That baby's ready to tend bar.

Hmm. Con: I am married to someone who has seen neither The Usual Suspects nor The Untouchables. I asked, "Are there any other 'U' movies you need to tell me about?"

Pro: The very bestest husband in the whole world bought me a Garmin Nuvi for xmas. I want to lick it, marry it, have children with it. If you know me at all, you know I cannot find my way out of a mall parking lot. No, wait...you know I cannot find my way out of a public bathroom. I get turned around with such embarrassing ease that I am no longer embarrassed by my shame.

It not only guides me everywhere (and that bossy American chick is soon to be replaced by a saucy Australian or UK man) but I can tell it restaurants I want (or it will find some for me), nearby gas stations, entertainment, anything you could possibly want except perhaps where I might find an empty parking spot downtown on a Friday night the weekend before Christmas. But picky picky.

I think the pros have it, especially considering the cons simply mean I get to watch both of those movies again. And best of all, he has somehow made it this far with no one having spoiled The Usual Suspects for him. Weird.

I can't talk to that guy. I went to private school.

Wow, so we're getting ice for the second time this year already and it's not even Christmas! This is weird. We don't normally see winter til January.

I would prefer it if my husband were also home already, as even on my ride home (I brazenly went downtown after work to indulge in fettucine alfredo and Shiraz) the bridges were accumulating black ice. I-35S was fairly lucky, but I-35N seemed to have at least 3 severe accidents in the 10-minute time span that is my drive. What can I say, Texans love to drive on ice.

But now that I am home, I am snuggled up in my hot delicious spa with a big fat cup of Earl Grey and the first disc of season 4 of Cheers on my laptop. Even if I bombed the fuck out of my test and don't ever go to law school, by god, I will have that spa.

And this clip totally made my morning. I giggled on the way to work thinking back on it. Thanks, dad!

Yoko Ono...to see the apartment!

Well, that's over with. Omg, that was a very big pooch-screwing on my part. I almost sort of freaked out at one point it was so catastrophic. But then the first section after the break was so comically easy I wondered if there was something wrong with it. Sadly, one section does not five great sections make. At least one of two particular sections is experimental and won't count. I have a section in mind I'm totally praying doesn't make the cut.

The Cayuga White from Cornell is fucking spectacular, however. Goddamn.

And I am defusing by decorating my tree and putting up lights inside. As Triana knows, you just can't have too many Christmas lights and they really do make everything better.



Also watched Planes, Trains and Automobiles, which is still pretty damn perfect. And now? Jeffrey. Seriously, I have yet to encounter the grumpiness that Jeffrey cannot remedy. Ahhhh.

Good morning! Welcome to another day of higher education!

So I was making a fire last night out of one of my old high school yearbooks (which had nothing to do with not having newspaper and everything to do with wanting to burn those fuckers). I was getting a lot of joy from the tearing out of pages and whatnot when I, perhaps due to some obligatory masochistic impulse, still felt the need to read the signed back pages. And then I found an entry that totally floored and confused me.

Not that my friends weren't witty or funny, but those yearbook entries always tended to lack intriguing content. It was startling, like finding filet mignon in a strawberry ho ho. Except not gross.

And I had no idea who "Rog." (the signee) was. I was appalled I might not recall who this infinitely cool person was. The Al Pacino reference really caught me off guard, as I did have a friend who was obsessed, but her handwriting was atrocious, so I ruled her out.

Sweet Spank,

I already miss you and your toffee-sticky fingers and shapely knees. Even though we'll still share the same city, I'll no longer see that flash of your dazzling smile in the hallway. Life's a bitch! Well hey, if anyone ever tells you to "kiss my [squirrel]" like I did when we first met, you just do to them what you did to me; what a reaction. But don't take them on any parking lot trysts; repetition is death. And I'd be jealous. I'll never forget all the guys you scoped...and tackled...and if you ever find the right one again, THIS time find out his name in the morning.

