That is one smooth-talking showerhead.

Are you kidding me?

I have urges in my areas.

Alex was asking which Frantics clip "...and one more for Jenny and the wimp," was from...



But the funny thing that put it in my head was actually one of Wil Wheaton's posts. It was a total aside, but I don't think I've ever seen someone make a Frantics reference who wasn't Canadian (and even then, my count is up to ONE and it was another teacher in Japan who caught me muttering something about the glazed doughnuts...)

But someone in the comments section sent me this:



Whatever did we do before youtube?

I can't find some of my favorites ("Gas Station Washroom," "He's Wearing Nazi Paraphernalia," etc.), but I recall my dad was always fond of this one...

...and one for Jenny and the wimp.

Sometimes, coffee after 8pm is not a good idea. Actually, that's probably usually a good rule of thumb, huh?

And then when you do finally go to sleep, it's a lot of fun to wake up slightly after 5:30am anyway! Whee. On the plus side, I needed to catch up on some Netfux. Season 2 of Arrested Development is quite humorous at 6am.

Speaking of Netfux, two things. I could be really pissed that disc 4 of season 4 Project Runway has been at the top of my queue for at least a month (I mean, seriously, disc 4, really? Not to mention the fact I'm not even ashamed to be openly bitching about my inability to finish Project Runway...), but aww, look who finally decided to start shipping on Saturday. Something like, what, seven years later, but I'll take it.

On a completely random note, I never did mention that Australia kinda sucked. And it was enough of a wreck that I feel the need to address it 2-3 weeks later. Rock on.



When I wrote about it, I was halfway through and it was unfolding fairly decently. I really tried to give it the benefit of the doubt--you know, all that melodrama. But it just didn't work. Like, at all.

The reason I like [most] Baz Lurhmann films is the same reason I like Streets of Fire so much--they are so uniform in their over-the-topness. From the music to the characters to the dialogue...they sell themselves in all of it. Sadly, Australia just brings the melodrama to otherwise ordinary characters and a [more] realistic story (work with me here)--it just doesn't mix together nicely.

I have no problem with the length or the fact the story turns into at least three different stories...I actually usually really go for that, but it's nice when it's done somewhat seamlessly. Clint Eastwood's Gran Torino is an example of how this is done well. Australia does not do this so well. I tried to be patient, but I think I actually turned it off as the last five minutes unfurled. (It was the principle of the thing.)

Ok, back to looking for $40,000! Whee!

Terrible grunt

(from xkcd.com)

Well, well. I've never seen trash take itself out.

Today I need to take pictures of my house, which is sort of tricky. I want the room to be as bare as possible so people can imagine their own crap in it, but I also haven't packed everything yet (are you kidding?) and even if I had, then the rooms would just be full of boxes. I'll make it work. I just need Tim Gunn to step in intermittently, furrow his brow and go, "I'm concerned," or "It worries me."

I also have to put down a deposit for the second of the two universities I may attend, because I just can't make up my mind. I talked to two people at this university to pick their brains about classes for the dual degree for which I was accepted. I think it actually confused me more (who knew it could be done?). I also need to see about flying out to said university to look at cardboard boxes for rent. Housing, joy.

Oh, and then there's financial aid. I got the standard government maximum, which covers half of the needed funds. I got this from each university. While I'm still working both of them and telling each I've accepted, how does that affect fin aid? I need to accept it and get the rest from GRAD Plus or what-the-hell-ever private loan feels like giving me another 20K, but shouldn't I only do this for one university? And how quickly do I need to do it, considering I'm still vacillating between the two? I'd like to do it NOW because who wants to be short 20K when tuition comes due? Yeah, not so much.

And my second university will let me register this Friday--OMG. REGISTER? Like, for CLASSES?? Not only is that giving me hardcore UNT 8am-registration-via-phone flashbacks (shudder), but it majorly freaks me out. Probably because it will be MAY 1st and that suddenly makes August seem like tomorrow.

And if August is tomorrow, does that mean I should have sold my house yesterday?

And no, this does not mean I have started watching Gossip Girl.

Well. Ok, maybe it does.

