How are you today? I'm superfantastic.

Leave the house, get blog material. Who'd have thought?

I went for a walk yesterday. See, I needed to go to the post office, which is roughly a mile and a half away. It's not so hellaciously hot this week and, really, what else do I have to do?

First, I discovered that, despite the fact that I live off a busy street and there is a middle school right there, we have no sidewalks. So I had to walk in the bike/parking lane and hope to not be run over. San Antonio hates pedestrians. WHY WOULD YOU WALK ANYWHERE WHEN YOU CAN DRIVE YOUR TRUCK OR SUV WE MADE THESE ROADS FOR YOU, I hear it telling me.

I saw, discarded in the grass, what appeared to be a bus driver's shirt. Embroidered on the pocket were three crosses and the words Glory-Bound Express. Well, great. The Glory-Bound Express driver has either quit or been abducted. How am I supposed to get to Glory now???

Which reminded me of a Sunday school song: "You can't get to heaven in a Kleenex box, 'cause God don't take no little snots." I've been trying to think of something funny to add to that, but I can't seem to improve upon letting you just mull that one over, unaided.

Then, there was the getting yelled at by a man in a fast-moving vehicle. Why do guys do that? I've never understood the point. I swear, if you put a gun to my head and told me that I had to tell you exactly what he said, the most honest answer I could give you would be "GAY! GAY!" I am fairly certain that wasn't the message he was trying to convey. As I mentioned to Twitter, this was an exciting ego-boost to me, as it can only mean that the man found me stunningly gorgeous. Not merely a girl walking alone who appeared to have all of her limbs and be under the retirement age.

Last night, I met up with my brother and sister-in-law, and the birthday boy himself, to do a little shopping. It was getting late by the time we were at Target and Owen was getting a bit grumpy. Which is how I, a person who will barely dance on a dark and crowded dance floor and even then after a couple of drinks, found myself dancing like an idiot stone-cold sober under the fluorescent lights in an aisle of Target to the R&B hits of the 90s for the entertainment of the boy. He particularly enjoyed me jumping around to Jump Around. This despite the fact that while I did jump up, jump up, I did not especially get down.

Better pack it up, pack it in if I'm going to get out of the house yet again today. Also, you know, shower. Gots to look nice for the driving-by men of San Antonio.

I Always Feel Like Somebody's Watching Me (You're welcome for that song.)

In case you hadn't noticed, I've had a bit of a month.  There's the stuff you know about, plus some that you don't.

Question: But Lori, isn't the stuff we know about more than enough to deal with?

Answer: YES.

The fact that Tattletale Coworker has now escalated to full-on spying is pretty much the living end.  I noticed her standing watching me today and then another temp came over to ask whether TC had needed anything from me since she saw her peeking over a cubicle wall at me.  (I wanted to give TC a nastier nickname, but if you think about it, how sad must her life already be if she makes it her personal mission to bust a temp for intermittent internet use?) 

Nevermind that I finished my entire assigned workload for the day by 12:30 and went back three times to get additional work.  No, the important thing is that TC most likely witnessed me printing off a copy of my Federal tax return from the H&R Block website since I forgot to bring it and didn't want to go home before the post office to mail my state return. 

(Yes, ok, I completed my state taxes in January, but I had to call to ask a question and I never, ever remember to make phone calls at appropriate times, which is one of the many reasons I vastly prefer email.  So I called last week and then mailed it today, complete with Ziggy return address label from the ones sent to me by The Leukemia and Lymphoma Society.  Really brightened up the taxes, I thought.)

Fortunately, I will only be available for TC's surveillance for two more days this week.  On Friday, I fly to Texas.  I'm going all the way to Dallas on a teeny tiny plane, which is not the model that has been grounded, so I'm hoping that means I'll actually get there.  I'm pretty sure it's another little guy for the rest of the trip.  If my large plane back on Monday got grounded, well it sure would be tragic if I wasn't able to return to the watchful eye of my favorite coworker on time Tuesday morning, wouldn't it?

In the intervening days, there will be babies to snuggle and margaritas to drink, although I will not do both concurrently.  My brother told me that he probably has to work all weekend, but he knows he's not the important one anyway.  That's right, you're not.  It sounds like Owen will be able to catch a ride to me with his mom.  And I am assured that Allie's schedule is wide open for this weekend.

I also see that the pollen forecast jumps from HIGH on Thursday to VERY HIGH in time for my arrival on Friday.  Awesome.  I guess we'll find out whether my new friend Zyrtec is up to the challenge.

In the meantime, I better try to get my internet fix tonight, lest I make TC's awkward attempts at espionage fruitful again tomorrow.  I mean to stymie that woman, if for no other reason than it will provide me another opportunity to say stymie.

Because apparently I don't think you'll believe that I ever leave my house unless I prove it with photos

Spring break in Chicago.  Not so good for tanning, but at least you're safe from Joe Francis there.  We did go wild by forgoing hats and mittens for parts of Saturday when it was sunny and not snowing.  Friday, not so much.

What you see there is the reason we went ahead and spent most of Friday inside the Field Museum.  Here we have Holly and Sue, the T-Rex.

Later on, we met Jennie for Chicago style pizza.

Good planning when spending winter spring break in Chicago: pick a hotel with four bars inside so you can get your drink on without braving the elements.  We started with Daddy O's Irish Pub for the requisite Irish Car Bombs, then moved on to BIG Bar.  Guess what their gimmick is. 

They serve 48 ounce drinks that people can share.  Except no one told the three geeky boys at the table next to us that three boys attempting to flirt with girls should not share one BIG drink.  Spring for your own drinks, boys.  Probably it's better too if they are not so brightly-colored.  Smarter (if not entirely convincing) was the guy drinking his own individual beer who pretended to think that Holly and I were around 22 years old.  Bless you, strange man, even if you do intend to cast a symbolic vote for Ron Paul in the general election.

After sleeping in, we spent most of Saturday shopping on Michigan Avenue (total purchases: lunch) and seeing Navy Pier.

Although if we're being perfectly honest here, we also spent some of Saturday watching a National Geographic special about the difference between humans and apes on the giant flat-screen TV in our hotel room.  What?  It was cold outside and according to Holly's pedometer we had already walked about thirteen miles over the weekend.  Except for a brief trip down the street for dinner, we were finished with the walking and the seeing sights and the generally doing things that were not laying on our beds in a nice warm room.

