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.

Why don't you tell everyone I said to go fuck themselves for making my teen years a living hell?

First of all, I'm a moron. You know what a spa is? It's a MAJOR APPLIANCE. You know what major appliances are? Covered under the damn warranty!! Thanks go out to my magical mother for pointing that out to me, the clueless daughter. And another million thanks to Sam Moreno, of Century 21, for taking care of the whole damn thing. The check is in the mail. Even after my dumb ass went about fixing the spa in the most back-assward way possible. But I didn't want the pipes to freeze! Oh well, it all worked out because luckily, everyone else knows what they're doing.

My job is merely to consume alcohol and watch the new Bond. Soon. Hours away. I plan on also eating either fried pickles or cheese. Might need cheese for Bond.

And I keep forgetting to mention that I finally saw 2001: A Space Odyssey. Obviously, I liked it. I won't pretend that I got it, but it's a start. I have only a vague idea of what I think was meant, and I'm probably wrong. It will need another viewing. Not necessarily anytime soon, I wasn't crazy about it. But I certainly enjoyed and appreciated it. Anything that kinda leaves me behind a little is usually worth another look. Except Jesus Christ Vampire Killer. That left me behind, but in a whole other way. And it was the Kubrick marathon over on Cinemaslave that finally made me feel embarrassed enough that I had to watch it. And I was just thinking that there aren't any films left on the Shame List Not Viewed. But honestly, I don't think I've seen Spinal Tap all the way through and I know I haven't seen most of Blazing Saddles. As far as the classics go. So I'll work on it.

In the meantime, there's season 6 of CSI: Vegas just out and I gotta catch up on my West Wing. So there. Priorities for you. Luckily I'm off this weekend. I'll try to watch an actual movie and maybe, like, review it.

It's over there, between the land and the sky.

Brett, D, Mob & Rob



Triana & the Eye Cake



People, like, eating. Triana, me, Veloute, Alex & Canadian Nell



Us, doing wedding-like things. Note the little thief.

It was so good I almost peed my pants!

Ohmyohmyohmy. I don't care what happens the rest of the day, my day is already complete. I handed in my soul when I did it, but I now own the new Sarah McLachlan CD I didn't even know about. I no longer have a soul because I was standing in Starbucks when it happened. Yes, I am a corporate whore who bought a goddamn CD at Starbucks and you can all bite me. I would never buy a CD from Starbucks. Never! I feel gross enough buying coffee. But I have a weakness for Christmas stuff (good Christmas stuff, that I like, it's a small category, you must understand) and I have a special weakness for Sarah. How could I have been expected not to buckle like a little bitch? I was so fucking happy I practically squealed when I got back in the car. I had to use my earring to get the cellophane off, but I got there.

And when I bought it, I slid it over to the cashier and said, "And don't tell anyone, but ring this up, too."

C: "Oh my god, I didn't even know she had a new one out!"

EA: "I know!"

C: "And it's a Christmas album. I love her."

EA: "If anyone should have done a Christmas album..."

C: "Yeah."

EA: "Hell yeah."

And she gave me the big "hell yeah" nod. It was a bonding moment.

And then, even better, as I flipped to the back (cause let's face it, she could be singing the contents of the back of a cereal box and I'd buy it) and my obscure little xmas song River is on there. I nearly peed myself. Alex will totally roll her eyes but the only other way I've heard that song is the version of Robert Downey, Jr. doing his best Bruce when he did his little stint on (shudder) Ally McBeal. And before anyone of you makes even the slightest snigger about what the hell I was doing watching Ally McBeal, I say that first you must live in a country where they do not speak English and see what you start finding acceptable as TV viewing. Anyway, the song is a real downer. I like it alot.

See? So no matter how shitty today is, I have my Sarah and I have a TOASTY-ASS spa waiting at home. And rummy eggnog. Hard to beat. Ok, back to work.

All that thought and energy put into Saturday morning cartoons. I think it's depressing.