Today's soup is Cream of I'll Kick Your Ass.

First of all, I had a great weekend. I wanted to blog about it beforehand, but it was a surprise for someone who reads my blog. He's busy getting his PhD at Columbia, but with my luck, that would be the week he checked my blog!

Drew, my old Tokyo roommate and one of my two best friends, had his 30th birthday this past week and his partner Luis was throwing him a party Saturday night. He sent out an E-vite a couple months ago and he and I decided I would fly in and be part of the surprise. For one thing, I am the last person to get to meet Luis, so it was nice to spend the day with him catching up. He is instantly lovable--oh, and did I mention he does cancer research and sings opera? Oh, me too. He has a great sense of humor and is very easy to be around; he is just perfect.

I have pictures and New York City always lends itself well to posts, but that will probably be the next post. First! Something completely different. I've been cleaning out the house as I pack and I found a media card from my first digital camera I bought in 1999. These pictures are from December 2002--I had been back from Japan for a month and my niece Fiona was still brand-new, not even a year old (she was born in February).

The pictures after the family pics are drastically different and are somewhat NSFW.

My apologies for the red eye, I'm on my laptop, which only has crappy programs for fixing that.







There were more, but these were the best 3.

Now, a couple months later I went back to Japan and stayed with my good friend Louisa. We both enjoy wine immensely. She is also a huge Chow Yun Fat fan, and someone gave her a Chow Yun Fat doll at some point. She also has a wicked sense of humor and various trinkets about the apartment.

So by "various trinkets," I mean a toy penis, a small stuffed sheep and duck. This was utterly hysterical at the time. Now, it's a VERY ODD THING to discover on your media card. (But it does still crack me up.)



It's a little blown out, but the duck is enjoying the show.



Nothing like a multi-species gang bang. (And Chow is flexing for his reflection, if you can't tell.)



Ah, wine.

[Editor's Note: So apparently, that is a chicken from Chicken Run, not a duck. Moo moo.]

Mind the gap

We are informed with brain-gelling regularity that new and social media (such as blogging) have dealt a killer blow to proper old-fashioned newspapers - see here for one creative response. (Thanks to JW-S for the tip.)

So how’s the health of this rampaging behemoth that has the blood of a thousand journalists on its hands? (Note to self - do behemoths have hands?)

Well, the Urban Woo has shut up shop, as has the Wastrel (formerly Spinsterella) and, it would appear, Bob Swipe; First Nations is on a virally-induced hiatus, and Patroclus is in a similar state (although she'd doubtless blame work and a bizarrely hued kitten). OPC? Nine-Tenths? It’s as if they’ve all spotted the precarious state of, say, the Chicago Tribune and decided they want a go.

Which leads to a tricky question: if newspapers are dying; and the things that killed them are dying; what’s going to fill the hole?

You're just jealous because in the past two minutes I've matured and you haven't.

A friend of mine was telling me about this in Japan, so I did a search and lo and behold...

For the record, I don't think this was around when I lived there...

Whatever

I haven’t posted here since Saturday. I could get all meta and ponder the socially acceptable time limit between posts (and the point at which people start wondering whether you’re dead). Or I could just stick this up, on the basis that what’s good enough for Graham Linehan is OK for the rest of us:

The wane of wax

Celebrated Record Store Day with a farewell trip to Beanos in Croydon, which is closing down and reinventing itself as an indoor market of some description. I've long had a soft spot for Beanos because it's where we got most of the vinyl that powered the jukebox we hired for our wedding in 2000 (the biggest single expense of the day, as far as I recall).

As I suggested a few weeks ago, with reference to Bangkok bookshops, it's difficult to assess a product's popularity by its presence or absence in a second-hand shop. If the five-for-a-quid rack contains, for example, several copies of 'Love Your Sexy...!!' by Byker Grooove, it might suggest that nobody wants it - but it also reminds us that someone once did.

I didn't buy it, but I did buy this:



(And no, I know it's not Coldcut.)

He dumped me at a restaurant. It was harsh. So was the lighting.