Please never forget Big Al's words of wisom..."When in doubt...*" So just go out there, my little sugarpop, and start your own teddy bear factory and never look back. (And never sleep in leather.) Please try to get over your desire for callipygian young men--there just aren't enough to go around, you know, and I'm afraid you'll steal mine. Or at least the one destined to be mine. Or whatever. But anyway they're simply all merely tentiginons and thelyphthoric, so to hell with 'em. But hey, "I'm supposed to be doing promotion here." Blah. Yearbooks always make me sob and I'm only wearing my tweed briefs (nothing to wipe my nose on) so I'll sign off now. Good luck, sugar pop!

Your comedy partner,
XXX
XX Rog.

*In Scent of a Woman, Al Pacino advises his cat, "When in doubt, fuck."

But anyway, there you have it. I was stunned. And I'm sure it's because I was stressed and tired and thinking in high school mind-frame, but of course I still know the very witty person who wrote this.

My sister Alex! We did have an overlapping year together in high school, but I have no doubt this was written at home in a full-on tonuge-in-cheek-fuck-this-yearbook-shit gesture. It stood out from the tripe then and it really does now.

The handwriting was obviously familiar, and of course "squirrel" totally seals the deal. Ok, that and the Pacino line. But whew! It just confused me to read something that made me laugh hysterically in my own yearbook, it was so gloriously out of place.

(And hey, Alex, just for you, this is post #666, wewt!)

Scared? Hell, no. I'm looking FORWARD to it. My only regret, Carol, is that the plan isn't more violent.

Yes, I'm pretty sure the hot bartender just saw me snap my fingers at my computer (a gay finger-snap, in case you need clarification) while he was collecting my pizza remnants.

For the record, one glass of wine is really more than enough, I don't care if your therapist's appointment is that night.

That's my mom's most favorite piece!

Ok, wtf. I'm at Uno's and normally they are so on the ball. But apparently if you come in before 5 it's just to drown your sorrows in beer and wine? Cause I have a glass of wine and NO ONE has checked on me in 20 minutes. I'm all, hey, I've got a doctor's appointment to get to, y'all wanna feed me maybe?

And I didn't even read this whole article that Emily sent me cause I heard it on the news this morning and it's fucking depressing. Just MORE INCENTIVE to get the fuck out.

Speaking of which, I went to check out my LSAT test center cause I have no sense of direction and I'm the sort of person who needs to stake out the room beforehand. (Yes, I pass it nearly every day on my way to booze it up, but bite me.) Apparently as soon as you enter the building it's anal-patrol time security-wise, so no worries about not being able to find the room. But they were all, "Hey, were you the one whose husband called about being taken to see the room?" In retrospect I should have been ALL INTO THAT. "Maybe, or no, but can I see the room?" I know I could have, but who cares really. I am amused that someone is that...um...troubled?...that her husband has to call about getting her "in" to see "the room." Word, woman.

Dude, it's like they're afraid of me here. ASK ME IF I WANT PIZZA, BITCHES. I TRIPLE DOG DARE YOU.

Anyhoo. GUESS WHAT! GUESS who I'm gonna go see! No, you'll never guess. It's too awesome. Totally. Well, Alex and I (and my hubby) are going to go see (assuming the ticketmaster site doesn't screw up or hate us, you never know)...oh yes, wait for it...goodness me, ROBIN FUCKING WILLIAMS, ohmygodyes. It's like the time I was dirt-ass poor in Austin and then Paul Simon came to town. It's not "Can I afford it?" it's "What can I sell besides my body? Unless I have to and then that might actually be an option?" Anyone who wants in on that action should say so by Saturday, baby.

I smell ice cream.

For the record, my eyes are broken and can't even READ anymore. Fuck this noise.

I bit myself shaving.

It's Wednesday and I can feel the crazy oozing out a little here and there. My big test is Saturday. Did you know they fingerprint you for this test? You can bring your #2 pencils, a juice box and snack (but don't even LOOK AT IT unless it's during the ONE 15-minute break), and your prayers and that's it. Oh, and your test ticket and government-issued ID.

I had to register with LSAC's site (well, I didn't HAVE TO, but the law schools PREFER IT) which was $117. And the LSAT test itself is, I forget, maybe $120? It's just like Leo says, man, they fuck you at the drive-thru.

I have 5-7 schools in mind for applying, which should come in around $350-500.

So I thought I'd drink a little.

