Now that was a weekend.

While most of my days off are spent watching DVDs, cleaning, cooking, and irritating my boyfriend, I did very little of any of that this weekend. Chris was here, and we had a blast.

Friday night, we went to our favorite Ethiopian place. On the way home, we stopped off at Albertsons so Chris could get some milk and, apparently, booze that is considerably less expensive than in Washington, and I realized I'd left my purse in the restaurant. Fortunately, the proprietor found it and kept it behind the bar for me. All was well.

On Saturday, we drove down to Point Lobos State Reserve, which some of you may recall is, in my opinion, one of the prettiest places in the country. We wandered around for a few hours, basking in the near-perfect weather (not too hot, not too windy), taking in the sights. We had a picnic lunch overlooking some tidepools, though a smiling park ranger cut our meal slightly short when he informed us that we were setting a bad example by not dining in a designated picnic area.

We drove up beautiful Highway 1 to Santa Cruz in the midafternoon to spend some time downtown. When the sun was starting to set, we went to a beach in Aptos. I enjoyed the sand on my bare feet and Chris made a pair of sand pants. Dinner was at Charlie Hong Kong, after which we were all pretty tired and decided to head home.

Sunday morning Chris informed me that he'd like to do some touristy activities, like driving across the Golden Gate Bridge. Kevin said he'd rather stay home, so we headed up in Chris's car. The bridge was the first stop, and it was lovely aside from all the crazy traffic at Vista Point (please hold your eye-rolling). I learned from my sister that North Beach was a zoo of a street fair, but we parked under a hotel on Washington and walked up Columbus to visit her candy store. We at lunch at a nice little place that wasn't insanely busy.

Chris's old friend just finished nursing school at USF, so we headed to Inner Richmond to hang out with her for awhile. We took a long stroll around Golden Gate park, stopping to watch (1) rock 'n' roll roller skaters and (2) drum circle hippies along the way. Then we got ice cream in fresh crepe cones, which was memorably delicious.

Next weekend I'll go see the Mountain Goats (and someone has claimed the ticket--story to come after the fact), then hang out with my mom. Apparently on a sailboat owned by someone who was a friend of my dad's.

Bleary-eyed, but awake.

This is how I greet my Saturdays. Before the normal time my alarm would jolt me out of bed and into the shower, I'm awake, and once I'm awake, there's no turning back.

I realize there's 80 miles of highway before me, full of swerving sports cars and careening RVs, glistening with the sun of every promising Saturday this state has to offer. I'm recalling the blue skies and groves of evergreens that overlook the churning bay, the dusty haze of wildflowers and overgrown brush, and the cool yelping of sea lions, all lazily sunning themselves. Their only traffic jam is atop the rock with the best sun exposure.

My lips are wrinkled from a night of open-mouthed breathing. My back is a little sore from my harsh mistress of a bed. Without my glasses, the AAA Bay Area map I have tacked to my wall is blurry even from two feet away. But that doesn't matter. Once we get out of here, my maps won't even know where we are.

Soon there will be blueberry pancakes and coffee. I hope the other two are on board.

Come on, now.

I offer a free Mountain Goat ticket and show companion--even a fucking ride to SF from San Jose--and not a word from any available and interested party. Not a word.

Fucking Internets letting me down again.

Someday I will write about my boring-ass life, but not tonight. Except to say that Veronica Mars season 1 reruns are on Wednesdays as of tomorrow, and you should be watching.

Preemptive strike: The Mountain Goats.

Hello to anyone in the SF Bay Area or anyone planning to be here on June 24!

Have I got a deal for you!

If you enjoy the fine sounds of the Mountain Goats, I have tickets to their Friday night show at Bottom of the Hill, and I want someone to go with me. This is a fairly open invite: my usual suspects have been kinda "eh" on the subject, but this should not preclude them from nabbing my extra ticket if they ACT FAST. Or even slow.

Please! Don't make me be a lonely loser! Be my friend! I'LL PAY YOU.

I got paid to watch "Star Wars."

Seriously. My entire company went this afternoon, and we got some cash for snacks. My boss and I went an hour early to reserve seats for everyone, which involved a lot of jackets. (My boss is--and I cannot overstate this--a huge Star Wars fan.) Did I mention that my job is pretty sweet?