So this weekend is the Fort Worth Main Street Arts Fest, which I've never really bothered going to before. For one thing, I hate people.



For another thing, I normally just hit Denton's Jazz Fest, but sadly I'll be out of town when it rolls around this year. Also, since I practically live in Fort Worth, I thought I'd check it out. We stopped by Thursday evening, and I was really surprised!

Now, I love the Denton Jazz Fest, but some of the "art" tends to be...ok, tacky, kitschy, embarrassing. You know, not all of it by any means, and what is good is exorbitantly priced. The latter was still true here, but there were far more booths with cool stuff. Mostly with a somewhat obvious, demented theme, but enjoyable nonetheless. So it makes for some good wandering around. And naturally I forgot my camera. So I'll get some pics today.

The food wasn't quite as good as Jazz Fest--first of all, most of the merchants are downtown eateries, which is hardly anything new. Also, there is not a fried booth, and how is that bloody possible? However, there is a booth that sells these awesome mini-cake donuts, and I got to sample something my dad has always advocated: donuts and beer. Damn, it is indeed a wicked combination. Two very enthusiastic thumbs up.

We also hung out by the 9th Street Stage, and I saw two artists that really impressed me. The first was Ricki Derek and the Vegas Six. It was this jazzy, lounge-singer act--lots of Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, etc.--with plenty of tongue-in-cheek humor and borderline over-the-topness. It worked so well; the whole act was so charismatic and quite talented! I think the singer normally has his own big band, which I'm sure is good as well, and they often play at Scat Lazz Lounge downtown. I've only been once or twice, but I've been wanting a reason to go back. Ta da!



The second band, Odis, was really enjoyable, and I even bought their CD. Their first few songs reminded me of a Robert Rodriguez soundtrack, which was cool, and then the more songs they played, the more apparent it was they had their own sound. I admit I prefer hearing them live than the CD I bought--now that I listen to it on my ipod, I hear a few other bands coming through, of whom I'm not usually a big fan. But it was a really great live show, and they'll be playing at my Central Market's Outside Patio in a couple weeks (May 14), so again, twist my arm, I just may go.

I will definitely bring the camera today. Also, it pissed down rain all yesterday, but I'm pleased to see rain out of the forecast for the remainder of the weekend!

The Clement Freud Memorial Blogmeet...

...took place on a rainy night in Soho, and featured appearances by Billy, Llewtrah, Rockmother, Slaminsky and one's good self. Subjects touched upon included harpsichords, the general grooviness of Derek Griffiths, and what a shame it was that LC had chosen to stay at home with his Judy Garland records rather than joining us.

But the best moment came as we loitered outside the French House, a hostelry otherwise frequented by actors you sort of recognise from telly, except that the people you're thinking of are dead (in this case, the one who looks like Denis Quilley, but gayer, and the more ginger Ian Bannen). As we supped and ruminated, a gentleman whose liver had known better days came among us.

"I'll not lie," he announced, always a good start, "I'm asking for money so I can buy myself a drink."

Touched by his barefaced honesty, we each contributed a bit of fiscal shrapnel. And as he staggered away, Billy said:

"I'll be bloody pissed off if he goes and buys a cup of tea with that."

Brian's tie-in

I once worked for the man, no longer with us, who claimed to have invented the idea of reprinting books to tie in with TV adaptations (he’d been head of marketing at Penguin when The Forsyte Saga was on telly first time round). Obviously, a high-profile TV or movie (or even radio) version works wonders for sales, sometimes decades after a book first came out.

But if we accept that many book are purchased because they reinforce the desired self-image of the reader (the black-clad 19-year-old with a copy of Camus or Kerouac in his greatcoat pocket), are these TV tie-ins such a great idea? The movie version of Watchmen has prompted a lot of me-firsting, not just from people who read the book in the 80s, but also from those who read the original comics. Surely wielding a copy of Slumdog Millionaire or The Damned United with a movie still on the front brands you as a meek belonger, a pack follower, a Cloughie-come-lately?