Just kidding. But I will be doing quite a bit Saturday night. I figure after my test (it's probably going to run around 5-6 hours?) on Saturday I'll hit the Flying Saucer around 2pm (the test is right across from the Water Gardens, so I'm five minutes from FOOD and more importantly, BEER) for a VERY unhealthy lunch (say it with me now: CHEESE FRIES) and then I'll head home to defuse with some xmas decorating, if there's any left (we're getting the tree tonight). And I am then making my way up to my roof to drink my Cayuga White--the wine made with grapes grown at Cornell. There may or may not be a cigar involved. I would almost smoke something else if a girl was hip enough to have such connections, but oh well.

Then Sunday? My ass is going to (assuming I'm not incredibly fragile from the previous day) hit the theater ALL DAY LONG, BABY. The Spirit Award nominations have me itching to see Rachel Getting Married. (I have a secret crush on Anne Hathaway but don't really seek her out since she tends to be in CRAP.) Gonna follow that up with The Changeling and Australia, in whatever order suits the times. They're all at Grapevine Mills, so anyone (Alex?) wanting to is more than welcome to join!



Kinda want to save this one for last because I'm a little precious that way.

I want you to take away the hope because that's the thing that's killing me.

So there is this girl at work who is new and she actually reads. It's weird, I know, but work with me here. And she reminded me that Denis Leary's new book is out and she thinks it's hysterical. So let's take a moment here.

A) There is a girl at work who reads.
B) She likes Denis Leary.
C) The name of the book is Why We Suck.



So this girl is okay by me. And she's from Seattle, so that seems to be a good thing if you ask me. I was looking at schools in that neck of the woods (Washington and Oregon) but all the write-ups were trying, as kindly as possible, to say, "Well, it's a good school and all...look, it's good for getting jobs in the area." Like, "He's nice, but I would only take him to the Chinese take-out place near my house after sex." Like that.

Anyhoo. So I made a request at the library (they had it!!) and I'm #3 in line. I hope I get it before Christmas, it seems appropriate.

Especially after trying to get home Sunday. I was trying to merge onto the highway in Denton to get to Fort Worth and it was wall-to-wall traffic at the merge. So this douchebag mothercuntstain would NOT let me in. I honked at him and he was ON THE PHONE but he managed to honk back. So no big, whatev, fuck you, I'll just cruise along slowly here on the shoulder and get in behind you. Beautifully, so choice, so in-the-holiday-spirit, the shit-stain of a loser behind him? Yeah, he wouldn't let me in either. I was half a second away from getting out of my car and gesturing wildly to everyone around me. So I was reconciled to driving on the shoulder for a good little while til they managed to pass.

Gotta love it.

This is why I need to read a very not-so-subtle Denis Leary book this time of year. To keep me from pulling out my mutherfuckin' shotgun.

Oh! And I saw Milk this weekend. It's at one theatre here (the arthouse I used to work in, naturally), but I'm over it, I can attend. It was really fucking good. My sister and I had only mild disagreements about its approach. First of all, it's a Gus Van Sant film. And I was SO GODDAMN PROUD to find that he is still capable of making yes, a LINEAR AND COHERENT film. Someone get the man a goddamn cookie.

It is, full stop, all about the acting here.



Everyone is FABOO, especially Sean Penn, and I am really not the huge Sean Penn fan. He is just SO SERIOUS. This role was so different from ANYTHING I'd ever seen him do, and honestly? He was ADORABLE. If he brought me to that line of thinking in the introductory scene alone, we can just say he's gifted, okay?

And Josh Brolin? Seriously. I simply cannot recall the last time I saw someone with so many fingers in so many pies. Go him. As long as he is keeping my woman, Diane Lane, happy and rolling in dough, I will totally support him.

Alex and I discussed how linear and by-the-numbers it is. It is a fairly standard bio-pic. I really enjoyed the cinematography but she felt it only added to the distance felt by the audience. That whole moment-captured-in-amber feel. And I agree with her, but I like that sometimes. While I don't normally go for standard and formulaic, I also really don't trust Van Sant to know a happy medium. He only does extremes, from what I can tell.



And considering the topic (most certainly in light of the timing--I will join everyone and their dog in saying I really, really wish this had come out before the vote on Prop 8), I am totally happy not to be swayed by its simplicity. I found the performances more than enough. Every once in a while, I am really quite easy to please.