I did enjoy it. It was about as good as the reviews generally say--the visuals are great; the dialogue is cheesy. Most of the characters were fairly flat for me, but Ewan McGregor was good. The first thing Darth Vader says and does once he gets the helmet is too, too much. Padme and Anakin make me want to vomit. This is probably the first and last time you'll see me write anything about Star Wars.

So now it's the weekend. I have some more Scrubs to watch, the first Twin Peaks DVD to finish, and the biopic about Peter Sellers to be annoyed by. I might attempt to henna my hair again; maybe it will take better this time. I also might catch some other movie at the Cinema Saver if they still have Sin City or something.

Other than that, I just need to try not to die, or to let my plants die.

Long weekend, short nights.

I didn't sleep much this weekend. I don't do well when I'm not in my own bed, for some reason. But it was all good because I saw some friends, I saw my brother, and I saw my mom. It was good times.

Jana and her new boyfriend Tom picked me up from the airport on Saturday. We headed immediately into North Seattle to pick up Chris and meet Josie and Christine at a Northgate Starbucks, which was mercifully air conditioned. (Seattle was hotter than San Jose that day, ick.) We sat around lamenting the heat for awhile before deciding what the plan was.

The plan ended up involving Jana and Tom picking up her new bicycle (and doing whatever else took them a few hours to do) and meeting us for food at Pete's Pizza. The rest of us piled in Josie's car and hung out at Chris and Jana's apartment for awhile before heading into the University District to meet up with Josie's boyfriend, Joel, order calzones, and pick up beverages from Safeway. Jana and Tom were still running late, so they agreed to meet us at Gasworks, where we were bringing all the food.

They showed up as the rest of us were polishing off our delicious calzones. Mine was the Florentine: spinach and chopped hard-boiled egg. Mmmmm. And also: so much food.

The evening was spent at Chris and Jana's, playing a game that I spent 20 minutes trying to explain to Kevin and failed, but was somewhat entertaining. I won, because apparently, I know what people think of me. Hah. Everyone left, Jana let me have her bed, and I talked to Chris until we were both about to pass out.

On Sunday morning, Chris and I both woke up early, and, expecting everyone else to appear at 10 a.m. for pancakes, visited PCC for some ingredients and coffee. The coffee was eh, and Josie and Christine bailed in favor of Jesus and stuff, then Jana and Tom didn't show up until almost 11. The pancakes, however, were delicious, as was the Naked orange juice and--apparently--the bacon.

Josie and Christine showed up about 30 minutes after I'd eaten some pancakes and were jonesing for some Agua Verde lunch. I didn't eat so many pancakes, so I managed to scarf down a bowl of vegetarian pozole (the corn grains, by the way, are hominy, Josie--my coworker from Mexico had some in her soup today and I asked), and it was delicious. Lunch was followed by a game of '90s Trivial Pursuit at Josie's apartment (Boo!), which I won by boring the crap out of my opponents. And by a lifetime of filling my head with useless knowledge!

My mom picked me up. She has lost a lot of weight since Christmas, so yay on her! We managed to stupidly drive through downtown Seattle on our way south, which was a mess because of Folklife. She made dinner and I was dead tired, but dinner was so good--baked tilapia, brown rice, and a ton of stir-fried vegetables. After dinner, Becky came over--her hair is cute!--and we went out for a night on the town. Or as much of a night on the town as you can have on a Sunday night in Olympia. We drank root beers and ate mozzarella sticks at Jake's, the local gay bar she's been spending her evenings in. The music was good, and the company was even better.

But I am lame and wanted to pass out early, so I made her take me home.

Sunday, my mom and I got a late start because I was coming down with a cold, but we browsed the local Value Village (50% off everything sale) and Goodwill ($0.99 orange tags). She found stuff, mainly for my brother, and I just looked. We went home and made soup, which I put too much black pepper in for her (though the perfect amount for me). I spent a little time with my brother, who is preparing for his second summer at Aspen with a new tux, new laptop, and new iPod. My mom and I watched "Hell's Kitchen," which was kind of painful and stupid. We went to bed early because my flight? Was at 6:40 the next morning.

