Effluvia

If you haven't checked out Cruel.com, you really should. It's wonderfully meanspirited; for example, this recent entry about neighbors having loud sex.

I think Morimoto would be a good boss.

Bygone Days
Uncensored!

100 YEARS AGO
June 26, 1900

The engagement and approaching marriage of Miss Kate McMahon and William J. A. Sullivan, is announced. The wedding will take place next Thursday morning at St. Peter's Church, in Memphis.

Sounds to me like Miss Kate might have a bun in the oven, if you know what I mean.

Boss Kenny

"I mapped the human genome years ago. Just for fun. I'm a genius."

Friday night Jen and James came over; we ate Pancho's (the local Mexican chain, not the article of clothing or some hard-up-for-money migrant worker. I can hear you all out there right now - "you ate Pancho's what? Ho ho ho!" All my readers think about is smut.) and watched Ghostbusters on the DVD. I developed an amazing, sledgehammering headache before I could even offer to make a beer run. Then Sonya and Jen started debating the guilt or innocence of the so-called "West Memphis Three" and I felt too shitty to talk about something I have such strong feelings about so I went to bed.

Saturday morning I still had a headache, so Sonya went to the Salon while I couched and took some Advil. She came to get me after all that, and my head was better, so we did the Golden India lunch buffet which was very, very good. Them Indians make some tasty food! I had some green stuff and some chicken and a fried thing. Then I wanted another nap.

But no! Sonya had said she wanted to go shopping and wanted me to go shopping with her, so off to the mall we went. We made several stops through the course of the day - Sonya got a fuzzy red cowboy hat, which is cool, and I got a t-shirt (it's got the Dukes of Hazzard on the front and says "White Trash" underneath them. I love it.) and we both got a CD and shoes! Lord, did we buy shoes! Molkoboots and Donna Karan loafers for Sonya and a great big huge pair of Doc Marten's wingtips for me. Then we went to Target, spent even more money and came home.

An aside here: I heard this hip-hop song several times this weekend, and I think it's by either the Cash Money people or DMX's crew, I'm not sure which. Anyway, as far as I can tell the main and constantly repeated line of this song is, "get your robe on! Get your robe on! Yeah! Get your robe on! Get your robe on! Yeah!"

I tried out other possible lyrics, like "get your road on" or "get your role on," but "get your robe on" makes the most sense.

"What do you think it means?" I asked Sonya, "do you think it's a gettin' out of bed song? Or a gettin' ready for bed song? Or maybe a fixin' to take a shower song?"

"I don't know," Sonya said sadly, "I wish I did. I'd tell you."

Saturday night we put on our new shoes and whatnot and went to Milly's to meet Kent and James (they went to London with us, remember) for dimsum. They told us another couple would be there, too.

"Wouldn't it be funny if the other couple were lesbians?" Sonya said, "then we'd have all three flavors!"

Of course they were lesbians. Butch, friendly lesbian coworkers of James'. We had a lovely dinner, sharing desserts at the end. We also saw David ("Just David!") and congratulated him on his impending move to New York City.

The plan after that was to go to this beer party thing over on McLean where my buddy and coworker Dave was playing with his band. Supposedly, you just walk in with a six-pack, put it with the others and help yourself to all the other beers that everyone else has brought. We drove by a few times, but it was just too weird a social situation. We went home and drank the beer ourselves, listening to the New Orleans police radio the whole night.

Sunday? Hey, I saw The Waterboy! It was too damned funny - "oh no, the brain pain!" And such big stars, you know? Henry Winkler, Kathy Bates and Adam Sandler all in one shot. And any movie with Jerry Reed is gonna be pretty good, right?

And we visited family, and went grocery shopping for the first time in months. We accomplished a lot. And last night? Iron Chef. The Williams family is pathetic. Please send money or, possibly, real lives.