And I say that Milk was easily one of the best of the year (not that I've seen much), due entirely and exclusively to performances and the topic. That is pretty hard to do--I honestly didn't think the screenplay or the director did anything terribly noteworthy. And I could be talking out of my ass, but for what it's worth, I say go see it: it's a good fuckin' time. Totally cute, entertaining and to no one's surprise, quite sad and depressing.

It's going to be easy - like peeling a turtle.

However much of a hard time I give him, Bourdain is incredibly perceptive. (I should take a moment to clarify that I am speaking of my cat, not the chef. Though if you read this and assume I'm speaking of the chef, it would certainly make for a very colorful event...)

I left the carrier out all day so he wouldn't freak out when I brought it out tonight (he hides). I came home and shoved half a pill into some tasty tuna. This is a very hit or miss method--half the cats I've ever owned chomp away, the other half eat around the goddamn thing. Bourdain, true to his namesake, apparently is enough of a tuna connoisseur to know when someone's been tinkering with his tuna. He left that spot untouched.

So I got out the pill popper. I LOVE this thing, this $0.05 contraption has made my life so much easier I want to marry it. And it did the trick today. But Bourdain knew he was in trouble when he didn't finish his food and I headed off to the bathroom for it--he headed for under the bed.

And got really scared. And started farting his little head off. I can still smell farts on me.

But I pulled him out and cooed to him and popped it down his throat. I then went about my business and I can tell he thinks that's what all the drama was about, as he is now licking his privates in the middle of the room.

He has no idea.

Yes, baby, I made you take that pill so you can go...in the car.

He typically fights the hell out of the drugs and it's still a fairly unpleasant ride, but jesus. At least he doesn't SHIT and PISS and BARF during the one hour trip, which yes, he normally manages all three if we do this undrugged. Last year I tried just leaving his ass at home for ONE DAY all by himself (the other cat came with me, as he is a very seasoned and happy car traveller) and holy jesus. He hid from us when we came back, acting totally betrayed and abandoned. Like I just didn't love him. And I hope that is the closest I ever come to knowing what it's like to have a girlfriend...

And I still smell like goddamn cat farts. I'm going to have to change.

But Darius is a dancer. He's in "Cats."

OMG, I LOVE YOU FED EX! And I loooooooove that I hadn't gotten in the shower yet when you rang the bell--I love that I was even home.

I ordered this Sunday night:



and have it in my paws Wednesday morning. Holy shit.

And it just may be the most gorgeous thing in the world. Sleek, sexy, purple.

Did I seriously say I was going to wait until test day to play with it? Fuck that, I'll buy myself a cookie afterwards or something.

Bizarre what some men find attractive.

So props to the dude who crossed the room as I was getting ready to leave, who stopped me and said, "Hey, before you pack up, I really just wanted to let you know that you really carry yourself very well. You're very beautiful and you seem really intelligent and I just really wanted to let you know that."

Ok, first of all. Thanks. Second of all, now I feel REALLY awkward. Thirdly, how the FUCK did I seem intelligent surfing the net and sucking down ale? And baby, I even ate cheese fries. So maybe not the time to choose, "You look intelligent," but whatev.

Also, it was not one sentence. It was several. There was, no shit, even something about my posture in there. He was pretty eloquent, all things considered (like, it's Fort Worth and it's a bar), and I was the choad who initially responded with a comically high-pitched, "Really?" But I let him know I thought it was very nice to hear and that I was married (met with, of course, "Oh, I didn't mean to hit on you, I just really appreciate a beautiful woman...") but I basically gave him a nice kthxbye.

Good on him, but it also makes me want to hide. I don't do compliments well, especially when I assume they may be brought on by an alcoholic binge.

The only proper authorities I am aware of are my commanding officer Colonel Nathan R. Jessup and the Lord our God.

Vaguely crappish work day, but the evening is obviously meant to be. Pulled up in front of the Flying Saucer to find an open spot exactly across the street at Schakolad (the best chocolate shop in the city, but more on that in a mo') and walked in to find exactly one table left all by itself. Not only is it nice and warm inside, the table is completely isolated from douchebaggery and right next to the menu of new winter ales.