Aw. Yup, there we are! The whole wedding was a lot of fun; I don't there's a single thing I would have done differently. The only part that sucked was that it took a while before I felt like really eating. So we had all this amazing cake and boar and I had a couple bites of cake, half a sandwich and quite a few things to drink. The craziness helped make the alcohol in my system feel non-existent, or at least kept me on an even keel. The funny/lame thing is that when we got to the hotel and settled in just in time to catch the last of Hugh Laurie on SNL (the last half-hour, no less, ugh. But of the few people watch on the dregs of SNL and still be entertained, Hugh Laurie is definitely one of them), I was like, hey, I'm kinda hungry. And then South Park came on, just for us!

LOVED the Adolphus; I was so paranoid the bill in the morning would be for about four times as much as I'd expected. But it's still not a room-service kinda place. They have it, don't get me wrong. But I think our ham sandwich was about ten bucks. Breakfast in the morning would have been close to thirty for both of us. Nixed that. And they misunderstood our order; instead of getting two sandwiches, they sent us one with two plates. It was kinda cute; especially since I wasn't ravenous, merely peckish, it worked out beautifully.

I need to go back to that hotel, though, and really savor the whole place. We kinda crashed. AND it's right on Akard, which is the home to another little divine place, known as Dakota's Steakhouse. As expensive a night as that would be, I totally fantasize about one day gorging on truffle-butter-saucing it up on some steak and then just walking back to the Adolphus. When I get a real grown-up job...one day.

Oh! And SPASPASPASPASPA! I am soooooooooooooo happyhappyhappy. Spa is fixed. It wasn't cheap, but it wasn't the heater, either. It was the circulation pump. I'm playing with the chemistry now to have him up and running. He's warm but not quite warm enough for me to climb in, especially since it's going to be 39F tonight. But I am So. Fucking. Happy. Though I am also realizing that having a spa in the sunroom is like having a little car in the sunroom. Nothing that goes wrong is cheap. Actually, the car is more likely to be a cheap fix. Yikes. And brand new? Those bastards are HELLA expensive! They're LIKE small cars!

And Mouche continues to wear his E collar. I took it off briefly last night so he could have wet food as a treat. He tried so hard to scarf it down with the collar on, ended up getting food on the rim and then backing up while looking at the food on his collar and nearly pissing himself in frustration. And that was all in a two-second timespan. I took it off. Then we put it back on, clipped his claws and gave him his meds. He pouted the rest of the night. His eye is looking LOADS better, though. It's amazing how much faster it heals when he can't screw with it. I think maybe 2-3 days more. I know he's miserable but I don't want to take it off too early and have it all be for nothing.

Ok, time to go play with my spa some more.



And the glorious cake. The icing had had a run-in with some little paws or something, but Mark fixed it in Photoshop and now it's as if nothing ever happened. YUM. I think I may go eat some right now, actually!

If hate were people, I'd be China!

Ok, so I didn't hate Borat. It did make me laugh, and it wasn't offensive (well, not mean-offensive), but...I don't know. At some point when everyone and everything is being mocked...everyone was pretty much painted as ignorant (or in Borat's case, merely naive), and I actually found it more depressing overall than anything. The weatherman scene was cute and yes, the hotel scene was a bit OTT and juvenile (but several scenes rode the juvenile line anyway...bringing shit to the table?), but for the most part I didn't have a problem with it. I just don't need to see it again. I was also told the more I thought about the movie the more I'd probably appreciate it. Nope! Can't say there was much there for me to mull over.

And now I can say that I've seen it and be done with it.

And there is Bond to look forward to.

