I'll show you the roof. It's upstairs.

Because marriage is all about trying new things (read: forcing your likes onto your partner), last night D and I traded. I made him watch:



and he made me watch:



And luckily we both enjoyed them, which is always a little surprising. He really liked Shut Up and Sing (well, really liked might be a tad strong, but he certainly appreciated it and had no idea as to the giant debacle it all was), and I thought Detroit Rock City was a lot of fun. It had a bit more physical gag type humor than is usually my speed, but it was cute enough otherwise to kind of make up for it. And we both agreed that if anyone ever wanted to bottle and sell Little Bitch Voice, Edward Furlong would be their guy.

And I also realized that part of the reason I really like Shut Up and Sing is because I covet nearly each and every one of their outfits.

We started out the day dropping Hans at the shop for his 120,000 mile check-up. How did it go?



It was the same price they said it would be and he didn't need any additional work. Aaaaaaaand they put his front bumper back on! Now don't get me wrong, he has a front bumper. But the rubber attachment that holds the passenger side in place is dodgy at best and it's a low car. So anytime I park a smidgen too close to the cement parking...thing...it will catch and pull the corner off. It drives me fucking crazy because not only can I never get it back on, neither can D. Only Cinema Mark seems to have the magic touch and now that we no longer work together, I just don't have the opportunity to whine and make him fix it as often. So I nearly teared up with joy that they popped it back on for me, elevating it once again from hooptie status.

D then took me to the library so I could pick up the books they were holding for me and then we hit a really fantastic little Mexican place very close to our house we've been meaning to try called El Arroyo. The outside really reminds me of El Sol y La Luna, my favorite Austin TexMex place. And this place, it turns out, might be even better. They have like, seven different kinds of margaritas (Arlington alcohol prices are rockin') and mouth-watering spinach con queso, which was all I ordered. And we had dessert after happy-houring it up all afternoon.



Fried cheesecake smothered in fudge and vanilla ice cream. (Called Xangos). And it was D's idea! (This is the man who mocked me for eating a fried Snickers from the Fried What? booth at Jazz Fest last year). SO GOOD. We polished it off before the waitress managed to get the check to us.

Today is a bona fide armpit outside, really thick wet air. I only got three artemisia plants in and moved the clematis to the trellis as my moonflower seeds have decided they want nothing to do with my backyard. The morning glories in the front yard, however, are acting as though I've been feeding them plant crack.

And now it may be time for leftover Chinese food and library books.