Ah.

And I wanted to stop at Schakolad anyway for Thanksgiving. I got a 1/2 lb box and filled half of it with mint truffles and half with milk caramels. Now let's see if it makes it home to the family! It's a very affordable truffle shop and the quality is the best I've ever had, comparable only to Vermont Chocolatiers. Their mint truffles are really something...I picked out two that would go well with eggnog, red wine and tea. Not everything can have alcohol in it, I suppose...

Yesterday was nice...I drove back to my house from Denton and actually tidied up a little and made dinner while starting Mad Men. Only one episode in, but I can see it has potential. While I was watching it, my friend J called wanting to discuss season 4 of BSG, which I have not watched yet, and he had just started Mad Men as well, though where I saw potential he had doubts. It's very hard for me to choose which of his opinions to take under advisement; we definitely agree more on drama than comedy. Then again, he occasionally unwinds by watching Cheaters, meaning everything coming out of his mouth is suspect.

But for dinner I tried a new recipe for macaroni and cheese from Fine Cooking; it had a lot of similar ingredients to my mother's famous take, so I thought I'd give it a whirl. Hmm, says I. Not even close. Too wet and not spicy enough. But I also made their French Onion Soup recipe, which I have made a few times before. First of all, cooking onions is just about the absolute bestest smell the kitchen can offer (that and those sweet potato rolls mom makes), but then eating it with bread and cheese melted on top...borderline orgasmic. Very much a cold weather dish, sadly. (Being a Texan...)

But speaking of trying new things, I'm sipping on an Anchor Christmas, which I only tried at the waitress' insistence...



I never would have, had I realized it was a dark ale. But holy shit is it good. It has a bunch of spices going on, including ginger. Not unlike the French Onion Soup, winter helps.

And yesterday, I ordered my LSAT present for myself, a new purple ipod Nano. Because I cannot afford the iTouch and besides, the iTouch is not purple. I haven't taken the test yet, but I wanted to have it in my hot little paws the second I get out of that goddamn test center and I wanted it engraved. So as you can imagine, ordering now was prudent.

What sucks is that Apple will not let you put whatever you want in your engraving. Who the hell are they to censor my little purple ipod? So sadly, it shall not have my favorite Streets of Fire line, "Everywhere I go, there's always an asshole." I wrestled with many a movie and line all the way home on my drive, but in the end, considering it's going to be purple and well, mine, I went with a line from Bridget Jones:

"I choose vodka. And Chaka Khan."

Yes, you are exactly my brand of heroin.

I giggled less than I expected, though that line was one of them. I know it's even in the book, but someone saying it out loud definitely made it giggle material.



First of all, Twilight was sold out all night, so it was the last show of the night to which I barely snagged a ticket. And it was a surprisingly diverse crowd, ethnically speaking. Mostly women, yes, but I assure you they dragged many a male along.

And you know, it wasn't bad at all. I can't imagine wanting to watch it without having read the books, but the movie actually seemed to take it down a notch. The books are so overblown with angsty romance I have to not roll my eyes or sometimes even fight the chunks. The film had those moments, but far fewer, and it was pretty good to the material.



And all the people were great. I especially thought Kristen Stewart made a great Bella. I think the weakest link may really have been Robert Pattinson. Sure, he's easy on the eyes, but he lacked that vampire charisma somehow. You know, like Kiefer Sutherland in Lost Boys, Gary Oldman in Dracula (that one may be a stretch--that movie loses something for me every time I see it now), shit, I'd even go so far as to cite Louis from Interview With a Vampire (yes, it's a little different, since he always seemed to be working that whole victim thing). But you get my point. Pattinson's good looking and all, but I didn't buy anyone being uncontrollably drawn to him. (Yes, I realize a billion screaming girls may disagree with me here.) He still did a great job, I'm just being picky. People in the crowd were still quite, uh, audible, when Edward made his first appearance.

And I do see what one reviewer meant when they said the cinematographer shoots Edward "like a sex god." I actually felt less uncomfortable than I anticipated.

Oh, and I thought Jacob Black was totally meh. I really wanted more for that character. Oh well.