Maybe publishers should just print dummy copies, with the movie poster on the cover, but blank pages inside, and deposit them on the shop shelves to lure in the punters - who can then buy artfully distressed copies (discreetly displayed next to the dummies) without cover shots of Michael Sheen or that bloke from Skins, so they can affect cultured ignorance that the movie even exists.

Apparently she had him at Jell-O.

I have NO IDEA why this is in my head, but enjoy.



I think it was the showerhead this morning, it just reminded me of Ferris Bueller's Day Off.

Hey, did you know that a studio apartment can be SMALLER than 500 sq ft? I have, no shit, seen a few listed for $1100 or so (both in the D.C. and Boston areas) that start at 250 sq ft. OMFG. Is that even legal?!!

Fort Worth's Main Street Arts Fest is this weekend. I'm normally all for these things, but all the foodies are downtown merchants...nothing I can't get any other day, you know?

I am a fan of sunshine, beer and jazz, though, not to mention people-watching and camera opportunities...I might be more inclined if there was actual grass downtown, as opposed to a bunch of streets and concrete...

Songs from a (school) room

A short piece for RBP, about childhood and Leonard Cohen and stuff.

My tractor’s got no nose

Hastily cobbled-together first draft of a thesis, after visiting Rodchenko & Popova: Defining Constructivism at Tate Modern (and fondly remembering a previous exhibition at the V&A):

SOVIET CONSTRUCTIVISM IS REALLY JUST MODERNISM WITHOUT A REDEEMING SENSE OF HUMOUR

Destroying the economy, one hotel booking at a time

I did say I’d stop writing about the political situation in Thailand, because it’s turned into a modern-day version of the Schleswig-Holstein Question, but the Graun asked nicely, so I came up with this.

Pablo hummy

As you enter the exhibition Picasso: Challenging the Past (at the National Gallery until June 7), you’re confronted with a sign declaring: “LECTURING IS NOT PERMITTED IN THE EXHIBITION”.

Which raises a number of questions, not least the precise definition of lecturing. Obviously you don’t want your viewing disturbed by 47 wannabe Schamas, what exactly is the distinction between that and the sort of low-level explicatory natter that two friends might share when looking at a painting? While it’s deeply annoying to get an unsolicited running commentary during a film or play, a certain level of chat is tolerable in the otherwise silent gallery.

Although of course, it’s not silent: the ambient noise of the modern gallery is the fractured buzz leaking from those bloody headphones, all slightly out of sync with each other, as if a Tube carriage-full of commuters had all started the same track on their iPods at two-second intervals. To be honest, I’d rather have a wannabe Schama, even at the risk of provoking a scene like this:



As it was, the main distraction from the buzz (apart from the exhibition itself, of course, which is quite good, but a bit short for 12 quid) was the sight of a lady sitting and sketching in front of ‘Women of Algiers (After Delacroix)’, apparently unfazed by all the people standing in her way. Only by looking over her shoulder did I realise that she was drawing the people, not the painting.

Don't sew when you're this angry.

I've been seeing a chiropractor again for about a week, since my neck was getting bad again. The annoying thing is that it sometimes gets really bad at night--evening mostly. Even last night, I had rented Twister (it's on my dad's top ten comfort films and I hadn't really seen the whole thing in probably ten years--so much of it reminded me point-by-point of Speed and hey, der, same director, Jan de Bont...); anyway, a film like that is usually perfect to take my mind off things. Not so much this time. (It was still enjoyable, but you know, pain sucks.)



(Btw, that sucker has some winning dialogue!)

I went to the store for wine (hey, when in doubt...oh wait, different movie), and a snack. I was irritated enough that I wasn't really considering my diet. So I'm wandering around in the sort of clothes where you pray you don't run into anyone (at the time, I honestly couldn't give a rat's ass) and none of the snackies sounded good. Wanted an ice cream treat, but not a whole goddamn box, ya know? Considering what I left with, I'm really glad for self-check-out. I mean, it's not like I got a cucumber, Vaseline and condoms, but I just don't need anyone judging my wine, bacon, chips, French Onion dip. (Honestly, the bacon is just for a recipe.)