On a less happy note for the cat Mouche, we finally had to put him in an E collar to keep him from scratching the ringworm (if that's even what it is, don't get me started) above his eye. To say he is grossly unhappy is a major understatement. I probably got three hours of sleep last night because I had to hold him, and whenever he woke up and got frustrated or freaked out he started digging at me with his paws or nipping my face. He was very happy to be held and petted all night (and he's usually not like that; he'll sleep with us but he's not keen on being held the whole damn time). He's better now (though he does still run into everything), but he keeps trying to slink as low to the ground as possible, which of course he can't do without the collar hitting the ground. Once in a while it's a little funny, but mostly it's pathetic as hell.

I was hoping that when I got up to go to work he'd bug D, but no, he tried to follow me around and when he wasn't doing that he just lay on the bed with his awkward little head hanging over the edge.

Spa repair is coming tomorrow. I thought I'd practice grabbing my ankles tonight, you know, to warm up. I hear they're bringing their pet elephant.

So that's how it is in their family...

Damn you, Cinemaslave Joe! It may have been my big mouth, but it's your fault I now have to see that stupid Borat movie. Everyone, I mean ev-ah-ry-one, has been telling me "how much you'll like this movie!" My friend J emailed me from his laptop while he was watching it, (I assume he was working, not just in some random theatre, he's not that socially inept), to tell me he thought I'd find it funny. I completely trust J when it comes to the dramas, but the comedies? Not so much. I can usually forgive bad recommendation, except when one of them is Bubble Boy. That's just a lifetime in the penalty box right there.

Our friend Lonnie wasn't too sure what to think, but did find it funny, as did his girlfriend. Mob also enjoyed it (though I assume his tastes fall in-line with D's, certainly not a bad thing but D and I do have our different tastes). And with each friend who decides to see it, comes the invite and then the annoying persuading. I'm almost so sick of saying, "It's not that I think I'd be offended, I just think I'd be bored stupid," or "I don't think it's my kind of humor," or the classic that almost became my goddamn motto, "I. Have. No. Desire."

So finally, for fuck's sake, I told D (also hugely guilty of trying to break me on the matter) that if Joe liked it, I'd fucking see it.

And Joe, it would seem, found it hysterical. So now I have to see it. And really, I'm not going in expecting to hate it (as D suspected), otherwise I wouldn't bother. I really don't know what to expect. I'm just going in with (very) low expectations and an open mind. That should be happening tonight, so we'll see. It just seems to me that I seldom find mainstream humor funny. And every time D thinks he knows what my kind of humor is, he remembers that I like Airplane! and it throws him off again. That one may be mostly nostalgia, though I can't say for sure.

Though on one last Borat note, everyone does seem to be in agreement that the wrestling scene is a bit too much. As J put it, "Too much taint for my taste."

As far as the weekend went, I think I need to stop touching anything that costs more than $50. Not only is my spa still not heating, the CD player died as well last night. God. Damn. I mean, I have had that CD player since I was about 16, but come on. Now? Now, you little shit? Fine, whatever.

On the plus side, tried out my new electric fondue pot from Emily & Michael and it works really well. I made a cheese fondue (I even used mushrooms! look at me!) with some Gruyere (could cheese be more expensive, by the way?) and shrimp. Damn. It was mighty fine. And I'm hoping to dabble in the shabu-shabu here pretty soon but I need to make some stocks first. Chicken, beef and maybe a seafood one. And I also really want to try oysters. I have no reason whatsoever to think I'd like them, and I'm really kind of afraid to eat them in Dallas, but if I buy them from Central Market and prepare them myself...maybe?

As for the rest of the weekend, it officially seems to be that time of year when you cannot go shopping on the weekend. I went to Target and the grocery store, one each day, and I nearly killed myself or others. At the grocery store it was just the sheer mass of people, whereas at Target there were just way too many annoying bastards. I was sort of wandering through the shoe department when I heard a woman positively ripping her daughter a new one. She was going on and on about, "When we get home I'm throwing your shoes away and you can just wear the ones I bought you. It's always something like this, it's always something with you, yes it is!" and I should mention the daughter was around six. After they moved away from me, a totally different woman came up to me and said, "Did you just hear that woman call her daughter neurotic?"