The next morning, Holly got up at the crack of dawn to fly back to San Antonio.  In flagrant violation of Illinois state law, her flight left O'Hare on time.  Much later, I got up and caught the bus back to Madison.  Unfortunately, reality was still here, awaiting my return.  But at least Friday's snow had melted off the streets and parking lots.  Snow which, according to my radio this morning, put Madison's total this winter over 100 inches, for those of you playing along at home.

Ok, everybody say "Thanks, Holly!" for having a functional camera and getting her photos to me so speedily for your viewing pleasure.  And by "for your viewing pleasure" I of course mean "so I don't have to write a real post."  Thanks, Holly! 

Reinforcements!

This time tomorrow, I'll be on a bus headed for Chicago to meet up with Former San Antonio Roommate Holly.  (You remember Holly.)  She had been thinking of coming up here for the end of her spring break (Madison: The Spring Break Destination of...No One, Really.) but discovered that for the same price as a ticket here, you can get a ticket to Chicago and what appears to be a rather swanky hotel room downtown.  This way, we both get a change of scenery and yet I don't have to buy any plane tickets. 

Holly has never before been to Chicago, so we'll get to do some of the tourist stuff.  I think the last time I went to a museum in Chicago, it was a field trip and I was in middle school.  We'll also get to hang out with Jennie (you remember Jennie) and eat pizza (keep your fingers crossed for the imminent return of my appetite) and try to convince Holly that sunny and mid- to upper-30's is nice weather.

In case you're still not convinced that a visit from Holly is exactly what I need right now, please recall that Holly was the co-creator of Drinks Around the World!  I cannot imagine a city with more ethnic drinking opportunities than Chicago.  In fact, the one and only actual plan I have made is locating the pub where we will be throwing back our Irish car bombs.  Priorities.

And now I have an assignment for you, Internet.  I'm going to be spending roughly six hours round-trip on the bus for this excursion.  One thing that I meant to mention in that last post but didn't was the new challenge that music presents these days.  Love songs and break up songs are obviously out of the question.  Songs that are too sad depress me.  Songs that are too happy piss me off.  The radio will usually get you some odd stuff like Sunny Came Home (am currently neutral on the topic of arson) and Bette Davis Eyes (I have no idea what that song is even about, so I guess it's fine by me) but my iPod is sadly lacking in songs I want to listen to these days.  So, Internet, make me a playlist.  What should I get?

What I Did on my Christmas Vacation

by Lori Graham, age...whatever.

I went to Sea World.  Dawn and I rode in the very front of a fun roller coaster.

Owen and I spent some time chilling in our cool shades.  The chicks, they dig him.

Since it is my job to spoil Owen with sugary treats, I thought three months was totally not too early early to start him on funnel cakes.  Poor kid had been deprived of fried dough with powdered sugar for his entire life.

We went on the roller coaster again and saw Shamu.  It was a fun day.

The End

Merry Christmas, everybody!

Plus I got to wear flip flops today.

Yesterday, my day began at 4:45.  I am a firm believer that times beginning in 4 do not constitute Early Morning so much as Still Night.  But that's when I got up so I could be dressed, finished packing, and at Alan's by 5:45 for my ride to the airport.  Amazingly, we actually managed to have a conversation in the car at that unreasonable hour.  I think it might have even made sense.

Soon after, I boarded the tiniest plane I have ever personally seen.  We made it safely to St. Louis and were thanked for flying on American Connection, which we were reminded is part of the One World Alliance.  That name always sounds frighteningly Orwellian to me.  As if the One World Alliance, before too long, will be dictating our every thought and action.  The One World Alliance does serve Diet Dr Pepper on its flights though, making it the sort of totalitarian regime that I might be able to get behind.

In St. Louis, I had time to get an eggnog latte (see above re: getting up at 4:45) before boarding a normal-sized plane that would take me to San Antonio.  Oh look, I thought, I am in the window seat of the side with only two seats!  My favorite!  Except my row was full.  Full of a couple who gave me the puppy dog eyes about wouldn't I please trade seats so they could sit together.  Naturally, they decided to grab the aisle seat that one of them had and beg for my lovely window seat.  What they offered in return turned out to be a middle seat.  Directly in front of one screaming baby and one crying toddler.  And three rows back, which did not seem like a big deal until I was waiting for all eternity to get off the plane while needing desperately to pee.  At that point I began directing invisible hate rays toward the heads of the seat-stealing couple who were a good ten people ahead of me in line.  If you must sit together, couples of the world, you keep the crappier of your two seats and swap the better one.  Or you pull one over on a sleep-deprived sucker and just hope that karma isn't real.

As for me, I may not have gotten to look out the window or have access to either armrest for two hours, but I did get more than enough reward in the end.

Amy and Joe, sitting in a tree. Not literally, although it was not for lack of available trees to sit in.

Amy, my friend of almost 25 years, got married on Saturday.  She and Joe had their ceremony at Trillium Lake near Mt. Hood in Oregon.  It was beautiful, and more to the point, very much Amy and Joe.

Here's the wedding party at the ceremony site:

One of these things is not like the others, one of these things does not belong.  One of these kids is doing her own thing...

Failing to clear 5'6, that is, much less six feet like everybody else.  Amy's demand that I wear flip flops did not help matters in the height department.  Actually, this was an excellent idea on her part, seeing as how there was some trekking through the woods to be done.  They were sparkly flip flops, FYI, lest you think my feet weren't appropriately fancy.

It turned out to be well worth submitting myself to the iron fist of the bridezilla (she also MADE me pick whatever dress I wanted and do whatever I wanted with my hair) to get my bridesmaid gift, a quilt that Amy made for me.  I tell you, it pays to be friends with crafty people.

I considered bringing my new quilt along for the ceremony, seeing as how it looked like it might be chilly.  In fact, Amy and Joe prepared for all possible wedding weather scenarios:

Umbrellas!  Hand warmers!  Programs printed on fans!  All unnecessary, seeing as how it was sunny, somewhere around 70 and generally perfect.

After the ceremony, Amy's brother Jim and I discussed being the last two out of the Graham/Tessmer kids to be married.  We found it surprising, seeing as how we are clearly the best looking two.

Don't you think?

Amy and Joe's reception was at a restaurant at the base of Multnomah Falls.

We had lunch there and, in lieu of wedding cake, sunflower cupcakes.  This was an idea Amy and I discussed early on in her wedding planning and I was happy that she went with it, not only because it was distinctly Amy, but also because the frosting to cake ratio on a cupcake is much more favorable for a frosting fanatic such as myself.

The center of the sunflower there is fudge.  When I commented to Amy about how outstanding that was, she took a spoon, scooped the fudge center out of hers and gave it to me.  And that, folks, is called true friendship.