My friend C had nearly the same problem that same morning, standing in line to purchase (before 10am, natch) red wine and a big can of tomatoes. The woman behind her eyed her and (in a humorous tone, one assumes) said, "Nice way to start the morning." C replied (all too seriously, knowing her), "Breakfast of champions."

But I came home, finished off Twister and then lay on the floor to watch Watership Down, since it had been way too long. Still perfect.



This is the Quiz Link; I have a feeling we're all Hazel. (Ok, I took it again and now I'm Pipkin...so I'm a born leader and a born follower, what does that say about me?)

Also, for some good Saturday morning randomness, I really enjoyed:

Woody Harrelson's defense of beating up a paparazzo saying he mistook him for a zombie

PETA (seriously) asking the Pet Shop Boys to change their name

and for a pleasant finish, this NYTimes article, A Paradise of Birds in Belize. Belize seems to have been the trendy vacation spot last year (at least for people here), but I really wouldn't mind seeing some of those guys! #7 is particularly sexy and #9 looks really soft...

Would you please tell the audience... err... the jury what happened?

Ok, I've felt like such a reject for enough months you'll forgive me if I say: Did I mention THIS yet? (It's #5 we're looking at.) I won't tell the admissions office they made a mistake with my application if you won't!

And they have so many cool specializations within their international department--from studying organizations like the EU (or doing studies THERE) to human rights to...hmm, you know, I probably should have studied those "foreign languages" more, huh? In all honesty, I have been revisiting my two years of (college) Italian via Live Mocha, which is a pretty cool site. (But something tells me I should have studied Arabic, oh well...less reason to go to the scary places, right, mom?)

And I will absolutely go back to feeling like a poser slug who can't afford to even breathe in their school, but I get at least one moment to feel pretty fucking happy. For some weird reason, all last night while falling asleep, I could not get Renee Zellweger out of my head...



A song celebrating fame through murder is possibly not the right sentiment, but there it is.

Frith may have made it, but Fiver found it.

Yesterday evening was a nice surprise. I was listening to Rene and Georgette Magritte With Their Dog After the War and noticing the pink haze hanging around the metroplex like some post-apocalyptic Hardware-esque setting.

And D sent me a text message, "You got a big envelope from [redacted]." I didn't want to get my hopes up, as this particular university had told me that if they accepted me, they'd call and I'd have to decide right then and pay a $900 deposit within 24 hrs. Maybe they do that if it gets really late in the game, or perhaps it's a severe weeding out process, who knows.

I certainly still wouldn't mind moving to Boston, should that be the case, and I guess I have to wait to see what the financial aid offers look like? But without a doubt, it'd be pretty hard to turn this place down, considering its ranking and reputation! They have something like a 21% acceptance rate and their International Law program is #5 in the country (ahead of Yale, Berkeley and Stanford, hee hee). Also, it's twenty minutes from here, which is neat. (You know, for when they want to invite me to dinner.)

And if I save up my pennies in a jar, I could actually maybe finally see these guys play! (Assuming they're still together...) Mostly that's my excuse to post this song, I think it's a fabulous Friday song.

Tea, Earl Grey, hot.

This is why I miss living in Austin.

To say the least.

Massachusetts is a blue state. God has no place here.

Hooray! I am excited to have something to divert my attention for the next three weeks...if you've read this blog for any length, you'll recall that this is the time of year USA Film Festival comes around, and I occasionally get called on to help out. Last year, I was all too happy to devote any waking minutes I could spare to making a tribute video for Mystery Science Theater 3000. I was working a lot of hours at work as it was, but I was really into making that damn thing.

This year, there are two tribute videos I've been asked to help out on; mostly one actor, but should he fall through, then we go to Plan B. I'm not allowed to say who is who, but between you and me, I would have much more of a feel for the Plan B actor--not that I don't really respect Plan A actor...in either case, I'm totally tickled to be helping out. I'm delighted to be heading to law school, make no mistake, but I will always totally fucking love editing--from sorting and pulling clips (which is what I'll be doing this weekend) to figuring out how to best assemble the puzzle (the part I often get to do when my friend gets too busy with other festival stupidities) and then watching the finished product.

If there is anything more fun than editing, I hope to find it in the next three years!