Please just don't talk to me.

I said something along the lines of I felt bad for the daughter. She went on, "That poor girl is going to end up in therapy. Or worse yet, my class!" I did find that pretty funny, actually.

Well, I'll let everyone know how the Borat goes. If it ever starts to hurt, I'll just close my eyes and drool over this Friday's upcoming hot Bond release.

I feel like I'm running a small nursery with someone I used to date.

Ok, back to Austin.

After watching the steaming turd that was Tideland, we all went over to The Elephant Room, over by Congress and 5th, under the street. I love this place; it's a dark little jazz bar. But because there were so many of us, we had to use the large table in the back and subsequently I neither saw nor heard too much of the band onstage. But it was still lots of fun and I can go to the Elephant Room any old time (well, almost). It was here that Canadian Nell brought along Washington, D.C. Matt, with whom she'd hooked up with the previous night. Other than peppering his speech with British-isms, he was quite a nice fellow. We also met Lonnie's girlfriend Erica, and they seemed incredibly well suited.

Went home shortly thereafter, I'm getting old.

Now we're both pretty sure Tuesday was our favorite day. It's exactly the sort of day you should have on vacation (which is why I think "vacations" to new places are actually usually a little stressful). Up early to hit Mt. Bonnell. We walked around the area, ogling not just the houses down by the river but the entire surrounding neighborhood. It's all very drool-worthy. And it was a gorgeous day. We piddled around, driving across the 360 bridge near mine and Emily's old picnic spot and came upon my personal favorite BBQ place, The County Line. Everyone and their dog will swear up and down to you that there is no better BBQ in the entire world than what The Salt Lick has to offer. It's great, don't get me wrong, but I've only been once. I seem to have a soft spot for this place on 2222. We walked in a little after they opened at 11:30, greeted by a staff fully costumed (much to the hostess's chagrin, as she muttered and mumbled about not being able to breathe under her mummy costume).

Five minutes later we had a "bucket 'o beer." Again, it wasn't even noon but this is honeymoon time, which is like international travel and therefore does not count. The food was just as damn good as I remember. This place is a waterfront property, so we took the rest of our bucket out to the deck after lunch and polished off the remainder while watching the fattest duck I've ever seen and a little turtle family. Seriously. Best afternoon ever.

Did a little more shopping and hit the motel for a brief nap. Since Tuesday was Halloween, we planned on hitting Sixth Street in the evening, but first...dinner. We met up with my friend Don at Eastside Cafe, a place no one seems to know about! But damn is it fine. Emily and I secretly go just for the buttermilk pie, but the food itself is also quite yummy (a tad on the pricey side for what it is, but eh, who's keeping track?). And because I am always insanely early when I meet people, we had a little time to kill across the street at Clementine, polishing off a couple beers first.

I should mention that my guzzling beers may also have been related to the fact that Don is an ex (weeeeell, not really, I mean, three months? Does it count? And we've been friends for five years, so...and of course D knows all this). But the best part is that unbeknownst to me, D had switched "Drew" and "Don" in his head and therefore thought this guy was my gay Tokyo roommate. And Don really does have the misfortune of always being mistaken for gay; he's even frequently hit upon by other gay men. But I can only imagine the momentary awkwardness when D, as I was off in the bathroom, asks Don, "So, how did you and EllenAim meet?" Now, we did meet through work, so it's really not a big deal, but still. Had our places been switched I probably would have been momentarily unsure of myself...but it's funny to me in any case, so moving on...

Dinner was divine and then we all headed over downtown, pretty scary for Halloween. Went to a place called The Side Bar, had a couple beers and promptly tired the hell out. D and I retired at a fairly decent hour after making our way back to the car (no easy feat with no sense of direction, and let's all forget just for this story that I used to live there). I like to think our early rising hour had more to do with my lameness than just old age, so that's how it shall be told.