Happy wedding, friend, and a happy happy life with Joe.

That's Entertainment

Overheard while walking among the drunks downtown Madison around 10pm on Saturday:

How do I get to Madison?  Madison, the city.  Why are you running away?  Some people have no sense of humor!

Right.  Failing to laugh at your clever joke of asking how to get to Madison as you stand not fifty yards from the Capitol indicates that the rest of us have no sense of humor.

I AM TWENTY-ONE!  FIRST OF ALL, I AM @#$%ING TWENTY-ONE!

There didn't seem to be a second of all, and her compelling argument apparently didn't work on the bouncer since we saw her walking down the street later.  Surprising.

I can't believe you're still touching me.

Ummm...

I won't have my geekiness questioned.

Ok, that might not have been a random drunk person so much as it was...me.  Not drunk.  Also not tolerating any attacks upon the extent of my geekdom.

I know there were more that I'm forgetting.  Next time I'll be sure to take notes for you.  Except not this weekend since I'm off to the Pacific Northwest for Amy's wedding, and it's not going to be that kind of reception.  Although if it is possible to become inebriated off cupcake frosting, I will do my best to make it that kind of reception.

Exploring other cultures: educational and fun!

Welcome to a little thing we called Drinks Around the World!

Drinks Around the World! got its start on Wednesday when Holly and I had lunch at Carino's with my brother and sister-in-law (and, by extension, Future Nephew) and we remembered how much we love their tasty, tasty Italian Margaritas.  So after a stop at Target and another stop at SuperTarget (What?  I needed a dress for the rehearsal.  And the dress needed shoes.  And we needed coffee.) we went to a different Carino's and proceeded directly to the bar.  Bongiorno, Italy!

Our next country of choice, Mexico, was dictated by the dinner plans we already had with Krystal and Melissa, to go to Casa Rio.  One simply cannot eat Mexican food without a margarita.  Unless one is Holly, in which case one has a Dos Equis.  Or dos.

It was then decided that we needed this:

So Melissa drove us to Champps, where we expanded our cultural horizons with white Russians.  "To Mother Russia!" Melissa toasted.  Indeed. 

Much later...

 

...we headed home, where Holly and I made our last international stop: Ireland.  When Holly and I drink together, there tend to be Irish car bombs, and we happened to have picked up the necessary supplies somewhere between Italy and Mexico.

After all of that food, the idea of downing a pint of Guinness was less appealing than usual, but we soldiered on.  Sometimes sacrifice is necessary in the name of multicultural understanding, and we were nothing if not committed to that ideal.

This concludes our tour.  Until next time, this has been Drinks Around the World!  (Oh, there will SO be a next time.)

Best Wedding Ever.

I simply cannot say enough good things about Sharon and Eili's wedding.  But here are some of them.

First of all, there were the place cards.  Not normally note-worthy at most weddings, but Sharon and Eili made good use of all of their cards.  Even some spares:

Oprah, it is considered poor form to RSVP positively to a wedding and then not show.  I'm surprised you didn't know that.

We also picked up our copies of what Sharon termed the "goy handbook" which would explain all of the very Jewish stuff going on.  Wedding Cliff's Notes!  Brilliant!

Then we got inside where they gave us champagne and served us appetizers right away.  We didn't have to wait for the wedding or anything!  And here, by appetizers, I mean tables and tables of different stuff as well as waiters bringing entirely different appetizers.  How am I supposed to go back to having to wait until after the ceremony to be fed?

The pre-wedding excitement also featured getting caught up with old friends from back in my civics teaching days.  Here they are outside, where we went for the ceremony.

That's Jason, his girlfriend Beth, Emily, and Angela.  And here comes the bride:

Except not to that Here Comes the Bride song, so much as this classic from The Muppets Take Manhattan.  Honest to God, it was Miss Piggy, Kermit, and the bears and chickens and things singing her down the aisle.  Awesome.

Sharon in a dress and make up was quite a thing to behold.  Although, as beautiful as she looked, I have to agree with her niece who reportedly told Sharon "I like you better plain."

Then she married Eili.

After that, it was time to party.  We headed back inside and found our table, via the table numbers, which were all photos of Sharon and Eili in front of different DC landmarks.  For the civics geek table, Eleanor Roosevelt.

There we found our favors: a Sharon and Eili-themed crossword puzzle and puzzle pens with "I was puzzled at Eili and Sharon's wedding" written on them.

When geeks go to weddings.

But then it was everyone up for the hora.  Which, allow me to say, is pretty much the most fun you can have at a wedding.

You know you are having a good party when the floor is literally shaking.

And when you have a sundae bar, which includes not only chocolate sauce, caramel, and fun sprinkles, but also coffee ice cream, then you are officially having the Best Wedding Ever.

Of course, the best part was seeing my friend Sharon so very happy.

I figured I had better include this photo since I held up the entire reception to take it.  They were being called to the dance floor for their first dance while my camera took its sweet time.

Mazel tov!

Hey! I went to New York!

First, let me tell you that the flight was pretty stellar.  The getting delayed by over two hours, one and a half of which were spent sitting on the plane at the gate, I could have lived without.  That delay was caused by "some weather" over Pennsylvania, which was jamming up traffic over New York.  I think we have this same weather though to thank for the show I was treated to in my window seat.  We flew through the most amazing clouds I had ever seen.  It looked like the Grand Canyon if it were made entirely of snow and lit orange from underneath.  Really just indescribably beautiful.  Then we flew directly up the center of Manhattan, length-wise, and close enough to be able to identify individual buildings.  And that, my friends, was worth the price of admission.

Then Angela picked me up and we sat in traffic forever.  The end.

Not really!  We got to Jon and Vanessa's around 10 and they, God bless them, had ordered pizza.  Then Angela and I slept on their giant air mattress.  It was very comfortable, but sharing a three foot tall air mattress is an interesting business.  Because when the other person gets up, it feels as if you've just been deserted on the teeter-totter.

On Saturday, we went to breakfast at IHOP.  In Harlem.  No, Bill Clinton was not there.  I was surprised too.

Then we went to the Natural History Museum.  They have a suggested donation of $15.  They phrase it that way too: "Fifteen dollars is suggested."  Do you think people make them counter-offers?  "I suggest two dollars."  Could they argue with you? 

They have lots and lots of taxidermied animals, which makes it feel, as Vanessa pointed out, like you're walking through a zoo where everything is dead.  Less action perhaps, but none of that pesky animal stank.