Where do they keep his water dish?

It is OBNOXIOUSLY GORGEOUS OUTSIDE. Work should be canceled on days like THESE.

But oh well. So instead, here is Paul Simon in Tokyo, two of my very favorite things.

Thom’s Thomism

Just to note that Radiohead and Philosophy is now available from Amazon in the UK (and presumably in bookshops and libraries and things).

Freek zine

If you can tear yourself away for a moment from the ruthless twazmuppeting of poor Sir Fred, do check out Freekly. It’s an application that tracks your iTunes listening habits to create a bespoke weekly music magazine, drawn from the archives of Rock’s Backpages. Well, that’s the idea, at least. The temptation is surely to listen to nothing but Nurse With Wound or The Saturdays, just to push the product to the limit. But what’s wrong with that?

And if you don’t get the laboured pun in the post title:

You are a manila envelope glued to a beige wall.

This line popped into my head when I was thinking about Boston Legal. Just kidding, there's nothing beige about James Spader. I could watch him in (almost?) anything.



Just started a new show last night at Alex's recommendation, Burn Notice. I was shocked to see it, too, was a product of the USA Network. I hope it doesn't go the route of The Starter Wife, which is to say, cancellation. To be fair, Burn Notice is much stronger.



It amused me that even though the show could hardly be more different from Miami Vice, it's nearly impossible to set the show in Miami without worrying about comparisons. Hopefully Alex doesn't mind me repeating her writing, because it's perfect: Miami Vice is a gritty downer in a pretty pastel dress; Burn Notice is optimism in a tailored suit with a g-string underneath.

So I eagerly await disc 2. It can be a little pat and you usually know how it's going to end, but that doesn't mean the ride isn't enjoyable.

I also started Australia. It really takes a moment to adjust to the world of Baz Lurhmann. I love Baz, but the drama is so MELODRAMATIC and the comedy almost slapstick, it can take a moment to submerge into the mood and not start to hate it.



But the drama and pace have been really on-target, and it's been an easy watch for its 2 hr 45 minute runtime. I was sort of questioning Nicole for a while, but I think she's mostly got it together. It's a hard role to get just right, in fairness.

Also, HOORAY FOR VERMONT!! And D.C. isn't doing too badly, either! Yeah!

Freddie’s dead

Type “twazmuppet” into Google.

Go about half way down the first page.

Say thank you, LC.

After the square dance, maybe we can all take a hay ride.

I'm still pretty giddy from Friday's news...I vacillate between "OMG!!!111!" and "Holy SHIT am I doing everything I need to with financial aid?"

My potential educators sent me a letter about needing more info, which I had to call and correct them on--you wouldn't believe the hoops one has to go through to prove that their parents are not paying for their education (how old am I, again??). They're rushing my award through the process so I know what to ask for in private loans (groan), which I am not supposed to seek yet. Whew. Just have that nervous feeling like I should be doing something, you know?

Also, I'm so glad I checked the mail on Friday before my email, as they had mistakenly sent me an email reminding me to make my deposit by a certain date. They caught the error, and sent me another email saying, "Whoops, just kidding, congrats on getting in and your deposit date is actually later, so no worries." Would have been a really anticlimatic way to find out, though! There's something nice about getting the Big Envelope in the mail rather than the skinny rejection letter.

And it looks like classes (well, orientation) starts August 12th! August is very far away, but you know what? It's SO TOTALLY NOT. Time to get BOXES! And I need to call the magnificent Sam, my realtor, to see about selling/renting my house. I know most people in this market opt for renting...and I have to admit I love the idea, since I love my house so much. All the work I've put into that yard!! You can't really tell, but you shoulda seen it in the beginning...that poor yard!

It's such a family neighborhood, especially with schools, I don't know if people would rather buy, to be honest...hey, I'll take it where I can get it!

Also, please do not watch Boston Legal. It's really bad. I'm 4 discs into a 6-disc season 1, and well, it blows. I love James Spader, truly, and any laughs are strictly due to his delivery, but it's just not worth it. At this point, it's very much like watching a train wreck and I feel compelled to see the season out.

