The kitten is licking the fuck out of his nuts.
So Morning Sedition @ the Tea Lounge was fucking great! I showed up too late to see Jim Earl do any of his bits, but I got to see Kent Jones (who looks nothing like I'd imagined) do his Lawton Smalls report from Planet Bush -- plus, of course, Mark and Marc doing they thing. They also had Chuck D and DMC from Run DMC on as guests. DMC's voice was really weird, though -- it was really high and shaky, like he was going to burst into tears at any second. Maybe he was sick or something; maybe he just always sounds like that. At the end of the broadcast I waited in line to meet the hosts and told Mark Riley, lamely enough, that Morning Sedition was "the best morning show on the radio. Period." Ahem. It's true, though.
During a break about halfway through, as I was coming back from putting my name in a raffle for tickets to see Maron at Bananas, I ran into a friend of mine from Wesleyan, this girl who'd been in No Exit with me. Thing is, I totally didn't remember her name (it's Deanna), but she remembered mine, and I didn't want to ask her because I'm usually pretty good with names and I was just hoping it would come to me. But it didn't, and she sort of slipped in "I'm Deanna, by the way" part way through our conversation. I was like, "I... I know. I mean, thank you." Awk-ward. Anyway, it turns out that she actually works for Air America, which is sweet. I asked her about the financial status of the network, since the neo-con death cult is constantly predicting their demise and none of the on-air people ever really discuss it. Naturally she said they were doing fine, but who knows? You can't trust anyone these days.
Okay, time to pick up my laundry.
Saturday, June 25, 2005
Tuesday, June 21, 2005
Java in a Nutshell
I just found out that the Morning Sedition Tea Lounge broadcast is gonna be at the Tea Lounge at 7th and Union, not the Tea Lounge at 7th and 10th. This is the worst day of my entire goddamn life.
Now it's Thursday.
Yesterday I was feeling kind of down, so I decided to go for a run after work. I was doing pretty well, but after about 2 miles the burrito I'd had for lunch started sloshing around in my stomach so I cut across the park and went home. But I felt a whole hell of a lot better.
I'd bought some mussels at C-Town on my way home, so when I got back from my run I sauteed some garlic and onions and steamed the mussels to put over some pasta. Then Mer and I hunkered down to watch the last 2 episodes of the second season of The Sopranos. The season finale was great -- Tony gets food poisoning from, what else, a bad plate of mussels (though Artie fuckin' Bucco tries to blame it on some chicken vindaloo from a different restaurant), and, in between trips to the bathroom, has a bunch of really weird dreams that kind of guide him through what he has to do to get his ducks in a row. Can't wait to start the third season.
And as luck (or slightly over/undercooked seafood) would have it, Mer and I both had some crazy dreams of our own last night. She can tell you what hers was about; here's what happened to me: Mer was having some irritating friends stay with us while they were in town. They'd brought us a gift of a boxed DVD set of some episodes of a TV show, possibly Buffy the Vampire Slayer (I'm not sure -- I think Bill Nighy was in it) and wanted to watch it with us, but they were still so aggravating that we decided to get out of the house on our own for a while. We wound up on a suburban high school football field -- it was dark out except for the stadium lights lighting up the grass -- and a friend of mine, possibly Chrissy Rodney, was chasing us around in a friendly way carrying a barrel of wine above his head and spraying wine into our mouths and all over our faces as we ran up and down the field. We ended up getting very drunk and the three of us went to the nearby restroom / locker room to clean ourselves up. You know how when you're drunk, sometimes you look in the mirror and you're like, "Echhhh! I look terrible!" Well, in the dream, I literally looked awful -- my eyes were really close together and my nose was all bulbous. For some reason I started spitting in the sink, trying to clear my throat, but I kept bringing up these thick strands of saliva and hair (!) that I had to pull out of my mouth with my fingers. So that was gross. And then I woke up.
As promised, pictures of the kitten:
Now it's Thursday.
Yesterday I was feeling kind of down, so I decided to go for a run after work. I was doing pretty well, but after about 2 miles the burrito I'd had for lunch started sloshing around in my stomach so I cut across the park and went home. But I felt a whole hell of a lot better.