It did feel kinda long to me, though it was 125 minutes. I don't see that being a real fault since they did a great job picking what to shoot and how long to spend on various things, so the pace was fine...must have just been me.

I did laugh when my friend J (who was running projection) said, "My god. You've found a vampire movie that D doesn't want to watch!" (In all fairness, I'm sure he would have if I had really wanted him to see it with me.) But he was closing last night anyway.

Anyhoo. If you're going to see it at all, I do think it's one of those few movies where seeing it with the crowd of tittering fans does kinda help...there's something you'll almost never hear me say!

"I strenuously object?" Is that how it works?

I am back at Mangia (who says I'm not original and adventurous?) for one last pizza before I hit the road. My feet ached and I just didn't feel like fucking around with downtown parking.

I was slightly adventurous this morning, however, and tried a place called Torchy's Tacos for breakfast, as they are supposed to have the best queso in Austin. Yes, I ate queso before 10am, lick me. I also had a Democrat (it's a taco), which was not really all that. But I like my cilantro in minute amounts. They do have a pretty cool menu and reputation, so I do recommend. And the queso was pretty damn fine.

I also like the first few reminders that I'm back in a city with personality. They had a sign attached to their trash can that read, "PLEASE! Do NOT throw away our baskets!! WWOD? What Would Obama Do? He would not throw away our baskets." Hee hee.

Normally I always hit El Sol y La Luna for breakfast, as it's attached to the Austin Motel, but they are always closed on Mondays. I knew this going in, but booked there anyway, why not. And I was SO SAD to see the restaurant is moving downtown! That BLOWS! Their SoCo location is ideal--who the fuck wants to be downtown anymore, it's too crowded. And it was easily half the reason I stay at the Austin Motel! Sniff. Oh well.

Anyhoo, the tour and class at UT was great. I especially loved the class, it was Criminal Law. I mean, we kicked right off by discussing the technical difference between "deviant sexual acts" and "fornication," oh yes. And then it went on from there and (it was a small section, 25 people) there was much debate about what should or should not be deemed criminal (homosexual conduct vs. incest) and if so, how can it be, if it can't be proven that it's harmful (incest can be harmful insomuch as children could be produced or coersion may be a factor, but what if it's two adult twin brothers? This was an actual example). The point is, at that point you get into what's "morally" right and wrong and it gets complicated.

So it was quite an interesting class and the teacher had much personality, so that made it even better. All the people were very friendly--I was there with two other people, one of whom I just can't find anything nice to say, so I shall say nothing here. But we all also sat and read some of the personal statements from successful candidates. Some of them really made me wonder...and there were far too many that discussed their personal relationship with God and/or Jesus in a little too much detail for my taste.

It's much larger (in so many ways) than Cornell--it's really a complete opposite, in a way. From being in such a bustling city to the fact that they accept a much larger class (400) than the small schools (fewer than 200). Which I see as both a plus and minus. I think I would probably rather be somewhere larger, though, if that's all that mattered. Otherwise it might just be too tight, y'know? I don't want to know everyone's name. I quite value some anonymity once in a while.

But I'll be on the road soon, just stopped in for a little pizza in my greater plan to miss the bulk of Dallas rush hour.

This man and I have some unfinished business.

Well hell, I thought it was fun.



I definitely prefer Casino Royale, but Quantum of Solace was good, nonetheless. The opening wasn't as huge as they've tended to be lately, but it was still very cool. With a nice laugh. And Alex disagrees with me, but I really didn't like the editing style on most of the action--it was all tight close-ups, no wide shots or really much scene-setting. To me, that always reeks of cheating, plus it's just not as impressive-looking.

Daniel Craig was perfection, as always. The bad guy was nice and creepy, too, A+ on him, ew.

And now I'm in Austin waiting on my deep dish Mangia!



Jesus there's a fuckload of construction! Everywhere I want to go it's one lane. I haven't scoped out the law school yet, I'll wait til tomorrow morning. I'm getting a tour before the 12:30 Criminal Law class. Good times.

I wish I was going to be here for more than one night, I love this place. And the Austin Motel is so cute, I'm always excited when I get a room there.

But for now, I'm getting off the internet and starting New Moon. How embarrassing...and hey, speaking of embarrassing, I think the film of Twilight comes out this week. Let the shame parade begin!