After we left, we were quite sleepy and decided to seek out some caffeine.  And a Jolt employee boy on the street just handed us this:

 

Which just goes to prove that old adage: you should never drink things handed to you by strangers, you giant idiot.  It tasted like the syrup at the bottom of a blue snow cone and I still needed a latte in order to be any semblance of awake.

And then I died and went to food heaven.  Also known as Little Italy.

I honestly don't know how many chocolate cannoli I ate.  I tried to buy six, but when I said I wanted half and half of the two kinds of filling, the woman took that to mean six of each and I left with twelve cannoli, which we had for dessert and breakfast and dessert and breakfast and...you get the idea.

On Sunday Angela and I went to Sharon's wedding.  Which will get a whole post of its own.  Tomorrow-ish.

And when we got back, there had been an addition to Jon and Vanessa's family.  His name is Jasper and he is oddly fascinating.

And then, Internet, I fulfilled one of the three goals that I set for myself to accomplish before this upcoming birthday.  These goals were: get a job in my chosen field, skydive, and try Korean food.  I still have about a month on that job thing and skydiving continues to be put off until I have some good health insurance, but I have officially tried Korean food.  Mmmm...dumpling soup.

On Monday, I left and spent over 10 hours in airports and on planes going from New York to Chicago, Chicago to Nashville, and Nashville to San Antonio.  Every one of my flights were delayed and I seemed to have been perpetually seated in the Passengers With Crying Children section by mistake.  The best thing I can report from that trip is that none of those planes crashed.  But I got there and things happened and I will post about those things...eventually.

Start spreading the news

I'm leaving August 3 / I've got to be a part of it for a day and a half or so / New York, New York.

I haven't been to New York in three years, which obviously is unacceptable.  Sharon has been kind enough to get married in New Jersey this summer, giving me the perfect excuse to go.  What a pal. 

I'll get to the City Friday evening and spend Saturday there before leaving for the Garden State on Sunday for the noon wedding.  If I can get a double chocolate cannoli, some gnocci a la vodka, and a frozen hot chocolate in during that time, I will consider my trip a success.  (Ha!  I said A double chocolate cannoli!  As if I am only going to eat one!)  And, you know, Central Park, a Broadway show, and whatnot. 

I'm pretty excited about Sharon's wedding too.  Not only because I have never before seen Sharon in a dress, although that certainly sweetens the pot.  Mostly because Sharon has promised that this will be quite the cultural experience for me.  While I have attended roughly one million weddings, they have all been of a Christian persuasion.  This will be my first ever Jewish wedding and Sharon tells me that they are doing it "really Jewishly".  Awesome.

And then I leave New York the next day to fly to yet another wedding, this one in San Antonio.  In August.  So pleasant.  Sadly, I will not be flying for free, courtesy of the flight vouchers that Sharon generously offered me seeing as how Air Tran would only fly me to Dallas or Houston.  Stupid Air Tran.  Yeah, I said it.  But I will be dressed for free for this wedding since the red dress will be making its third trip down the aisle.  It is the Liz Taylor of bridesmaid dresses.

This wedding will also represent a new experience for me since it will be my first go at being a maid of honor.  There aren't, like, cleaning responsibilities associated with that, right?  Being maid of honor means that I will have fulfilled pretty much every female wedding role there is, except for bride.  I have also been a flower girl, rice girl (I handed out packets of bird seed), guest book attendant, reader, and bridesmaid.  If there were wedding action figures, I would have collected them all.

My second maid of honor experience will follow shortly thereafter at Amy's wedding in September.  Affording me the opportunity to fly to Portland, visit two new states (Oregon and Washington) and finally see the Pacific Ocean!

Really I am pretty much happy to be flying anywhere.  No matter how happy I may be with wherever I may live, I have a compulsive need to leave it fairly regularly.  But if my next friend who wants me to come to her wedding could get married in, say, Greece, all the better.

Painting the town pale pink or perhaps a nice shade of mauve

I thought that maybe I wouldn't be able to get this post to you until afternoon.  After all, I have been gone from work for five days now.  Surely some things would have stacked up.  Ha!

Having five days in a row off was pretty outstanding.  Having Katie to hang out with was also pretty stellar.  And we even got to do some fun Austin stuff that I hadn't quite made it around to yet.  All in all, quite the long weekend.

We focused our efforts in a few key areas: talking, shopping, eating, drinking, and Trivial Pursuit.  (It is not important here to note that I won two out of three games.  The important thing is that we had a good time and learned new and different useless information.  Also that I did not lose as much as she did.)  All of the talking made me realize how little I generally talk in the course of a day.  Not that I am not generally hyperverbal in the form of lots and lots of emails, but talking out loud, not so much.  My throat was actually sore by Thursday night.  Good thing I planned ahead and had something soothing on hand, for medicinal purposes.

We began the first full day of Katie's visit with a pilgrimage up I-35 to that venerable Austin landmark, Ikea.  Ok, really I just needed to go to Ikea and I imagined that going in the middle of the day on a weekday would mean that I-35 wouldn't be overly infuriating.  I was, of course, wrong about that, but Ikea was lovely as was its neighbor, the Round Rock outlets.  We dined at that noted Austin eatery, Ikea.

But day two!  Oh Internet, day two was an Austin extravaganza!  The UT campus!  LBJ Presidential Library!  The capitol!  The bats!  Lunch with Willie Nelson!  Ok that last one is not true!  But I did finally get to see the animatronic LBJ.

And then we ate at Cuba Libre, where the mirror in the ladies' room told Katie what she already knew.

Saturday was more shopping, but this time in hip and trendy SoCo.  Also Target and Walmart, but shut up, Internet, I had errands to get done and a Walmart giftcard from work which I would like to use on storage ottomans which I was hoping they would have in the store but which you can apparently only get online.  Katie bought some really cute shoes in a cute shop on South Congress which, when contrasted with the less cute but more walk-home-from-work appropriate shoes I got at the outlet, really just highlight the difference between us.

That photo also really highlights the way that my feet are three sizes larger.  Outstanding.  And yet, Katie's choice of airplane reading material, when placed next to what was on top of my mail pile proves that we're not so different after all.

Then came Saturday night.  We had plans for Saturday night.  Plans to dress up and curl our hair and hit the town for drinks!  In bars!  With people!  I think it was around the time that we were both falling asleep in our Thai food that we decided that pajamas and Trivial Pursuit were ever more appealing.  I would apologize for disappointing you and yet I do not sense that you are surprised.  I should emphasize here that there were chocolate peanutbutter bars at home.  You try talking yourself into going out under such circumstances.