Hey, hey LBW

Just finished Joseph O’Neill’s Netherland, which is about many things – marriage, masculinity, mid-life crises, migration – but above all about the barely visible subculture of cricket in New York. O’Neill describes it as a post-American novel: as the dust of 9/11 refuses to settle, a hodgepodge of immigrants indulge in a pastime that’s almost as alien to the American psyche as Marxism or not liking apple pie. (Although, as one character points out, cricket was played in New York in the 1770s, and the first international sporting events were cricket matches between the USA and Canada, in the 1840s.)

I think I’m reading it at exactly the right time. America may not yet have ceded the 21st century to China and India at the G20 summit, but Obama’s presence at the G20 summit struck a new tone of humility. Meanwhile, Afghanistan responds to its prolonged occupation not by opening McDonalds and Starbucks in Kabul, but by moving inexorably towards a place in the next Cricket World Cup.

Cricket becomes the signifier of not-Americanness; the next step will be America meekly submitting to its charms. And the conclusive sign that the American hegemony is over will be President Paris Hilton bowling the first googly of the 20/20 World Series.

Did you drink and dial?

This week I ate at two Italian restaurants in Fort Worth, Aventino's and The Italian Inn. In retrospect, I have a feeling this'll be some of the last eating out I do, since a desperate squirreling away of pennies seems to be in order. It's going to be hard not to eat out, not to mention that a scaling down of my Netfux subscription is undoubtedly in order, but I'll worry about that later. In the meantime, the restaurants...

The first one, Aventino's, was more fine dining. I had the pumpkin gnocchi, which was really tasty. Before ordering, the waitress actually asked if I wanted to relax with my wine and book. While I was reading, she brought out some English peas--compliments of the chef--with this powdered olive oil side I still can't explain despite asking about it a second time--damn was it good. It was Monday, so it was pretty quiet all around and I finished off two books I'd been reading.

And I loved Aventino's but I admit it, The Italian Inn was way more my place. It's a Fort Worth favorite I've been meaning to try for a while. The doors boast, "Home of the Singing Waiters!" and I always just sorta took that to mean birthday stuff. No. First of all, the minute you enter you have to go downstairs into a basement, and you're surrounded by graffiti from the get-go. Years of it. It's the new Flying Tomato! (For me, anyway.)

The booths have doors on them that even close (rowr!), and there is a raised piano on the main floor, where the waitstaff periodically get up and sing Beatles, Broadway, classics, whatever. I got off the phone when I heard my waitress singing All My Lovin, since that is the best Beatles song, full stop.

And hey, the food rocked, too! Always a plus. I was reading a book, but was easily distracted by the graffiti. There are notes under the booth tabletops, which are all glasstops. 98% are anniversary "I totally love you baby" type stuff, but there was a clear winner:

Dear Larry,

Did you ever think you'd see the day when I'd be here with your ex-wife and you'd be living under a fucking rock--where you belong, scumbag. Maybe next time you'll value what you have and life will hand you what you deserve--warts and herpes. In the meantime, we'll be in Europe drinking champagne, asshole.

Love,
Greg & V.

Easily my favorite.

And honestly, it's reasonably priced enough that perhaps I can go back a couple more times before August. The girls at work want to treat me to dinner next Friday, so I think I'm opting for this place!

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm starting to watch The Boy In the Striped Pajamas. Bet it's a laugh riot.

One big world full of no.

Just when you think it is, anyway, someone actually wants you.



I got accepted to law school!!! Omg, someone actually wants me!!

What's creepy is that I had a feeling today was the day. Also, I stopped off to rent Boston Legal on the way home to entertain myself while I finish painting the kitchen. Shoulda rented it a long time ago! Wow, and now I'll know what to expect from Boston law! ;)

Today I cannot wipe the giddy smile off my face. Tomorrow, I will begin shitting nervous poo for six months thinking about moving, money and house selling. And getting Bourdain up there.

La Chanson de Roland III (instrumental)

Sorry, all been a bit frantic this week, so I haven’t really had time to come up with a proper blog post. And you know what that means: