Suki, Zissou, and Zoe

Our Domino died yesterday very suddenly, and too young. We love and miss her very much.

Domino

Current Mood: sad

I'm grumpy, for no particular reason, it seems. Maybe I'm just tired.

Today we embarked on a mission:

Phase 1 - Comb local thrift stores for a dozen vinyl copies of Herb Alpert's "Whipped Cream and Other Delights".



As you can see, the cover of this album is sort of kitsch-ily lewd, which I enjoy . The following conversation occurred betwixt myself and the fat, craggy, gray-haired old clerk at the final store we hit.

Him: "This album made me so hot when it first came out. She's probably a fat old hag with her tits down to her knees by now."

Me: "At least she'll always have this to remember what she used to look like," I said, pointing down at the album on the counter.

Him: "Yeah, I guess."

Jeez. Hostile much?

We went to seven stores and found four copies, which is fairly encouraging.

Phase 2 - Frame album covers and hang them on this wall in a block, 4 rows, 3 columns:



It was Brian's idea. I think it's going to look great. He's also got a huge Syd Barrett-era Pink Floyd poster that would look incredible, but I want to frame it before we put it up and the prices on custom-size frames I've found so far are prohibitively high.

Here are more pictures of the front room, which is by no means finished. It's coming along. I don't know how to do that nifty thing where I would link to another page so my entry doesn't take up your entire friends page, so I'm sorry in advance. I'm a techno-moron.

Before:





After:





I think that's all I've got for now, except for this:



My dog is cute! Which is lucky for him, 'cause he's a pain in the ass much of the time and I'd have killed him by now if he weren't.

Current Mood: sleepy

Brian and I are now living out of the new house, although the majority of our belongings remain at our separate apartments because we're fixing up a couple of rooms before we move all the way in. I will now subject you to photographs taken with the cool new digital camera I got for Christmas.

This is what the living room looked like when we moved in:





You can't truly appreciate the hideousness of the carpet unless I do this:



Here's what the living room looks like now:





It's taken us over a month to get that far. The fucktards who used to own this house wallpapered the cieling(!?) and apparently hired a drunk half-blind midget with two fingers to wallpaper everything else. There were also all sorts of dents and protrusions in the walls, all of which Brian worked very hard to fix. I'm pretty proud of us - we're working much harder on this than I think either of us usually do on anything else.

And now, pictures of cute furry animals...

This is Tom. He rocks.



This is Max.



And Littlejeans.



And their new frienemy, Domino.



Also, some jackass hit my car last week and I think it's totaled. I'd show you a picture of that, but I forgot to take one. Let's see, what else... My thirtieth birthday is Sunday. I think that about brings it up to speed.

Current Mood: happy

UPS has lost my shirt. I think the only appropriate thing to do is consult a psychic to determine its whereabouts, then go on a cross-country quest to retrieve it. During the course of my journey, I will, of course, meet and charm a host of quirky individuals, get into and out of some tight spots, accidentally interrupt the filming of a Twisted Sister video, and sell my story to a major movie studio after succesfully retrieving the shirt. I think we all know that's how this is gonna go.

I'm hung over for the first time in quite a while (hooray for a somewhat improved measure of sobriety!) and still mentally recovering from a visit home to see my family that was exhausting and stressful. Mom. Cancer. She's going to be okay now and I don't want to talk about it any more or ever again. Due to the above listed factors I'm cranky and I want to crawl under my desk and take a nap.

There is, however, one bright spot in my day that's giving me sporadic joy when it crosses my mind. Last week in a fit of irresponsibility I purchased a $22 t-shirt. Exacerbating the outrageous imprudence of paying $22 for a t-shirt was the fact that I didn't even have $22 at the time, so I paid for the $22 t-shirt with a credit card. Before you judge me, listen. Open your mind and behold the glory of the shirt... The shirt is dark blue with stars dotting the upper chest area. Below the starry sky is a drawing of the Alamo. And what's that underneath the Alamo, right about where the basement would be...? That's right. It's a red bicycle.

I imagine you all got the reference. If you didn't, then don't you dare even smile at my icon! No! You are not permitted to enjoy it even a little bit! Bad early twenty-first-century American between the ages of twenty-two and forty! Bad! If I could reach you with my rolled up newspaper, you would get a swat on the nose right now.

Anyway, my point is that this morning I got an e-mail notifying me that the shirt has been shipped, and that was the highlight of my whole day.

The t-shirt is my god and when it arrives, I will worship it.

I'm hiding in the kitchen because I've just finished telling Brian exactly what's wrong with the most recent song he wrote. I have a give-an-honest-opinion-when-asked policy regarding his songs, which is uncomfortable when I don't think they're good. Luckily, they're usually at least good and sometimes even great in my opinion, so it doesn't come up much.

This one, though... He was working it up for performance tomorrow night, and he was playing it over and over ad nauseum. I, sitting three feet away and growing increasingly incapable of supressing my distaste for the thing, finally couldn't keep my mouth shut any more and piped up with my unsolicited opinion that the lyrics were subpar, the melody uninteresting, and the content of the lyrics antithetical to the mood of the music. All of which I stand by regardless of the guilt I am now experiencing.

He took it as well as one can take it when their brainchild has been mercilessly dissected. He always gets this "Give it to me, I can take it" look on his face, but you can see in his eyes that he takes it as an insult.

Oh, well. It's not like I set his puppy on fire. Not literally, anyway.

I just spent a stupid amount of time Googling people I used to know. You know you've done it, too, so you can wipe that smug look off your face.

