WTF?
In 1999, after a couple of years fiddling with that blogging thing on various other people's domains, I thought I had enough things to say to merit my very own corner of this here interweb. In 2007, I suddenly ran out of ammo. Thankfully, that didn't last forever... So, I'm back. Still not dead yet. Like a phoenix from the ashes. Behold.
recently :: 08.10
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December 20, 2001
:: interior desecrations redux ::
Stand back, Lileks* - these people are serious. Thanks to Phineas for the early-morning link - the Madonna Inn is a real, live, eye-bleeding horror. Hey, anyplace that's got a column in their room amenities chart for "Rock or Waterfall Shower" scares the everliving shit out of me, that's for sure. Although I must admit to a strangely irresistible urge to spend a night in the Caveman Room - what do you say, Stephen? Actually, Jungle Rock looks pretty enticing as well - furnished with not one but two king-sized beds. You do the math. And how anyone could resist the taste and charm of the Tack Room is beyond me. Finally, I don't think I've ever seen a more appropriately named place than Rock Bottom.
So I say we go today! While we're there, let's have some steak! Anybody hungry?
God bless America. I think.
December 19, 2001
:: bye bye ::
Sad news today: longtime favorite AdCritic is no more.
December 17, 2001
:: it's beginning to look a lot like Christmas ::
The tree, she is up. I love tree-trimming parties. I open the door, people come in bearing wine and various other tasy beverages (in Scott's case, the always-interesting Blue Champagne, which looks not unlike carbonated Ti-D-Bowl). I take the booze, hand them some ornaments and hors d'oeuvres, and presto chango! Tree's all decorated. Many thanks to my Mom as well, who directed the decorating so as to ensure even distribution. Very German, yes she is.
And then on Sunday there was bowling. I am a terrible bowler - no really, an awful, *awful* bowler (totally unlike Phineas (thanks, Jima!). For more details on weekend fun, see Phin's coverage.
And another thing - last week there appeared in my mailbox an extra-tasty treat... a CD from Andreas, who'd noticed I seemed to be having a bit of a rough go of it. I urge you to check it out. And, just because you've been so nice, here's a song for you [serenade, 4.5 Mb].
Any CD that starts with these lyrics has got to be OK with me:
My my my don't you look cute
in those 2 tone shoes and that 3 piece suit
your hands are sweaty
your hair's all spiky
and you're just as crazy as me
Thanks, babe.
And now, back to work!
December 14, 2001
:: I hereby issue a public ::
I hereby issue a public apology for the utter craptasticness of the recent writing on this site.
This does not, however, mean it's going to get a whole lot better, at least not until I get more than 5 consecutive minutes to collect my thoughts. Don't worry, when it happens you'll know.
And in other news, I got my Christmas tree last night. It's huge. It's beautiful. It smells really really good. Did I mention I'm having a party? Apparently when Phineas invited Amy and Jima, Amy said she'd only come if she could have a funeral service for the tree. For all of you out there who feel similarly, I must politely request that you not attend. Because funerals just wind up leading to cremations and I can't imagine any good coming of that. Besides, my tree's got her own poem, which I read to her at night, so how unhappy can she be?
December 13, 2001
:: much to say ::
And also this: I have in the last week witnessed two of the most amazing performances of my adult life. The fact that I have not yet written about the first is criminal. The second was just last night, so we'll get to that in a minute.
Sunday: Itzhak Perlman and Daniel Barenboim. Mom and me. Mozart, Brahms and Beethoven (mom's favorite sonata!). Bliss. Amazing thing: like watching them play in their living room. Comfortable, at ease, complete trust in each other. Seats: fabulous. Perfect day.
Yesterday: Topolos and Chiles Rellenos* at Frontera. Simon Callow in a one-man show. Magnificent. Beware - it'll make you want to bury yourself in books for the next 6 months. Virtuouso performance, 50 or so characters, hilarity and mystery and melodrama. In short, all that's fabulous about Dickens. Champagne and jazz at Pops after. It was a good night.
Now all I have to do is buy a damned tree for Saturday.
December 12, 2001
:: 'tis the season... ::
...to be jolly*. Phineas' birthday is tomorrow, and I'm throwing a tree-trimming/birthday party on Saturday. You can see the (intentionally) ugly invitation here. Want to come? Drop me a line!
December 6, 2001
:: tee ::
December 4, 2001
:: whatever and ever, amen ::
It has been brought to my attention that it's been some time since I've posted. So I'm posting.
Unfortunately, aside from another excellent film recommendation (thanks, Scott!), I've been too embroiled in work* to really have time to think of much that's worthwhile for you, gentle readers.
Although Stephen insists, upon sniffing up and down my arm, that parts of it smell more like me than others. Which may or may not be way too much information.