didn't insist on being married by the Justice of the Peace. So anyway, this guy is very nice (for three hundred christing smackers, he'd better be!) and basically gave us a ceremony menu, from which we can choose the different parts of what ends up being said. Looks like the whole thing should take about twelve minutes. (Which makes him more expensive than most hookers, if you ask me. But in this case, shorter is sweeter).

Ok, I think that's enough blathering to make up for yesterday.

Excuse me, Johnny, I've got to hang up. We're expecting a call from you any minute.

Ok, I bring you Johnny Two-Lips. I actually had less time to dick around today, so this is my contribution to my blog, as I'm about to leave work. Isn't he just the ugliest fucker? And there he is, hard at work in that wide shot. Just beyond him is the spa I got up and running last night. It glows dark blue at night, hee hee.

Ruprecht, do you want the genital cuff?

Ok, so there is no longer internet at the house. If you find the following to be confusing, please seek a job at Time Warner Cable:

We live at the new address on Mahonia; the old account is on Arapaho.
The previous residents at Mahonia have asked their account be terminated on September 14.
We live at Mahonia. They are gone.
May we please have internet?

Again, if I lost you there, please seek a job with Time Warner. An annoying future awaits you and your customers. Actually, making it even stupider...the account is commerical, not residential, so apparently a whole other side of TWC has to get involved. I don't know WHY this is so complicated, but it is. Holy jesus is it ever.

And the modem WAS working, but from what I gather from Moron #4 is, basically: everything was hunky dory until the modem or whatever it sends its signal to, sat up in bed one day and went, "Holy shit! Who are you??" and then leapt out of bed and out the door. But for three, nearly four days, it had no idea. What a slut.

So it may be a while before D or I update BSL (I swear I AM going to actually start blogging on it, I do) or D can even update his blog.

I did get a lot done yesterday, I finally figured out how to drain the spa. They have the spa right next to a window, so you would think you could just connect the hose and drain it into the sink. Apparently gravity is not that interested in helping out. So the sink was out. But I did manage to drain it and I'm sure it's nothing the EPA needs to know about. Now that whole room just needs re-doing, including curtains (apparently we bought the house from exhibitionists).

I like my smooth-top range. It's neat.

Mouchette loves the sunroom and entry way, I was finally brave enough to let him out. (Although I did make sure all the screen doors were locked, cause he might just reach up and open one). You could tell Bourdain really want a piece of the action, or to at least look cool, but he is really not into the outdoors. Which is great with me. Stay inside. Love the indoors. Outside bad.

And it has been raining and raining and raining today! So nice. Yesterday never even broke 80F. Siiiiiiiiiiiiigh. Please stay this way.

Thanks to Mob over at Dear Bastards, I've been listening to The Nate and Di Show, which is damn funny. I downloaded a few at random, and the very first one happened to be the infamous mall parking lot episode. Apparently I need to listen to the one involving morning glory seeds...

Ok, back to work. And back to offering up sacrifice in the hopes of improving the brain power of the shit squishing collective fuckwits over at Time Waner Cable.

Rex cries when he ejaculates!

I did not take a picture of Johnny Two-Lips. I was tiiiiiiiired. I had to hit the apartment before going home for the plants (which were not dead, although our very last pirate fish (he had his eye eaten out by other fish, which is how we obtained three "pirate fish"), Tail-Chasing Tom, died over the weekend just before moving out. I was not surprised, he had to be on his last legs), and get some bits out of the fridge (ok, my chipotle sauce for my fried pickles). The power was still on, so who the fuck knows what goes on in that crazy little world known as Green Mountain.

And by the time I hit the highway, I discovered to my ignorant chagrin that there was a fucking homegame for the Cowboys. I cannot stand American football and now I have to pass by Texas Stadium to get home. Curse fucking American football and especially the goddamn Cowboys. It was so depressing to see not only how many people were desperately trying to get there in time, but how many thousands of cars were already there. I do not thank my lucky little stars enough that D is not a sports fan.