I would just like to point out here that I was called a geek for turning on the History Channel after What Not to Wear was over on Saturday night.  I was called a geek by a person who was, at the time, reading a Newsweek.  I pointed out that if she watched more educational television, perhaps she wouldn't lose at Trivial Pursuit so much.

It was a good thing we stayed in since we needed our rest for Sunday!  So that Katie could get some Culver's frozen custard in.  (In true Katie fashion, she actually thought to check online ahead of time so that we could schedule our meal there to coincide with the best flavor of the day.  She's a planner.)  And so that we could go to the mall with Amy and also spend time reading in the sunshine in the back yard.  And, um, play more Trivial Pursuit.  And, uh, wow is that really all we did on Sunday?  I think there might have been a lot of HGTV.

So, ok, we needed our rest for yesterday when we covered ourselves in 45 spf sunblock and headed out to Barton Springs.  It is a natural spring and therefore VERY COLD.  Good thing it is already hot as hell here in Austin.  Katie and I took our time, inching forward and keeping each other posted about how we felt about the coldness of the water.  Roughly one hour later, we were in up to our shoulders (if I am exaggerating the time, it is not by much).  I would show you how tan I've gotten except you wouldn't believe that this current skin tone represents "tan" unless I showed you my tan lines and this is a family blog.  Sort of.

We later rewarded ourselves for our hard work with Mexican food and large margaritas.  One of us had a trendy frozen pomegranate margarita and while I promised not to name names, I will tell you that it was not me.  By the time we got home, Amy had freshly baked chocolate chip cookies cooling, and thank goodness, because we had finished the chocolate peanutbutter bars and had been suffering a critical shortage of homemade sweets for upwards of twelve hours.  (Amy: are you sure you do not want to move to Madison with me?)

I took Katie to the airport very early this morning while making every effort not to speed so that I would not be pulled over in my pajamas.  She had work with her and has no doubt already accomplished more work while on the plane than I will have to do all day. 

Seeing as how I have lately become unaccustomed to being awake at such a barbaric hour as it is now (10:30 am) and I therefore cannot think of a conclusion for this post and my public is anxiously awaiting an update (by "my public" I of course mean "Sharon") I will just say that it was a completely marvelous weekend and now I must go and caffeinate myself.  For tonight it is the finale of Gilmore Girls and Amy and I have tasked ourselves with finishing the bottle of vodka.  Perhaps some of Katie's goal-orientedness has rubbed off on me after all.

Bringing Sexy Back

So what if Amy is not getting married until September?  She leaves Texas next month, so we moved the bachelorette party up just a tad.

 

We had dinner at the house, Amy opened presents, and then we headed downtown.  I have to say that when you've known someone this long:

it is a little bizarre to then be buying that person a devil horn veil and other racy items.

 

But when you've known someone that long, it makes it all the less surprising that the person will accept a dare involving dancing on a platform, even if there is no one else on the dance floor at the time.

Sorry about the photo quality.  It was real foggy in there. 

That place gave us a free bottle of champagne for being a bachelorette group.  I have to recommend that on any girls' night out, one of you wear a cheesy veil.  It pays for itself in no time.

I also recommend, if at all possible, going out to bars with your twin sister.  It really messes with the drunk guys.

Hmmm...I am realizing that there is not so much else that I can actually tell you about Saturday night.  I will tell you that the person who sustained a post-bars walking down the street injury was, for once, not me.  I will also say big love to Melissa for being our d.d.  Way to take one for the team.  A note to all of the kids out there: always designate a driver and if she drives a Lexus, so much the better.

Anyway, here's to the happy couple.  Joe, best of luck to you and your blushing bride.

Happy, happy wedding, Amy.   (Please remember that if you kill me for posting this photo, you'll have no maid of honor and will have to get married at the prison instead of Mt. Hood.  AND you'll have to pay the entire May rent.  Is it really worth it?)

I don't really like to talk about my flair.

Count 'em - 15 pieces.

Lisa, Jenny, and Krystal hosted a party on Saturday which required guests to dress as a character from a movie. 

Here, Krystal demonstrates that a side ponytail is practical AND stylish.  I bet she's going to get some good use out of that imitation Caboodle. 

I didn't get a photo of Jenny, who in a bold move, went as Jenny.  From Forrest Gump, that is.

Remember how Penelope Cruz wore glasses in Sahara to demonstrate that she was a scientist?  Melissa wore my glasses on her head to demonstrate that she was Penelope Cruz in Sahara.  Based on this photo, you would have no idea that Melissa is suffering from The Plague.  People should not be allowed to look better sick than I do well.

Lisa went as Elle Woods from Legally Blonde.  I think she just wanted to look nicer than the rest of us.  Unfortunately, she was not able to convince either cat to dress up as a purse dog.

There you can see Matt and Marcus in the background.  Matt came as John Wayne and Marcus as an Urban Cowboy.  They quickly learned that showing up together dressed as cowboys would lead to innumerable Brokeback Mountain jokes.

Fewer people got Amy's costume, which is unfortunate since it was brilliant.  She is Olive from Little Miss Sunshine.  The resemblance in uncanny, except for the extra three feet in height.

And you?  Who would you have dressed up as, had you only been so fortunate as to have been invited?  Maybe you'll try a little harder next year.  We are not above bribes.

Give it away, give it away, give it away now.

Last Saturday was the Second Annual Post-Christmas Regifting Party.  Once again, there were some craptastic gifts to be had.  Let's start with mine, shall we?  I received this:

Yes, an entire CD of the Macarena!  It is non stop, people!  Eight entire versions of the Macarena.  And can you read there in the yellow where it says that it contains the longest version of the Macarena?  Because if you're anything like me, all of these years you have been thinking if only the Macarena were darn near eight minutes in length!  Now, my friends, that dream has become a reality.

But the hits just keep on coming!  If you read this post, then you know that Jenny had a spare wedding dress lying around, which she included with several other lovely items in the gift bag that she offered.  Seeing as how Amy just got engaged, she was very excited to try it on.  All set for your wedding, Amy!

The rest of the more, eh...interesting gifts of the evening shared a common theme.  I bring you the religious regifts of 2007:

Yes, that's right.  This candle has the aroma of Christ.  How does Christ smell, Blake?

Yikes!  Perhaps when it comes to religious gifts, it's better to stick with a nice action figure.  I suspect you can have this one when you pry it from Matt's cold dead hands.