I'd bought some mussels at C-Town on my way home, so when I got back from my run I sauteed some garlic and onions and steamed the mussels to put over some pasta. Then Mer and I hunkered down to watch the last 2 episodes of the second season of The Sopranos. The season finale was great -- Tony gets food poisoning from, what else, a bad plate of mussels (though Artie fuckin' Bucco tries to blame it on some chicken vindaloo from a different restaurant), and, in between trips to the bathroom, has a bunch of really weird dreams that kind of guide him through what he has to do to get his ducks in a row. Can't wait to start the third season.
And as luck (or slightly over/undercooked seafood) would have it, Mer and I both had some crazy dreams of our own last night. She can tell you what hers was about; here's what happened to me: Mer was having some irritating friends stay with us while they were in town. They'd brought us a gift of a boxed DVD set of some episodes of a TV show, possibly Buffy the Vampire Slayer (I'm not sure -- I think Bill Nighy was in it) and wanted to watch it with us, but they were still so aggravating that we decided to get out of the house on our own for a while. We wound up on a suburban high school football field -- it was dark out except for the stadium lights lighting up the grass -- and a friend of mine, possibly Chrissy Rodney, was chasing us around in a friendly way carrying a barrel of wine above his head and spraying wine into our mouths and all over our faces as we ran up and down the field. We ended up getting very drunk and the three of us went to the nearby restroom / locker room to clean ourselves up. You know how when you're drunk, sometimes you look in the mirror and you're like, "Echhhh! I look terrible!" Well, in the dream, I literally looked awful -- my eyes were really close together and my nose was all bulbous. For some reason I started spitting in the sink, trying to clear my throat, but I kept bringing up these thick strands of saliva and hair (!) that I had to pull out of my mouth with my fingers. So that was gross. And then I woke up.
As promised, pictures of the kitten:
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Sancho came so near as almost to thrust his eyes into his master's mouth; and that was the very moment when the balsam began to work in Don Quixote's stomach; so that just as Sancho drew close to peer into his mouth the knight threw up what was in him more violently than the shot from a gun and sent it all over the beard of his compassionate squire.
"Holy Mary!" cried Sancho. "What has happened to me? Sure, this poor sinner is mortally wounded, since he is vomiting blood."
But on examining things a little more closely, he realized, from its colour, taste, and smell, that it was not blood but the balsam from the can, which he had seen him drinking; and this so turned his stomach that he threw up his very guts over his master; and the pair of them were then in the same pickle.
Wednesday, June 15, 2005
Dicks Get Licked
I've already been carping about this to various people, but at around 3:30 today, CNN pulled its top story, that Terry Schiavo was fucking braindead the whole goddamn time, and replaced it with this, which, as far as I can tell, is not news at all. It is a portrait piece; the name of the potrait is "Trash in Hell." Is this some kind of conspiracy or what?
Okay, I started this entry last week and just didn't get around to finishing it. That's just how it goes sometimes. But there's some really big news about things, and I'm a little surprised that Meriwether hasn't posted yet: We got a kitten! I'll post some pictures as soon as we have them, but the story is thus. The wife of one of my bosses has gotten herself into the business of "fostering" cats, which means taking them off the hands of non-"No Kill" shelters until they can be officially adopted by other people. So she fostered this mother cat that came with three kittens, and the kittens were beginning to drive my boss crazy. We were at a brunch party at one of the sysadmins' house and I think I'm overhearing her ask if anyone can cat-sit for her, so I remind her that I live across the street from them, which is true. Turns out she was actually asking people about adopting the kittens, so I'd just volunteered us. But it's actually okay -- we went over to meet the one she'd said she had in mind for us, and then last Tuesday she just dropped him off.
He's what's called a "classic tabby," which means he's got very well-defined black stripes that kind of make him look like a tiger. Mer's christened him "Mikey," which is a sound-alike for "M.K.," which, according to her, is short for his real name, which is "Male Kitten." Weird. Anyway, he's been sequestered in the study for the past week because he's got a mild eye infection and because Mimi really doesn't like him much at all. We're going to let him out tonight, though, and that's just going to have to be that. (In part because when he's alone in the study, he cries non-stop, which is something that I didn't think would bother me, but I find it pretty upsetting. It's been fucking up my sleep and making me all wound up.)