And I got up at 5. It takes about 50 minutes to get from Olympia to Seatac. I made my flight, but just barely. I went directly from the airport to work and was in time for the weekly meeting. My boss thought it was insane that I didn't just take the day off, but I'd already made the arrangements and I was already up, so I figured it would be stupid to lose a day of pay.

I was so fucking tired, but it was a good weekend. Thanks to everyone who made it possible, and I hope I get to see the people I didn't see this time around some other time soon.

Oh, fuck. Summer in California means heat.

I don't like it one tiny bit. Hey, Seattle, think you can arrange temperatures below 80 degrees for me this weekend? That would rock.

This weekend, I had some movies. Kevin and I watched Kinsey together, which we both enjoyed, mainly due to the interesting subject matter. Unfortunately for me, the narrative structure was pretty much a predictable biopic with weak dialogue and character development, but the content and the acting mostly rose above it to make a nice movie.

Also, I watched The Pillow Book. I'm actually not sure why I thought I wanted to see that, but I have very mixed feelings about it, post-viewing. It was visually interesting--occasionally exciting, even, mainly due to a really hot young Ewan McGregor--but also gross in at least one particular spot, not to mention convoluted and boring. So I didn't really care for the movie, but Ewan McGregor gets four stars. Until he dies. Then, ew.

My side yard gave me a bit of a workout Sunday, because I cleared out some of the weeds and planted squash seedlings and green beans and pea pods. Yay. They are all going to die.

In other news of the stupid fucking yard, Kevin received a call from our landlord yesterday that the neighbors finally filed a complaint, and we had to, you know, trim the lawn. So he bought a weedwhacker and gave it a haircut. It's enough that the neighbors can shove it. I hate lawns. What a pointless thing.

We also trekked to Santa Cruz Sunday night, just for fun. There was forest romping, beach sitting, Charlie Hong Kong eating, and Kevin's mom visiting.

I will be in the PacNW this weekend, dividing my time between Seattle and Seaside, most likely. Hope to see some of you around.

The last show of the regular TV season that I care about is about to begin, so I am going to turn my attention away.

Summer begins...now.

That is, when the shows all go into reruns, the bad reality TV crops up, and the summer concert season is upon us. A great time to be alive, basically.

Aside from most assuredly seeing the Gossip for a 6th (or 7th?) time next Thursday, I just learned that the Mountain Goats are playing Bottom of the Hill two nights in late June, which I am so down for it isn't funny. Even if no one will go with me.

A handful of Bumbershoot acts have been announced, including Devo, Son Volt, Digable Planets, and the Decemberists, so that's not a bad showing. Full lineup in mid-June, I guess, so I can decide how much of it I need to pay for then. But I'll start hunting for good fares into Seattle Labor Day weekend and possibly take off that Friday.

I don't know how I managed to avoid this for so long, but I finally obtained and listened to a full Dinosaur Jr. record. Wow, that is some happy shit. I mean, it made me happy, not that it sounds cheerful or anything. The new Mountain Goats is also lovely.

Someone will come with, right?

Free will of the stars.

This post is in response to this week's Free Will Astrology, which I happily own up to getting via email every week...

SAGITTARIUS (Nov. 22-Dec. 21): ... As long as you cooperate with the unusual flow of fate, you will thrive. Here are some exercises to get you in the proper frame of mind: Picture yourself having the body of the opposite gender.

There's a thought. Walking around like I had external genitalia and could pee standing up while pretending these appendages hanging from my chest simply weren't there might create some odd interactions at work, though.

Hold a pen with your non-dominant hand as you write about your taboo fantasies.

I used to practice doing that first part in my pre-calculus lecture. My taboo fantasies should stay firmly planted in my mind, though, I think.

Gaze at yourself in a mirror that reflects your image from another mirror.

I love doing that! It makes me feel awfully self-obsessed, however.

Consider the possibility that there's something you really need but you don't know what it is.

I consider it often. In fact, I'm sure of it.

Make up a dream in which you change into an animal.

I've never been good at forcing dreams. I wonder what animal my unconscious would pretend to be.

Compose a prayer in which you ask for something you think you're not supposed to.