It even comes complete with stats.  Moses had a terrible ERA.

And finally, a little light reading for Melissa:

Oh, comically bad gifts, how you never cease to entertain us!  And what did I regift?  I'll never tell.

Vegas, baby! Shibuya!

We arrived in Vegas Thursday night, immediately greeted on the way to our hotel room by two drunk guys shouting "Hello, hot chicks!"  We felt sure that we would enjoy our stay here.

Then, Friday morning, the two Hollys met.

The space-time continuum was not disrupted, so we celebrated with sightseeing and overpriced Starbucks.  That night there was a wedding rehearsal which was blessedly short as it was outdoors in the 20-something windchill.  Afterward we ate and drank.  And drank.  And possibly sent some text messages.  Oops!

Saturday was the wedding.  So I got my hair done.

It cost $75 and so let us look at it from another angle.

I think, for that price, we should all keep on admiring it.

Then Holly and Adam got married.  And ate cake.

 

After the reception, we changed clothes and went to the Big Apple Bar at New York, New York. 

 

Where the waitress asked me, despite the fact that I was sitting between two girls, whether I was the one who got married.  Then she carded me.  Apparently I appeared to be some sort of child bride who was in a pretty good mood after having been already deserted by her brand new husband.

Drinky

Drink

Drunk

Then, no longer minding about the cold, we walked to the Bellagio to see the fountain.

On the way back to New York, New York, I fell directly on my ass.  Holly and I were walking arm in arm at the time, so either I am a kind drunk and let go of her or she is a mean one and let go of me.  Not only were the red apple martinis interfering with my already subpar coordination skills, I was wearing irresponsible shoes and there was water on the sidewalk and one of those Slippery When Wet cones.  Normally this would have been a little humiliating, but there on the Strip I think it just really made me fit in.  So no harm done to my pride but I think I may have cracked my tailbone.  It didn't hurt until late the next day, but then it sure did make the two and a half hour plane ride less fun than it otherwise might have been.

Then back at our hotel, we watched The Dynamite Band.

 

Which was truly hilarious.  The Violent Femmes a la Kip.  Madonna as performed by Deb.  Good times.  Sadly, you can't see Deb's fanny pack in that photo or really see Napoleon on drums at all. 

When I woke up Sunday morning, I discovered that the $75 hair had not moved.  Naturally, I documented this for you.

While I am apparently not quite awake enough to be bothered with opening both eyes all the way, there is obviously no hangover.  Amy thinks it has to do with the extra oxygen pumped into the casinos, but I think I finally just learned my damn lesson about drinking enough water.  Either way, yay!

After removing 38 bobby pins and using an entire bottle of hotel shampoo, I was back to regular hair in time for sight-seeing.  SA roommate Holly and I visited many hotels on the Strip, including the MGM Grand, where we discovered a restaurant bearing the name that is our new favorite exclamation.

Shibuya!

That evening, we returned to our hotel for dinner before leaving for the airport.  We decided, what the hell, we would have steak since really what was a few more dollars and a little more cholesterol at that point.  We had spent the weekend discovering what the Vegas slogan really ought to be: What happens in Vegas stays ON YOUR ASS.  Seeing as how we had only each gambled $1 (we lost), the bulk of our Vegas experience revolved around empty calories.  Apparently we still looked good enough for the drunk men of the Orleans casino, judging by my favorite pick-up line of the weekend: "Hey!  I'm single!"  Can't imagine why, drunk guy, with smooth lines like that.

Then we came home. 

The end Shibuya!

Tonight we're gonna party like it's 1979

It's that time of the year again, folks.  That's right, company holiday party time!  This year was exciting for me since it was my very first fancypants big deal office holiday party.  Twice I went to work for companies that had previously had huge and legendary bashes every year, right up until the year that I started working there.  Then both instituted cost-cutting measures that led them to scale back to an on-site during the work day wine/beer/appetizer event.  So we got to leave our desks for a little while and socialize on company time, but it's not quite the same, is it?  Then for the past couple of years I was working at a business so small that our holiday party was a potluck held at the home of one of my coworkers.  Which was nice, but you know, lacking in fancypants accoutrements.

Then I got my invitation to this year's party: dinner, casino tables, a live band, FABULOUS PRIZES!  And the attire was listed as cocktail/holiday, giving me an excuse to finally wear the little black dress that had been passed on to me by my sister.  (One of two that she gave me, actually.  Need another fancypants event.)  I was also looking forward to the annual tradition of watching someone make a drunken idiot of himself, possibly by repeatedly embracing the CEO or by engaging in frequent and extensive PDAs with a date who was generally assumed to have been paid for her services.  Unfortunately, this year was drunken embarrassment free.  I considered filling the void myself, but the two drink tickets I was issued didn't quite do the trick there and I did not even see the CEO around.  Nor did I have the foresight to bring a prostitute to the party.  Foiled again.

But I did have the chance to practice gambling just in time for my rapidly approaching trip to Vegas.  I won big, Internet!  And let me tell you, if only my winnings had one single thing to do with skill or luck on my part, I would be feeling very confident about my ability to gamble my way to financial freedom.  But no.  The thing was, these dealers were being exceptionally generous to all of us, it not being actual money and all.  I, in particular though, could not lose with the one dealer.  And he possibly also dropped some extra chips in front of me when he walked by later.  Yes, the theory was advanced that perhaps he could see down my dress, but I don't really think that was the case.  Maybe he was just hoping that I would amend the drunken humiliation scene to insert "blackjack dealer" into the role of "working girl".  Sadly, I don't think just being the blondest girl at the table or the only one in a strapless dress is going to have the same effect in Vegas.  Not that it did me much good anyway because I still did not "win" enough to get any fabulous prizes at all.

Then there was the live band.  Oh, readers, the band.  I will say this for them: they committed.  They were doing cheesy covers of unfortunate 70s music but did this stop them from dancing around and really getting into it?  It did not.  Even when covering Air Supply.  Now that is showing some dedication to one's craft.

All in all, quite the evening.  You just can't beat some free wine, easy gambling, and the chance to watch your coworkers stuff themselves into dresses and dance around to the dulcet tones of a Carpenters cover.  Here's to you, office holiday party!  May your bands always be cheesy, your casino dealers dishonest, and your pants extra double special fancy.

In which it is revealed that I am a party animal

Ok, that is not true.  I am no kind of party animal nor (as this post may imply) am I an accomplished drinker.  But I did go out two entire times this weekend!  And consume margaritas all three days!  I know!  BEAT THAT, INTERNET!

On Friday, Lissa was in town to meet up with some college friends.  And since they are all happily coupled, she asked me to go along, and who am I to force a fellow single girl to go alone into an all couple social situation?  Plus she said she'd buy my drinks.  Starting of course with margaritas with dinner.  Followed by drinks at a bar which included, I kid you not, Jell-O shots.  I would have thought that there would be some sort of age ceiling on Jell-O shots at which point a person is too old to consume them.  Maybe it is 30.

The getting carded situation has developed a new wrinkle and I am not sure how to take it.  See, I still always get carded but now the bouncer/waitress/bartender looks SHOCKED upon seeing my birthdate.  Taken aback even.  Like the girl at CompUSA who kept remarking at how good my laptop looks for being SO CRAZY OLD!  (It is almost 4.)  Apparently all of the trips to Starbucks have kept my laptop and I extremely well preserved.  I guess that is only on the outside though, since my laptop is not currently working.  And clearly neither am I!

Anyway, Lissa informed me that Saturday night was Matt’s Bottomless Margarita Party, which we had been eagerly anticipating ever since Matt, having found out that a person can rent a margarita machine, decided to host such an event.  So I not only left my house on Saturday, I drove all the way to San Antonio!

(Short digression: While en route to SA, I was tailgated by a black Dodge Magnum which then proceeded to weave lanes, flagrantly tailgate everyone else and still not get any farther than me.  As I passed him while he was driving less than two feet off the bumper of the car in front of him, I was compelled to shout YOU ARE AN UNSAFE DRIVER!  Ooooh, that showed him!  Stay on my good side, Internet, lest I unleash such a caustic verbal tirade on you!)

I drove to Lisa and Krystal’s house to do my hair, pet the cats, and scam a ride downtown.  We arrived at Matt the Lawyer’s urban hipster loft where there were chips and queso and the margaritas flowed like wine!  Except frozen!  And from a machine!  So they flowed more like soft serve ice cream, but probably wouldn’t have been good in a cone.  Or with Lucky Charms on top, which is a dessert that I invented in college thanks to the proximity of the soft serve machine to the cereal dispensers.  Magically delicious!

There's no good story behind last night's margarita consumption.  Amy and I are still working our way through the leftovers from my Birthday party.  Apparently we vastly overestimated our friends' lushiness.  And since pre-mixed margaritas are a terrible thing to waste, we are now doing our part to reduce waste in Austin by finishing the bottle.  Bottoms up!

In which "drove a tank" is not a euphemism for anything.

I really did drive a tank once.

A friend of mine in college, Jason, was in the National Guard.  His unit was having a recruiting day and Jason invited me as well as our friends Heath and Kathy.  You should know that by inviting us, Jason was in no way advocating that we actually join the National Guard.  See, during Basic Training Jason developed some sort of foot problem which the Army doctors decided would be best treated by removing both of his big toenails.  I don't care who you are, that procedure is going to sour your military experience.  Anyway, Jason invited us knowing that in order to persuade us to join up, the Fort Atkinson National Guard was going to let us drive its tank.

So Jason and some buddies arrived at our dorms in a camouflage Humvee that Saturday morning to pick us up.  We were shown to the recruiter's office and he started out by asking Heath, Kathy, and I why we were interested in joining the Guard.  Crickets chirped, tumbleweeds rolled through the office, and finally I answered "to get money for college!"  Heath and Kathy audibly exhaled and then agreed.  Yes, Sir we were there for the college money. 

The recruiter went into his spiel which included explaining to us that we could be helicopter pilots in just 52 weeks!  Now, my math skills are certainly not what you might call "top notch" but even I realize that 52 weeks equals one year.  Is this fooling people?  Are there really folks three months into pilot school thinking, "Dagnabit, I thought sure I'd be a pilot by now!"

Then he asked Heath whether he liked to blow things up.  Heath surprised us all by answering no, he didn't really like to blow things up.  When I asked him about that later, Heath told me that if he'd said yes, the guy would have put him in the Infantry.  Yes, Heath, except WE'RE NOT ACTUALLY JOINING.  We kept a close eye on him after that, just to make sure he didn't accidentally sign anything.

So after our meeting with the recruiter, we got to throw some fake grenades and play a video game with a fake bazooka, and then finally it was the moment for which we had gotten out of our dorm loft beds before noon on a Saturday...time to drive the tank.  Actually I believe it was called an Armored Personnel something (Vehicle?  Carrier?  I don't know.)  We were loaded up standing in the back of the tank and given helmets and then driven through residential Fort Atkinson to a park.  And then they let us drive.

Heath went first and then I think I was next.  It's a pretty bizarre experience since you can't actually see where you're going.  Jason stood behind us and told us which way to go, when to speed up, slow down, etc.  It was fun.  Or at least we thought that part had been fun.  Then it was Kathy's turn to drive.

Kathy didn't have a car at college, so we hadn't realized that she was, in fact, the worst driver ever.  I know that you are thinking that I am only under the impression that Kathy was the worst driver ever because I don't know [insert name of person] whom you know is certainly a much worse driver.  I respect your opinion, and yet you would be wrong.  Kathy may be an excellent driver today (I doubt this) but we were 19 at the time and Kathy hadn't been allowed to get her license until she was 18.  And since she didn't have a car, she'd had gotten very little practice since that time.  With the result that when Kathy drove up the small hill in the park, she heeded Jason's advice to gun it going up and then ignored his advice to let off the gas at the top.

The tank was briefly airborne.  Yes.  Tank.  Airborne.  I shit you not.

Our feet left the ground and our helmets flew off.  Now that is fun in a tank.  Shortly after that, Jason told us that the neighbors had complained too much and they were no longer allowed to take people out tank driving.  I can't say for sure that it was Kathy's driving that did it, just that it is one heck of a big coincidence.

And that is the story of how I managed to drive a tank.  Coming soon...Birthday weekend photos!  I am a little disturbed now, realizing that my 30th Birthday is just 52 weeks away!  That's like, what, a couple of months?

I like cake.

This weekend I went to yet another wedding.  How do I do it?  This was my around my 30th wedding overall.  Apparently I'm a pretty popular girl among the about-to-get-married set.  And as I looked around at my friends as we danced to yet another Abba classic, I thought to myself, this is easily the 5th time I've danced to this very same song with these exact same girls.  Which is why I have nothing left to wear to these things. You San Antonio wedding people (you know who you are) will just have to deal with seeing repeat outfits from now on. 

Except I don't have another wedding until January.  It is the wedding of my friend and former DC roommate, Holly, hereafter known as the Turbo Coolest Bride in the World.  Why is Holly such a cool bride?  Well, to start with, she is getting married in Las Vegas.  (Extra points would have been awarded for a drive-thru and/or Elvis chapel, but I suppose this pretty lakeside thing will be ok too.)  I've never even been to Vegas, so I am extra double special excited about it.  Any Vegas-related tips or advice would be appreciated.  So far I've been told to get myself to the Paris bakery for some bread and if I don't hear otherwise, I may stay there for the entire non-wedding portion of my trip.  Mmmmm...baguettes.

Second, as a bridesmaid in Holly's wedding, I will be spending exactly $0 on my dress.  How is that possible, you ask! Because Holly has selected a color from David's Bridal and allowed us to choose our own dresses.  A color which my sister already has!  What are the chances of that?  Pretty good because she has them all!  And while Holly is all cool and "you can even wear it in whatever length you want" I'm thinking she didn't have "dragging several inches on the ground" in mind as an acceptable length, so there will have to be some hemming.  Or platform shoes.

But I digress.  A lot.  Back to last Friday's wedding and a picture of the cake which was baked, decorated, and constructed by my friend Jenny.  It astounds me a little that I personally know someone who is capable of doing this:

It tasted at least as good as it looked.  Maybe better.  And I bet most of you don't even know the best part of being friends with a baker, which is cake scraps.  There were three entire bowls of cake that was trimmed off this wedding cake to make it all flat and stackable.  And Jenny will let you eat these scraps with leftover frosting.  I reported for duty on Saturday afternoon.  (Warning: should you ever have the opportunity to partake of cake scraps and leftover buttercream, I guarantee that you will fill your bowl too full and as you near the bottom you will feel full and yet you will keep eating until you begin to feel quite ill and then you will KEEP EATING because it is just SO DAMN GOOD.)

Apparently cake baking is thirsty-fying work, as you can see in this picture of Jenny from the reception.

This was an especially impressive feat of wedding beverage consumption considering that it was a cash bar and Jenny only paid for one glass of wine.  The key here was to sit with a bunch of people who don't drink and then take their champagne and their wine that the waiter brought around.  Or to wait until they left the reception early and keep telling the waiter that they were there, possibly making him wonder how it was that these people appeared at the table just long enough to down a glass of champagne and then disappear before he came back around.  So maybe he thought we were sitting at a table with a bunch of cagey lushes.  In any case, free drinks were had and I was not forced to test the limits of wedding etiquette by asking if I could open a tab on my credit card.

So the wedding was a huge success, cake-, booze-, and dancing-wise.  Oh, and two nice people got married.  And here's to the bride and groom, now home in their large apartment in Manhattan.  May you have a long and happy life together and always let me sleep on your couch in New York for free.  Cheers!

To the batcave! Er...bridge.

Last week Amy's mom visited.  So we went here.  Voluntarily!

We did not realize that we would require supplies to stand around for 20 minutes watching bats fly.

Or that we should have dressed for picking up men!  Bats--the most romantic of the flying mammals!

Then the bats came out.

Lots and LOTS of bats!

Bats that peed on Amy's arm!

Oooh, they are spooky after dark!

 

I foolishly assumed that there was no need for insect repellent in a place surrounded by 1.5 million (seriously one and a half million!) bats.  Did I get a mosquito bite?  No, I got five.  Thanks a lot, bats.  I was actually a little concerned that they may dive-bomb me due to the mosquito swarm that had apparently enveloped me.

In unrelated news, I started the temp gig today.  Data entry, no problem.  The only thing is, the desk is so tall that in order to get in proper typing position, I have to have the chair so high up that my feet don't touch the floor.  Tres professional.  Also, I was told that I could bring my i-pod or mp3 player since the entering of the numbers gets a bit tedious.  But my mp3 player is broken, so tomorrow I will be kicking it old school with a discman!  A discman with a busted cover thanks to a treadmill incident.  Corporate ladder, here I come!

Holiday Weekend Photo Montage! (subtitled: Cheater, cheater, pumpkin eater, too lazy to write an actual post)

Did you have a good long weekend, everybody?  I did!  First there was the luau:

With fancy food

and the limbo!

Here I am with my soon-to-be-roommate Amy

Gee golly I look short next to her.  Always have.  And then Sunday night there was farewell drinking at a nearby pub.  See how Amy and I, responsible designated drivers, are finishing a night of responsible drinking with very responsible ice water?

And Monday, the Memorial Day party, where normally we shake our heads as the boys injure themselves on the slip 'n slide. 

This year, for some reason, it was quite enjoyable.

What else did I do this weekend?  Oh yeah.

That vacuum there is a piece of history, kids.  Genuine vintage stuff.  It still has the sticker that says Thrift Town - Tested, Works NO GUARANTEE.  Yes, it makes a squeaky noise and sometimes smells like burning, but it works better than either of the two twenty-first century vacuums in our household.  And right in front, you see the final two boxes, the ones marked "Random."  I really wasn't kidding about that.  Add to that massive pile two end tables, one ottoman, one red table, and an inherited bedroom set complete with the world's largest dresser, and there you have my rather outrageously large collection of stuff.  Thankfully, we found out today that we've been approved to rent the house for which we applied, so we're good to go and as of Saturday will be doing our part to keep Austin weird.  (As opposed to what I've been doing here, namely my part to keep San Antonio fat.  Because the last I knew, we were neck and neck with Houston for Nation's Fattest City honors.  If I had my own restaurant or bakery here I would absolutely have bumper stickers made with the name and the catch phrase "Keep San Antonio Fat."  And now if you'll pardon me, I have to go trademark that phrase, just in case.  Because did I already get a google hit for animatronic LBJ?  Yes, I did.)

Oh, and last night was meatloaf night at my parents' house, which, yes, Amy, Holly, and I drove over thirty minutes for.  Laugh if you want, but it's really excellent meatloaf.  Sadly, I have no photos of that to share.

The Lion King: Now with Flying Sex!

We'll get to that in a minute.

Melissa called me yesterday morning (woke me up as a matter of fact, which I didn't end up minding since it turned out not to be Work calling to say "you have a student here waiting and despite the fact that no one told you that you had to come in early for a new student that we put on your schedule without telling you we are wondering why you are not here.") to ask me if I wanted a free ticket to see the Lion King with her.  And I said, "heck yes!" or the just-woke-up equivalent of "mmmmmm hmmmmm."  Turned out that she had also asked my sister Lisa and so we all convened at Melissa'