Other stuff, other stuff... I read Jonathan Lethem's Motherless Brooklyn, which is pretty good -- a lot better than Gun, With Occasional Music. I read practically the whole thing in a single afternoon; I went up to the roof of our building, something I just realized we can do, and drank a gin and tonic in the hot sun while reading. It was really fun -- there was a nice breeze and I could see the trees blowing around in the park -- but I'd made the G&T way to strong and after about 30 minutes I nearly puked. But, you know.
I'm finally buckling down and trying to give Don Quixote a serious read; it's a fat one, that book.
Oh yeah, here's a fun thing: Morning Sedition on Air America has been doing their show from different places around NYC -- last month they did it from City Bakery, which is the place the staff buys food in the morning, I guess, and a few weeks ago, they did it at Snotty Dick Inc., The Strand bookstore. This Friday, though, they're doing the show from the Tea Lounge, which is literally like 2 block from my house. I could totally just wake up at 5:30 and go over there and hang out until 9:00 and yea, be earyl, even, for work. It's going to be awesome.
I just found out that not only are my old favorite bunch of ironic Republicans coming to play their first show in NYC in about 2 years, but they'll be playing at The Continental on my fucking birthday! How sick is that. Tickets aren't on sale yet, but who wants to go?
Kid, there are two kinds of bears in this world -- bears that dance, and bears that do not dance.
Okay, I started this entry last week and just didn't get around to finishing it. That's just how it goes sometimes. But there's some really big news about things, and I'm a little surprised that Meriwether hasn't posted yet: We got a kitten! I'll post some pictures as soon as we have them, but the story is thus. The wife of one of my bosses has gotten herself into the business of "fostering" cats, which means taking them off the hands of non-"No Kill" shelters until they can be officially adopted by other people. So she fostered this mother cat that came with three kittens, and the kittens were beginning to drive my boss crazy. We were at a brunch party at one of the sysadmins' house and I think I'm overhearing her ask if anyone can cat-sit for her, so I remind her that I live across the street from them, which is true. Turns out she was actually asking people about adopting the kittens, so I'd just volunteered us. But it's actually okay -- we went over to meet the one she'd said she had in mind for us, and then last Tuesday she just dropped him off.
He's what's called a "classic tabby," which means he's got very well-defined black stripes that kind of make him look like a tiger. Mer's christened him "Mikey," which is a sound-alike for "M.K.," which, according to her, is short for his real name, which is "Male Kitten." Weird. Anyway, he's been sequestered in the study for the past week because he's got a mild eye infection and because Mimi really doesn't like him much at all. We're going to let him out tonight, though, and that's just going to have to be that. (In part because when he's alone in the study, he cries non-stop, which is something that I didn't think would bother me, but I find it pretty upsetting. It's been fucking up my sleep and making me all wound up.)
Other stuff, other stuff... I read Jonathan Lethem's Motherless Brooklyn, which is pretty good -- a lot better than Gun, With Occasional Music. I read practically the whole thing in a single afternoon; I went up to the roof of our building, something I just realized we can do, and drank a gin and tonic in the hot sun while reading. It was really fun -- there was a nice breeze and I could see the trees blowing around in the park -- but I'd made the G&T way to strong and after about 30 minutes I nearly puked. But, you know.
I'm finally buckling down and trying to give Don Quixote a serious read; it's a fat one, that book.
Oh yeah, here's a fun thing: Morning Sedition on Air America has been doing their show from different places around NYC -- last month they did it from City Bakery, which is the place the staff buys food in the morning, I guess, and a few weeks ago, they did it at Snotty Dick Inc., The Strand bookstore. This Friday, though, they're doing the show from the Tea Lounge, which is literally like 2 block from my house. I could totally just wake up at 5:30 and go over there and hang out until 9:00 and yea, be earyl, even, for work. It's going to be awesome.
I just found out that not only are my old favorite bunch of ironic Republicans coming to play their first show in NYC in about 2 years, but they'll be playing at The Continental on my fucking birthday! How sick is that. Tickets aren't on sale yet, but who wants to go?
Kid, there are two kinds of bears in this world -- bears that dance, and bears that do not dance.
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