And remember: the passion for destruction is also a creative passion.

Ha ha, I almost forgot I'm supposed to drive to Austin tomorrow. I remembered yesterday morning, with just enough time to book a room at the Austin Motel. I'm sitting in on a Criminal Law class Monday morning. So I will spend tomorrow evening shoving either deep dish Mangia or Scholz Garten BBQ in my face while doing yet another practice LSAT.

I searched images of "UT Law" and this nice pic came up third...



and sadly, this one came up fourth.



It's a very serious school, you see.

Actually, it might be; perhaps this poor bastard has just finally snapped.

In any case, it's time to pack up and head for Denton for a little Quantum of Solace break. Yum.

I've got a little itch, down there. Would you mind?

I think this is from Tuesday or so, I just never got around to finishing...

Damn. It's really raining out there! Me? I'm having deep dish cheese pizza and wine. A smart girl would be at home, but there was no food there. Well, there was some microwave popcorn, maybe some pickles...milk...I think there is some leftover tomato bisque from election night...so, no.

And it's just windy enough to make me nervous. My umbrella is my Very Super-Sexy Mitsukoshi Umbrella, and you've got another thing coming if you think I'm letting that thing get blown inside out. What's a little water? I'll get soaked before I let it get ruined. It's not that I don't mind an excuse to go back, but those fuckers are pricey. (My mom and I caught a sale a couple years ago...)

Anyhoo. Long day, same stupid shit but nothing interesting enough to actually merit a place here (unlike my titillating food and umbrellas stories).

So my friend J and I have already been bitching back and forth about this year's Bond and whether or not it will suck. He sends me some review--published on Fox News, which already sends my eyes rolling--shitting on it. This reviewer is apparently all put out that Bond is mourning Vesper. The reviewer claims Bond wouldn't give two shits and neither should we--infact, who among us recalls who the fuck that was?

I beat my head against my desk. I'm so sorry, please go seek out your old school '60's Bond if you want him to slap some twinkie's ass with a wink and a, "Run along, honey, man talk."



(And hey, I don't know about you, but I'm watching Quantum of Solace for its artistic integrity. Hmm...is it weird that the one on the left does way more for me? Ok, anyhoo.)

Plus, let's all please recall that this is setting up Bond to be Bond. This is why Bond is who he is. Seriously, the film might totally suck balls (there were rumors aplenty when word got around that it clocks in at around 1:45, don't ask why), but let's not say that it sucks balls because "Bond doesn't have any." Kiss. My. Ass.

In all fairness, the review also said A) the theme song sucks donkey nuts b) there is no bad-ass opening...and beyond that, I just don't recall. Those may be valid complaints, and I'll letcha know.

But this was a totally endearing look from The New York Times at Daniel Craig himself (thanks, Alex! *drool!*).

...and now it's Friday and the Bond is out. J saw it the other day and said something along the lines of, "Yeah, craptastic. It was just non-stop action and a nonsensical plot."

And I was all, "Fucking A!"

This really isn't his sort of flick to begin with, but now I think he's just missing the point altogether. And he isn't ogling Daniel Craig, either, so there's very little in it for him.

In any case, plans are on for tomorrow night, so fingers crossed for LOUD, HOT ACTION! Rowr.

All right, all right I'll ask her. Miss, miss! Do you know where the high school girls hang out around here?

I'm trying not to take this the wrong way:

Waiter: "Has anyone helped you?"

Me: "Well, someone took my drink order."

Waiter: "Was it a margarita?"

Me: "Yes."

Waiter: "I remember you."

I mean, a lone girl with a laptop is surely more memorable than some chick who orders a margarita at a Mexican restaurant, right? And sure, it ended up being three margaritas, but it's not like I did a table dance after the third one, jesus.

PFG, Carter. PFG.

See? I wasn't making it up.



Even worse, as I'm pulling up my car alongside to take a picture, I notice the owners' neighbors are out and about in their yard. Shit, might have been the owners for all I know. Did I care? Hell no (I mean, look at it), but I only took the one picture...

Again, this is parked on the street perpendicular to mine, so at least they aren't my neighbors. (Did they lose a bet? Seriously.)