Got home and had to explore the grocery store. VERY excited that Arlington at least sells beer and wine. Have to go to Fort Worth for liquor, but that's hardly as pressing as my wine and beer needs. Not only does Kroger have great selection and oh nelly, I love me some Arlington beer prices, but Kroger is even cheaper than standard Arlington beer prices. Kirin Ichiban 6-pack, $5.99. Yeah, baby.

Finally home. Disgruntled to realize that I have also already seen disc 2, season 2 of House, M.D. and I apparently just need to get online to figure out where the fuck I WAS when I stopped watching. On the plus side, however, there is a special feature on disc 2 in which Dr. Cameron and Dr. Cutty re-shot a scene Valley Girl style. It was great; one moment in particular made me laugh out loud.

And I must, must remember that season 3 starts next Tuesday. The previous residents' cable, which they seem to refuse to cut off, had better fucking include (I can't believe I'm about to say this) Fox. I hate Fox. I'm shocked they didn't cancel House, M.D. and I kinda hate that I must watch their crappy little channel.

As we ramble on directionlessly, my other show, Studio 60 On the Sunset Strip, airs tonight (I'm guessing due to the holiday), and while I've already seen the pilot via Netflix, I do plan on tuning in on regular basis Monday nights at 10pm. Conveniently, the show D wants to watch, Heroes, is on just before. It actually sounds intriguing, I admit. I also feel a bit like I need a bath. Having been an anti-TV snob for so long, a tiny piece of me seems to have died and/or been yuppified upon the purchase of a home.

Mondays--Heroes, 9pm (premieres Sept 25)
Studio 60, 10pm (premieres Sept 18)
Tuesdays--House, M.D. (same bat time, same bat channel, sept 5)
Wednesdays--Lost, 9pm (Oct 4!! Plenty of time for me to cram in season 2 on DVD)

Jesus Christ, ER is seriously still on? Season 13! Balls. I gave up on it (season 6? 7? cough, cough) when I left Japan. What happens in Tokyo, stays in Tokyo. But then look, The Simpsons are starting up season 18 and 60 Minutes is on season 39. So hey. Oooh, and Desperate Housewives is only on season 3? I could conceivably cram in season 2, but it's such shit. Not sure I could make the effort to tune in weekly. It does much better when I can pack it all in marathon-style. Otherwise it occurs to me what shit it is. Had this problem last night as we hunkered down with disc 1 of season 2. Been so long since season 1, I'm quite aware of how shit it is. But I can already feel it sucking brain power, my senses are numbing (though I still loathe the Teri Hatcher character and want her dead), and I'm sinking into the bog once again.

We seem to be getting back into our normal morning routine: I wake up and Bourdain follows me around and as soon as the shower's off he hops in and laps up as much water as he can (including from the tap). He even wags his tail. Mouchette can be found by the best window, contemplating whatever it is cats contemplate. I realized this this morning, as I wondered where Mouche might be. Where is the best window in the house?, I asked myself. Oh, the bay window at the kitchen sink. I knew it would be a future issue the first time I looked at the house. Needless to say, kitchen counters really aren't kitty places, but it is a nice window. Hard to blame him. Sure enough, there he was. I think Mr. Mouche and I are going to have to find another window for him.

The other morning I told my boss I thought it was officially the start of autumn. It was 68F when I left the house in the morning and upon entering Starbucks, they have once again unleashed the pumpkin spice latte. I treated myself. It's no gingerbread latte, but it'll do. Later that day, he tells me now, he was coaching volleyball and one of the other coaches came up to him and said, "I think it's autumn! Starbucks has the pumpkin spice latte!" I found it terribly funny and a little embarrassing on my part. That's Dallas for you. How the hell else are we going to know.

On the dark side of the pumkinness, however, I purchased their pumpkin cream cheese muffin this morning. Sounds good, looks good...but upon smelling it, I realized I had made this same terrible mistake last year. I bit into it, just for fun, and sure enough...it's still shit. How do you screw that up? It's really nasty, though; I even had to spit out my bite. Avoid at all costs.