I'd have to think of what I'm not supposed to ask for first. I'm not supposed to ask for... things I don't need? things I don't want? things that can't reasonably occur? things with negative, unintended consequences? I ask for lots of things I know I won't get, but I'm not aware of a line not to cross where whatever higher power is concerned. I guess I'm too agnostic for this item.

I'm always vaguely amused and inspired by these horoscopes, but I never know what to make of them.

Our fabulous prizes.

I need to get out of here. A little mini-vacation is appearing very necessary, very soon.

And don't get me wrong, Washington people, but visiting in a few weeks won't be a vacation. It will be a lot of shuttling around and seeing as many people as possible. It will be a lot of transient face time and happy smiles and nice-to-see-yous. Not to sound unappreciative, because I do love you. Better than a family reunion, but not a vacation.

There is an unrelenting march of the increasingly familiar that drags from day to day until I just want to cry. The same stretch of highway filled with cars and drivers of dubious ability; a front lawn growing taller and taller; a mailbox full of advertising and things addressed to previous tenants. An office where I itch to spill red, purple, or green ink and log my time, just to justify my existence and meager paycheck.

I'm getting good at mediocrity, and there's no end in sight. I watch endless hours of TV, and I don't even get cable. I don't know where to go from here or when to start leaving.

Embracing my liberal anger.

I mean, I'm pretty much always angry at something. Sometimes it's a righteous anger, or an emotional/hormonal rage, but mostly it's just vague ire directed at, for example, other drivers or my neighbors I am afraid will try to bitch at me about the lawn in the 30 seconds I appear in front of my house every evening.

I've got a lot of the vague ire going on right now--I am having my period, which, while not an excuse, does tend to make things seem less rosy, ironically and disgustingly enough--but there's also some righteousness mixed in for good measure.

In case your eyes glazed over for the news that the Senate unanimously passed and Bush today signed $82 billion in war spending, anti-terrorism, and tsunami relief, let me enlighten you on one particularly unsavory aspect of this feel-good measure. The Real ID act is one Wisconsin Representative's underhanded way of slipping a national ID program into law. What's so bad about a national ID, you ask?

Well, I'm not smart enough to tell you, but I can link to a few people who are. I highly suggest you read up, at least a little, because this shit is going to affect everyone, and you should know what it is and how it can fuck you over.

Declan McCullaugh's FAQ of how Real ID will affect you is condensed and informative. His Politech mailing list is a great source of information and discussion on the subject, as well. Text of the law here for all those fluent in legalese. Google News rounds up the mainstream media coverage, which shows a remarkable lack of discussion on Real ID, while geeks with security and privacy concerns over at Slashdot and News.com pick apart the new law.

And it may just be my naivete regarding how the Senate works, but those Democrats quoted as being against Real ID who voted for it anyway? Where is their sense of dissent? Did they not learn in school that, for true/false questions, if even part of a question is false, the whole thing is false? Is it really so impossible to get a clean bill through Congress to fund things that evidently need funding, or at least a bill clean of major, divisive legislation?

No?

Wow, fuck the legislative process, then.

It's no fun reading fortune cookies to yourself.

Points to whoever knows the song.

Yesterday I had a henna experience. Henna is a much more awkward dye experience than, say, Manic Panic, and the results are more subtle. I tried to follow the Lush instructions to the letter, but I think I only tinted my hair a shade darker. It's treading chocolate territory, though I doubt anyone but me will notice.

For an hour and a half, my head was caked in what looked and felt like green mud and enveloped with sheets of cling film. It was squishy to the touch. The first rinse took awhile, and my hair was impossible to comb afterwards. The waxiness was so thick, I could barely style it into something less anime-freak and more just-having-a-bad-hair-day-greasy. But I let it stay that way for a few hours to see the full effect of the henna.

Three hours later, I was desperate to fix it, so I shampooed it. The waxiness was a little better, but not 100%, so a few hours after that, I applied probably 4 times the amount of shampoo I would normally use and let it sit for a minute before rinsing it out. The texture was fine and the color was somewhat apparent still, so I'm calling it good.

It's true I have no patience for things that are aesthetically displeasing.

The henna seemed only to stain the soap scum in my bathroom, which just highlighted the need to scrub it all down with Bon Ami. Which I did today, because Kevin would probably freak out if I didn't.