And since it is now the next day I'll finish the final leg of the Austin honeymoon next time. Or rather, later today.

She's got an awfully large chest to be going to church.

Ok, so being married and having nothing huge and stressful looming over me doesn't seem to improve my blogging score. I still suck.

Aaaaaaaand I have nothing much to really go on about.

We're working out the kinks in the TiVo.
My spa won't heat.
If my job doesn't have a kick-ass Christmas I think all our jobs or at least our decent hours/wages may be at stake.
The dork room is slowly coming along.

There, you're updated. Ok, I used to be a straight-A student, let's see if I can do a little bullshit-fleshing-out.

First of all, LOVE LOVE LOVE the TiVo. But we call it Patrick because we're not really sure why Mr. Bateman tapes the things he does unless he's just being selfish. But OH. MY. GOD. I can watch Bill Maher and Anthony Bourdain whenever the hell I want. I've died and gone to heaven. HBO is free for three months, so I've got to find a couple things to entice D to keep it. Bill Maher is really not his cup of tea. TiVo is the coolest thing ever. Fast-forward the ads, tape any damn thing I want and maybe just delete it on a whim...it's completely at my (our) mercy. Now if only it would stop taping Disney cartoons and Oprah. I can guess the math on the first one, but come on, Oprah?

Yeah, my spa won't heat. My dumb ass emptied the secondary valve in addition to the main valve this last time when I was dumping the old water and therefore have invited air pockets into my spa's little world. You only do this when "winterizing" your spa (or "summerizing" in my case...the fuck would anyone use a spa for in the summer?) so it does come up, but I cannot seem to resolve my issues. I blew out the air pockets with the hose but still to no avail. My local spa man has been very helpful on the phone and may swing by to check it out. As long as the heater isn't kaput, as they no longer make them for this model and a whole new heating system would run $400-500. Fingers crossed, people. It's my fault. I said, "I'm going to Japan!" out loud and kharma heard me and is now forcing me down on my knees before it. Screw the spa, Japan is better.

I'm so not talking about work. It's not that I have anything but moderate ambivalence for the job, I just don't care to waste my time writing about that job. I remind myself again and again, however, that however little I may do, I do have the good fortune of really liking the three people I mostly interact with. Most of you met two of them at the wedding. The dude with the camera was Cinema Mark (who looks Hispanic but is infact half Japanese) and the woman wearing pearls dressed as a WASP with the Cinderella daughter (and husband with a keg of pumpkin beer wearing a large white dress) was Donna, my co-lab-conspirator. I take the fabulous co-workers thing for granted each and every day. Donna is nearly exactly like myself in opinions and is so wonderful to have around for banter (she also has a extensive knowledge of things I'm trying to slowly relate to, like healthy food). And I must be rubbing off a little because when I first started working there she absolutely never swore...now she's nearly as bad as myself.

D put up a few things in the dork room, it's looking far better than before. We even snagged a really cool Serenity poster in Austin from my longtime poster dealer. He said he'd only recently acquired them, so it's pretty damn cool. Even if River is the largest character on it. Groan.

And speaking of Serenity, vaguely...ok, it just reminds me because Nathan Fillion is in Adrienne Shelly's new movie. My friend J and I were following this story last week and this because he was a really big fan, especially after meeting her and bonding over a favorite writer. I know her from being a (previously) big Hal Hartley fan. (Seriously, in the past few years, so over it. Except for Amateur, still probably in my top ten.) Anyhoo, last week it was reported that she'd apparently committed suicide (from hanging by a bedsheet in the bathtub) and now it has come out that she was infact murdered. She was complaining of noise from the apartment being renovated downstairs and one of the constructions workers followed her back upstairs and they got into it. Alex sent me a great New York Times article about the details. I had a hard time understanding how he got from punching her to suddenly using a bedsheet to hang her in the bathtub in a really shady-looking (but he nearly got away with it!) suicide. And of course, she was just unconscious (unbeknownst to him) and it was infact the hanging that killed her.