I began my quest as it should properly be begun, by searching first for Exes Whom I Still Feel Scarred By, followed by Exes I Never Really Cared That Much About. I then moved on to Friends I Haven't Talked To Since College. Then Friends I Haven't Seen Since High School. I did successfully locate one of the latter, on lj no less, though he hasn't made an entry in about a year. I added him to my friends list just he case he pops back up again.

Do I feel a little pathetic? Yes. Yes, I do.

Dateline: June 14th, 2006, Saint Louis, MO

After an exhilarating brush with C-list celebrity Aaron Eckhart, local woman Kate Mittendorf has reportedly been so thoroughly disgusted by her own interest in the event that she is now contemplating a full frontal lobotomy.

"At first I was sure it was Aaron Eckhart," said Mittendorf, "but then when I told people they didn't believe me, so I started to doubt myself. I thought, 'Maybe it wasn't really Aaron Eckhart. Maybe it was just some guy who looked like Aaron Eckhart.' Then I thought, 'Why am I even thinking about this?'"

Ms. Mittendorf endured a few painful hours of self-doubt before coming across an article in the most recent issue of Entertainment Magazine which mentioned a movie called "Bill" currently filming in Saint Louis, MO, starring... Aaron Eckhart.

"I was disturbingly happy to know that had I correctly identified and separated the celebrity from the non-important, non-celebrity members of the crowd that day."

Ms. Mittendorf was subsequently thrown into paroxysms of shame regarding the fact that she's been so successfully brainwashed by our celebrity-obsessed American culture.

"I could give a shit," said Ms. Mittendorf. "Or at least I thought I could. Why should it excite me to be in the same place at the same time as some lame actor who I don't even think is talented enough to deserve the elevated status he enjoys? It would be much cooler if I were excited about spotting, like Gandhi, or someone. Except he's dead, so that wouldn't happen. Man... He was hot, though. Shiny looking. He was really, really tan."

Ms. Mittendorf now reports that she's considering a frontal lobotomy to curb her out-of-control brain. She added that since her brain has been telling her that seeing Aaron Eckhart was the most exciting thing that happened to her all week, then it obviously can't be trusted.

Ms. Mittendorf says she plans to devote the rest of her workday to browsing the internet on the lookout for the pharmaceutical equivalent of a lobotomy, as she's afraid of actual surgery.

Dateline: June 12th, 2006, St. Louis, MO

Kate Mittendorf, 29, of St. Louis, MO reported a recent sighting of actor Aaron Eckhart (The Core, Thank You for Smoking) at a local street fair as the only even vaguely interesting thing that's happened to her in several months.



"I don't even really like his acting," said Mittendorf, "In fact, have you seen The Core? Man, that movie sucked. That may be the worst movie I've ever seen. Let me give you some perspective; Have you seen Johnny Mnemonic? That movie was Citizen Kane compared to The Core. Seriously. It'll give you brain damage."

Despite this belated disclaimer, Ms. Mittendorf admitted to having told at least one friend of the celebrity-sighting as if it were noteworthy. Ms. Mittendorf, who is single, lives in a three-room apartment with her dog, Tom, and two cats, whom her mother refers to as her "grandchildren".

Ms. Mittendorf stated that she thought she might be able to drag out the excitement from this stirring brush with quasi-stardom for a couple of months, after which she'll be forced to turn to some other meaningless fixation to keep her going. She's reportedly considering taking up a new hobby, such as growing tomatoes or stalking David Cross, whom she is convinced would instantly fall in love with her if he ever met her.

"The gov needs to get out of the marriage business altogether, ya'ask me. Separation of church and state, yo. It should relinquish claim to the word "marriage" altogether, let it revert to its original, religious meaning, and wash its hands of the whole thing. Don't get me wrong -- I still think there should be a secular equivalent. Just don't call it "marriage." And don't call it "civil unions," either -- that term is sullied by those who have been trying to pawn it off as some kind of bargain basement matrimony.

I think the United States should adopt the Buddy System.

Here's how it would work. When a citizen reaches Buddying age, he or she will receive a charming, hand-written note in the mail from the government. This is what it will say:

Hi there! Welcome to adulthood. You've had it relatively easy so far, all things considered: what with the parents, and the no job, and the not paying taxes, and the ability to eat an entire Italian sausage and black olive pizza without feeling like crap the following morning. Sure the whole puberty thing sucked, no argument there. But by and large life has been pretty sweet.

Unfortunately things get a little trickier from here on out. You might have to work a job you don't particularly like, or find yourself with all kinds of obligations you'd just as soon avoid. Maybe you'll feel your idealism leech away, and your patience for the status quo dwindle. Perhaps the people who signed your yearbook "2good + 2b = 4gotten!" will move away and 4get you, and your opportunities to meet new, fun people will become increasingly limited. And -- trust me on this one -- no TV show will ever seem as cool as the ones you enjoyed when you were 13.

Yeah, adulthood is a drag sometimes. And that's where the Buddy System comes in. At some point, you may find it useful to Buddy up with another person, someone you will watch over and who will, in turn, watch over you. Like the earlier version of this system you may have used at school or at camp, your Buddy's job will be to make sure you don't get lost. But less a literal "don't get lost in the forest during a dayhike" and more a figurative "don't get so lost working at a crummy job that you forget how much you like gardening." Or, you know, whatever.

So, at some point, feel free to take a Buddy. Or don't: whatever works for you. But iIt's a scary world out there, and sometimes a Buddy is just the thing you need to make it seem a bit more manageable.

Also, couples wishing to Buddy would be required to have their ceremony somewhere awesome, like a waterslide park or a Yeah Yeah Yeahs concert or the Seattle Aquarium. And an open bar would be mandated by law."

Stolen from: http://www.defectiveyeti.com/archives/001649.html