He's visiting his mom and sort of implied a desire to go alone because he doesn't go to see his family much without me anymore. When I pointed out that the last time he actually visited his mom--Christmas--I was in Oregon, he replied, "Hmm." We've seen his dad a few times, but not his mom. I can appreciate the desire to want to spend time without chatty ol' me, since he's quiet and tends to let me monopolize the conversation (I like both his parents, and we can talk about a lot of things that he doesn't care about). I only felt bad because I've been trying to get him to go to Santa Cruz for months, and he hasn't wanted to, and now that he has gone, he didn't want me to go. I just hope this doesn't make it look like I'm the reticent one.

Anyway, I really need to make some damn friends. Doing nothing with my free time is starting to wear me down.

This week's rentals: Home Movies: Season 1, disc 1, which totally rules; The Yes Men, a documentary about lefties who pretended to be WTO members and were responsible for the long-deceased WTO parody site; and Two-Way Stretch, an old Peter Sellers movie that was Kevin's selection and I probably won't watch.

If we get through this alive, I'll meet you next week, same place, same time.

Yes, Pulp's Common People has made it back into my frequent rotation. I know that's weird.

A potent combination of raw garlic and tahini still lingers in my mouth from last night's hummus, and I need to get my shit together for work, but I have the need to write some things down.

First, I was having this unsettlingly weird dream as I woke up this morning involving some kind of God-appointed, nukes-safe bunker in the middle of a huge lake that Kevin and I, as well as a hundred or so other people and a few pets, were permitted to enter when some rogue enemy nation announced they had nuclear weapons trained on us and, apparently, there was little we could do to retaliate. I think that was the least freaky part, though.

The way you got to this semi-submerged bunker was by swimming. If you didn't drown on the way over, you got to meet your maker, who decided whether you would live or die. Only I didn't know it was God until someone told me once we were inside. I laughed and said something about God being real and saving me, literally, after all my years of agnosticism.

There were many other creepy details I don't really remember. Everyone slept on giant bunkbeds and wore orange linen jumpsuits. Our hands were marked with a specific scratch pattern for re-entry. Fresh tomatoes were preserved in boxes and not jars. I'm not sure we had enough food to hold out for an entire nuclear holocaust.

Anyway, it was bizarre, and I hope it doesn't sit with me like this all day, because that would suck.

Margot is now 21 and hopefully not sleeping off too much of a hangover. I completely missed her friends and the one roommate I haven't met, but we had a good time. There was Thai food, delicious desserts from a bakery in Chinatown, visits to her candy store, a new Trader Joe's, and Cost Plus, and tons of walking.

We have Gossip tickets for the 26th, if anyone else wants to go to that, but Mike Doughty at Cafe Du Nord is sold out. I'd still like to see the Books if anyone, ANYONE has any interest. Opening acts include Casiotone for the Painfully Alone, so come on down.

For a few movies more...

Watching movies was about the only exciting thing I did yesterday. Yesterday was stupid. Today will be at least marginally better because I am leaving the house to go to San Francisco and celebrate my sister's 21st birthday.

The birthday is actually tomorrow, so depending on the pickiness of establishments, she is still a minor and unable to purchase or consume alcohol legally until then, but I doubt that will stop the festivities much.

I really enjoyed Sideways. I'm not much of a movie reviewer, and a lot of people have seen it already and had more intelligent things to say about it, but I did like it. I also liked The Anniversary Party, but not to the same extent. The making of that movie is a little more interesting than the plot, anyway: Alan Cumming and Jennifer Jason Leigh attempted to sell photos of their own fake wedding to the tabloids to fund it, for one thing.

My third DVD was from the HBO series, The Wire, and I have to say, I couldn't get into it. Maybe I just wasn't in the right mood for it, but I gave up.

Movies are fun.

Well, sometimes. Unemotional Holocaust movies like The Grey Zone aren't really fun, but The Incredibles is.

Possibly seeing seeing Star Wars Episode 3 with my entire office will be fun, but who knows. My boss is the biggest Star Wars fan I know, and somehow that translates to the entire company getting to take off an afternoon in June to go to the movies. Awesome.

Netflix finally sent Sideways. Woo! I also have The Anniversary Party and some other movie when they get The Incredibles tomorrow. If The Motorcycle Diary's long wait holds out, it'll be some TV show.

But mostly, I have been watching TV. VERONICA MARS TOTALLY RULES, YOU GUYS. Yes, I have to mention it in every post now. I am still excited from last night's revelations. It's so insane. I want it to be Tuesday again so I can see the next one. Aaaaaaaasdf. I can't even explain it in a way that doesn't make it sound totally stupid, but I swear, it's an awesome show. And it even got renewed!

God, I'm so boring. I don't even have a commercial to bitch about lately. I don't understand the sheep-boy smoothie Skittle commercial, though. It feels like a bastardized edgy comedy sketch.

Monday is my sister's 21st birthday. I'm gonna go up to San Francisco on Sunday and do some celebratory lunching, but I can't stay for the midnight drink-fest. I have work. You darn crazy kids.

Okay, I'm done. Tell me something interesting.

It is some strange conspiracy of fates that I was home before 6.

It's the same fates who decided that when my department at work would be inundated with work that, even with two people in the office, would appear overwhelming, my boss would be out of the office for three days and unable to do any of it.

I try not to discuss work here, but I'm just saying. I've been busy. It was an unfortunate miracle that I wasn't working overtime--unfortunate because it meant there was something so wrong with a project that it wasn't worth further testing until someone else could fix it, meaning nothing until Monday.

I have really got to figure out how to get exercise in a way that makes sense. Or get over at least one excuse. I know I've complained about this before. I really wish I lived in a city and could walk places; I hate this car-dependent, homogenous, engineered setup.

What I really want, though, is a renewal of the Bop of the Day project. A few years ago, my IRC channel, #n00n, had a private FTP site where about six of us uploaded a song or two every day, called the Bop of the Day or BOTD. I think we all collected a lot of decent and interesting music that way. It's the equivalent of an ongoing mix CD project, and I miss it.

You guys who aren't watching Veronica Mars are fucking missing out, by the way.

Let's see. I didn't review my third movie from last week yet, which was Hotel Rwanda. I don't have any intelligent thoughts on it. I cried for most of the movie because it was just that sad. It felt kind of like a horror movie plot with real events. It was a pretty awful thing to watch, and it was no doubt cleaned up considerably for the benefit of audiences and that PG-13 rating. Very affecting.

This week, I have more Homicide: Season 1, The Grey Zone, and The Incredibles. Yeah, what was that I said about not liking animation much? I think my sister would hate me forever if I didn't watch Pixar movies, though. They are good. More wholesome than my usual fare, but good. Miyazaki and Pixar are the exceptions to my "family-friendly animated films are dumb" rule. Except Monsters, Inc., which I didn't like much. Because I am heartless.

Whether or not I'll do anything productive this weekend remains to be seen. My house needs some cleaning and the yard needs some tending, although the latter aggravated my allergies horribly in last weekend's botched attempt. Anyway, I'm not keeping my hopes up for anything besides watching my DVDs and having pancakes and listening to This American Life tomorrow.

A bit about the monotony of everyday life.

There's getting up in the morning, driving to work, sitting at my desk, eating lunch, more sitting, driving home, being lazy, making dinner, and going to bed, only to do it all over again. Everyone knows this song and dance.

I have absolutely got to figure out how the hell to work in some exercise. I'd consider even a stupid workout machine dealie that I can stick in my room and use while watching TV. I've been perusing craigslist for such a device. I tried getting up early to walk around the neighborhood and jump rope, but it lasted for three days and I felt exhausted from getting up even half an hour earlier than usual. Going out after work is...unappealing, and I fucking hate the gym. Don't even suggest biking to work: it's 12 miles each way, fraught with danger, and I feel unsteady on a cycle. So while my diet is about as healthy as I'd like it to be (maaaaybe a few too many snacks, but even then), I am one of the bemoaned inactive Americans contributing to the obesity statistics you hear so much about.

Also, I blame living in the suburbs. The suburbs suck really hard in a lot of ways.

And I am full of excuses.

God, KQED is running calls from people suggesting their favorite places to run in San Francisco. Guilt, guilt, guilt. Running is bad with boobs, though.

I am, in a lot of ways, filled with loathing for my current situation, and though I'm not entirely powerless to get out of it, I feel a sense of obligation to keep at it, at least for awhile. Maybe things will improve, or I'll at least feel better about them.

Our lawn requires mowing (supposedly according to the laws of the City of Milpitas). We do not want to mow it because we are lazy and it is very, very tall. I refuse to do it; Kevin said he would, once, last Sunday, "after [he] eats." He ate after dark and went to work and did not mow the lawn. I think we should just hire someone, seriously, because fuck it. I also think people who rent houses should just hire people as part of the lease if they want things done right, but what do I know? I am just a lazy non-homeowner.

Finally, I watched two movies so far this week:

Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind, which I really want to watch with my nieces, for some reason, and think I would have loved to see as a kid. It's a nice little movie. Normally I have zero interest in anime, but I have loved all Miyazaki I've seen.

Bad Education, Almodovar's latest, which has a male lead character for once. (He may have other movies with a male lead, but I've seen more than a few of his movies and they all had female protagonists.) It's an interesting story involving a priest abusing a choirboy and breaking him up from his beloved peer, then writing a story about it as an adult. I'm not sure how it got the NC-17 rating, though, because the sex was no more explicit than a lot of R movies. Maybe because it was gay sex, that is somehow more graphic. Whatever. I'm over 17 and can watch whatever the fuck I want to.

Who likes music?

Anyone? Bueller?

Fri     04/22/05                 Pleaseeasaur             Hemlock
Sat     04/23/05                 Amy Correia              Bimbo's 365 Club
Tue     05/03/05                 Sloan                    Slim's
Wed     05/18/05                 The Books                Cafe Du Nord
Fri     05/20/05                 Mike Doughty             Cafe Du Nord
Thu     05/26/05                 The Gossip               Bimbo's 365 Club

Watching Vera Drake today made me cry. We Don't Live Here Anymore was only okay.

I have new bras. They are Wacoals. They are pretty damn nice.

I need to pick an internist at the Milpitas Kaiser facility within a week, or they will pick one for me. That sounds so ominous. I need to go use my benefits.

That is all. I am on the rag, but I was not incredibly sick today. That was nice.

Bad and good.

Bad: I set the DVD-R wrong last night and failed to tape Veronica Mars. This made me irrationally angry. Someone on TUS offered to send me a tape, but I am not sure it is necessary. Sweet of her to offer, though.

Good: Netflix let me report the mislabeled DVD as lost, finally, so this week I should get 3 DVDs again. Maybe Sideways. That would be great.

Also, my cupcakes were good. But also, evil. That's the trouble with things containing a pound of butter, four eggs, and a cup of sour cream. Yummy.

Cupcakes are made of death.

I swear these are going to kill me, anyway. The batter has a consistency approaching dough (drop cookie dough, anyway) and contains 1/2 cup butter and 1/2 cup full-fat sour cream. I don't know what the fuck I'll do with the remaining sour cream when the two batches are finished.

But HOLY GOD, do they look like they will taste awesome. Like artery-clogging awesome. What better way to honor a coworker who is about to have a baby? I can't think of one.

I don't know what to report about this week. It was a week. Work is starting to get busy. I was forced to socialize with coworkers Thursday after work and drank so much water, I thought I was going to explode. (Needless to say, almost everyone else was drinking something a little less hydrating.) Being a non-drinking semi-vegetarian makes for strange company in most circles.

Netflix is fucking up again, which is wonderful. Last week they sent Homicide: Season 1&2, Vol. 1, but disguised as Vol. 2. I had just returned Vol. 1 (not disguised as anything), so I did what I thought I was supposed to do: reported it as mislabeled and mailed it back on Monday with the other two movies. By Tuesday, Netflix had received the other two movies. As of now, they haven't received the mislabeled disc, but I can't report it missing, because apparently, if you report one problem, you're spent. No more problems are allowed. So I emailed customer service, but have yet to hear back beyond the confirmation message. Grrrr.

Maybe I will write more later, but that was about the extent of my week outside copious Tuesday-TV watching. Why must House AND Veronica Mars be so good and on at the same time? Why are Scrubs and The Office, which I would like to give a second chance, on then, too? And the goddamn Amazing Race? Fuck you, network programmers.