Ok, back to less heavy things.

I bet I can use the TiVo to tape naughty things too!

If only they were any good...

Wait, I can do better! First Britney and K-Fed, now Witherspoon and Phillippe?? Ok, sorry, can't even pretend to give a rat fart. Never got over Ken and Emma, so as if I could take those morons seriously...

And thank you very much, maybe my getting up at the ass-crack of dawn and voting the other day didn't mean SHIT here in Texas, but by god, I will so take pleasure in the fact we finally have both the Senate and House back. I sort of rubbed it in to my realtor Sam the other day (one of our gay Republican friends, yes, he really does exist), as I told him to tell his husband Lee how sorry I was about the House (Senate was not official at the time), and even he totally admitted he wasn't surprised. Wow.

My wine glass is empty. And this has probably been a long enough break from writing wedding thank-yous. And I WILL finish the Austin story. I just like long pauses.

I gotta wake my ass up at 6am every day this week.

Very nice weekend at home with the husband, almost never left the house. Had a couple fires, glasses of wine starting anywhere between noon and two in the afternoon, and finally wiped out my Netflix selections gathering dust. Oh, and we shaved D's head. He's been wanting to do it for ages, as his hair continues to flee (he feels) more and more rapidly. I always said he had to wait til after the wedding, and well, here we are! I used to be a little nervous about it, but as more time has passed, I got over it. And it looks great, actually! It looks a million times better than I ever expected. He lost the beard, kept the goatee and it looks really good. He says now he just needs to put on a little more muscle and it's a complete look. I said that can be our New Years thing, because who the hell dares to implement an exercise routine in November?

It's also weird finding myself dumped into the holiday season. I was planning a wedding and then bam, it's Christmastime. Weird. It's all dreary outside, too, just like Texas does Christmas. Vaguely cool and cloudy. No precipitation and not really cold enough to justify a fire. Not that that's ever stopped me.

And, in addition to it suddenly being the holiday season, I also had to figure out where to vote tomorrow. Still registered in Carrollton, which is where I work and subsequently, quite convenient. However, it does involve me waking the hell up at some ungodly hour in order to get there as close to 7am as humanly possible. What's even sadder is my effort to do this, knowing I live in Texas. But I'm not allowed to bitch if I don't vote, and where would that leave me?

Anyhoo. So it was good to catch up on the 'fux stuff I had at home...I finally watched The Short Films of David Lynch, most of which I had seen before. Far more interesting were the introductions before each. And in that same vein was I Don't Know Jack, a little documentary on Jack Nance, whom most of you know as Henry from Eraserhead or Pete from Twin Peaks. It was a lot less depressing than you'd think, except for the story of the death of his second wife. Jesus. Towards the end of their marriage, she got back on drugs and he wanted to end the marriage. They were on the phone arguing about it while he was out in the middle of nowhere shooting a movie. There's a raging thunderstorm, she threatens to kill herself if he hangs up, and well, guess what. So the line goes dead and by the time Nance rustles up the director and they find a phone that does work, miles and miles away, LAPD finally gets called, they make it out to the house...but she didn't make it. So yeah, that was a bit of a downer.

And still hacking away at 10 Days That Unexpectedly Changed America, a little series out of (I believe) The History Channel. Pretty decent stuff, a little heavy to do more than one at a time. I start to glaze over junior-high-style. But good stuff. And I noticed it was co-executive produced by Joe Berlinger, the director of the Paradise Lost films and Metallica: Some Kind of Monster, which I found through Cinemaslave, when I first started listening.

And speaking of the 'Slave, I am rapidly catching up to the end of the Kubrick marathon. My Kubrick knowledge is pitiful. Most of the Kubrick films I have seen I've seen only once (Lolita, Full Metal Jacket) or maybe twice (The Shining). And some not at all (2001: A Space Odyssey, Barry Lyndon)! It's sad, I know. But 2001 is probably the biggest and perhaps last big embarrassment on the Shame List of Movies Not Seen. And it's #3 on the 'fux list, so I am working on it! I do like the films of his I've seen (not so much Eyes Wide Shut, but I realize that one is a bit of an exception...and really, I would like to give it another go).

Ok, back to work. And here he is, the new D. Before. After.

What are you looking at? Wipe that face off your head, bitch.

Wow, isn't it great to be back at work. I thought today would fly by. Apparently not so much. D is still off through the weekend, lucky bastard. I think he's attempting to watch the entire Nightmare on Elm Street collection he obtained through me as part of his DVD loot wedding gift. Tough day, you know.

Austin really was a ton of fun. Scholz Garten was the first thing we hit, being a little too early to check-in. It's excellent BBQ, down around all the government buildings (so I was familiar with it from my previous job) nearish campus (on the west side of MLK). Then right over to check in at The Austin Motel, where I've always been so curious to stay. We were in the smaller rooms, which have been around since 1938 (and are actually cozy in that good way). We got settled there and time passed, I'm sure how the time was passed isn't entirely relevant to this blog.

But then, more importantly, was the trek out to Hudson's On the Bend. Again, avoid the 'roo. But D had the lamb and I the venison...both were ungodly incredible. I couldn't finish my venison (with lobster on Bosc Pears, no less) and it was a very sad crime. But damn was it good. And we earned it, too. I totally forgot the joys of driving on 2222 in the pitch black. Bendy, to say the least. We sort of crashed back at the room after that monster of a dinner.

Rose early to walk from South Congress all the way up to campus. Did a pathetic look-around for internet and readily abandoned the search. On our way up Congress around 9am, D pulled me aside to whisper his celebrity sighting. He'd glanced over and thought to himself, "Hey, that looks like a weird mix of Frankenstein and Tarantino." When infact, it was just Tarantino. (Walking some young thing to class, by the look of it). Actually they were just parking their yellow car and feeding the meter. And from what I'd last heard of his size, he seems to have lost all the weight.

But we made it all the way up to campus, did a little shopping on the drag (which has greatly improved since my last visit--they have far more places to eat and cooler little shops rather than the bizarrely expensive ugly "boutiques," and Tower Records has gone for good). D bought me a really cute scarf dress (though it did turn out to be quite a windy and therefore adventurous day) and we ate at Mangia, one of my very favorite old pizza places. There were a couple other pizza places I heard great things about (a place right next to our hotel, infact, called Pizza By the Slice), but sadly time did not permit. Luckily, we had plenty of time for records and Toy Joy, happening upon some really great (read: awful) Christmas presents. Especially for Mark, whose birthday is December 1st. Ok, he doesn't read this: The Avenging Unicorn Set will soon be his.

We trudged back to the hotel and holy balls did our feet hurt. We cityfolk seldom walk anywhere. Certainly not up and down strange cities for the better part of the day. After cleaning up at the hotel we hit the downtown glorious Alamo Drafthouse, meeting up with Canadian Nell and our friend Lonnie, the quiet talker some of you met. Sadly, however, we chose to watch the new Terry Gilliam flick, Tideland. This was the biggest turd I've seen all year. I was downright twitchy toward the end, wishing desperately I could just walk out. Even more embarrassing were the previews beforehand for Twelve Monkeys and Brazil, which suddenly felt to me like a very bad omen. Stay the fuck away from Tideland, that's all I have to say. Though it was minutely better than The Brothers Grimm, which isn't saying much.

And the Austin adventures shall continue in a later blog, but for now...pictures! These are just from the two rolls from my camera, a mere glimpse. I'll post some from Mark's a little later...

The fabulous Veloute and Triana, hard at work on the cakes! With some killer finger cookies and deadly chocolate dipped strawberries (VERY popular with the little ones, as the pictures I've seen demonstrate!)...








Everyone's favorite costume of the evening, Alex (without whom my wig/hair would have been an utter embarrassment)! And Vel and Triana, finally out of the kitchen and in costume!

She had really fat fingers.

Woo hoo! I am now a married woman. I still have the same last name but I do have a very large fuck-off blue and silver wedding ring that I'm happy to have. We kinda had to shove it on at the ceremony, apparently it needs to be sized up an inch for my fat fingers. But it fits!

The wedding was loads of fun and went very smoothly. I loved seeing everyone and having everyone at the house. And they all seemed to be having a good time, even before the booze really got flowing.

I got up early the day of the wedding and piddled around while Veloute and Triana were kitchening it up. I got a bunch of stuff done until I stopped to eat lunch. It was while eating and having not much else to do that I sort of realized I was getting married in a bit and holy shit how nervous you must be! So I started to get nervous.

But I got ready, D got home from errands and got ready with plenty of time...Alex, Veloute, Triana and Kiwi Derek were all positively priceless with their help and calm. Got the show on the road just after 5:30pm as planned, walked out to see everyone standing and staring, definitely a little tricky to stomach. (And apparently the reverend had to lean in to D to ask, "Is this the procession music?" I guess the theme from Horror Express isn't a normal selection). Almost lost it a tad at the beginning of the ceremony (I mean fuck, D was doing that calm staring thing at me and I'm trying not to puke and giggle so a couple tears nearly made it out instead) and then it was all good. Just when I really had it together, though, I was supposed to start repeating stuff, though?? Actually that went well also. And it went by really fast! Twelve minutes my ass!

But I can see how no one gets to eat at their own wedding. Which is fine, really, since my stomach wasn't necessarily ready for solids yet. By the time I did get to sneak off to the sunroom with my friend J and my boarpig sandwich, my stomach only allowed me half. And we still have leftovers!

But I was a HUGE fan of the cakes we had, pictures to follow soon. Veloute and Triana managed to pull off the biggest chocolate buttercream wedding cake and eerie eyeball cake one could ever want. I still have chocolate cake to devour, which I am immensely excited about.

It was such a small wedding and even for this small of a wedding I was a little overwhelmed with all the people! But it was just right. How do people do real weddings? I guess you hire out. But everything went well, my wig I think looked much better than during the bridal shots thing, where I suspect it rode a bit high for reality. And my dress was absolutely perfect. I doubt many people feel at home in their wedding dress, but since I don't really have anything to bind up to begin with...but anyhoo, I can't wait to see the pictures! And btw, mom, a random guy in the elevator at the Adolphus says, "Good work!"

My only concern was the enormous size of both the hair and the bouquet. That was a fucking big bouquet. But it sure did smell nice!

And one of my favorite moments (which my dad was unsure if he should tell me about after the wedding and my mom wrote me about in an email) had to involve both my parents standing in the living room when D's dad walked in and introduced himself for the first time. At least none of the grandparents or women were yet present, just the father, when the ipod chose that moment to play Steve Martin's "fuck" monologue from Trains, Planes and Automobiles. I had totally forgotten it was on there. My dad sort of referenced what it was from, trying eagerly to get through the moment; I think the look of utter horror probably flashed only briefly across my mother's face--I mean, it's a fairly long monologue after all. And sure, we all know what it's from and have heard it countless times. Shit, everyone on my side of the family probably knows it fairly well. But D's parents, well...they don't actually really watch movies. At all. But hey, we're married now so it's too late! And now, much, much later, I find it utterly hysterical. I think the room kinda got a little quiet altogether, really. The tone does sort of command one's attention. So that was probably the biggest snag and "snag" is far too severe a word.

And we're back from Austin, which was lots and lots of fun. Don't eat 'roo, though. Watch the fuck out. Salted beef jerky, basically. And I have lots about Austin to link to and recommend, but I suspect that will be for tomorrow. I have to work tomorrow but then I'm off for the weekend. Gotta ease back into it, after all.