You know you've been watching too much Smallville when...I've been to two concerts in the last week and at both there were Caucasian, electively bald young men playing in the band(s). Now, my contacts are pretty good and I could see that they *weren't* him, but in my head, all through the performances, to me it was
Lex Luthor (the
Michael Rosenbaum version...there is only ONE Gene Hackman and I could never confuse him with anyone).
Even without cable, TV has managed to take over my brain in new and unexpected ways yet again.
Notafingahhh!!Son of a bitch Bumpuses...
The Old Man, notorious furnace fighter has passed.
Remember that IPA I mentioned? Well, you can't drink it in anything BUT a Carolina blue pint glass obtained through entirely above-board NO I DID NOT SMUGGLE IT OUT OF THE BAR IN MY PURSE means.
It's a bad pour but I needed the contrast for photograph purposes. See!? Anything for my blog...even wasting a damn fine beer.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BILLY!!!My tremendous brother-in-law turns a well-seasoned 45 today. He's a guy and they don't mind people knowing their real ages.
Shelby, make sure he knows that I recognized him in front of the whole Internets this way.
He done got edumacated in how to takes the drugs and BRING THE PAIN
From the UNC Chapel Hill football stadium, where past greats are lauded
Yesterday Pam and I did
The Road Trip and went to Chapel Hill, NC to see Keith Urban in concert. We made a whole day out of it, driving into increasingly more beautiful weather until, by the time we hit The Hill, it was 78 DEGREES OUTSIDE. Yes, really. We arrived around 1 p.m. and after getting our bearings, had lunch at
Top of the Hill. Delicious, gorgeous, and we each bought a sixer of the IPA to bring home.
We spent the afternoon moseying around Franklin Street, old campus's main drag, being assaulted by light blue paraphernalia and too much winter-white flesh in shorts and sundresses. You'd think they'd been through a nuclear winter with the amount of skin on display desperate for Vitamin D. Try Boston for a while ye cretins.
After depositing BD at a designated concert parking lot around 5 pm we made our way back to town and grabbed dinner and more beers at W.B. Yeats irish pub. I could tell I was out of the college mode when I was more taken with the hip professors having a beer with spouses than I was with the charmingly pink-cheeked and unwashed band doing a sound check for that night's "show."
*Slightly* tipsy and all kindsa high on life (including a woozy call to Kristin to get help remembering the name of the Government department building at W&M) we finally walked to the main event, the concert. Keith put on one hell of a show, singing from his full catalog but drawing strongly on his latest album,
Be Here. He also paid homage to influences like the Beatles and Billy Joel. There was a cool moment where he rode a pulley out to a mini-stage closer to the cheap (read: our) seats, and he did the requisite singing-while-sitting-on-a-stool-amidst-oriental-rugs-deep-feelings thing. The throwing in of "UNC" "Chapel Hill" and "North Carolina" to songs got a little trite after a while, but all in all a very solid show, and worth the trip.
I can say that now that I'm home...but last night, after getting on the road at 11:45 pm post-concert for the trek home, and not rolling up to my door until 4:45 am (a cool 600 miles total for the day--BD is the MACK) I had a few moments of "this was less-than-bright" self-analysis. But seeing a cop bust a guy on 95 for going 95? I ate up erry minute of it.
All you need is love...AND A SENSE OF HUMOR
I heart this shirt for so many reasons. If any of you are looking for an early birthday gift for me...or any gift at all...hook me up! Actually, just about any shirt from this site would = Happy Anne. FYI.
Goin' to the chapel and they're gonna get maaaaaaarried....
CONGRATULATIONS to Suzi and Tom who got engaged last night. That use of Valentine's Day I can get behind.
If this doesn't say "Happy Valentine's Day" what does?An email in my Junk mailbox had the following subject line:
MatureNudeAndBustyOldHoesHereBLAT.
There's an Olympian whose name is
MAGNUS MOANHe plans to pursue a porn career after his days as an athlete are over.
No, not really, but with a name like that you KNOW he should
Excellent Saturday Activity: watching the Olympics with the sound muted and instead enjoying my own soundtrack a la ITunes. And watching the snow come down. Lervly.
Hos before brosNot that I have any bros on my radar right now, but it's been a week of chillin' wit my womens:
Monday: Pizza Paradiso and
Nanny McPhee with Erin D. Emma Thompson is the SHIT and I wish she were one of my friends. She just seem so
sure.Wednesday: Lebanese Taverna and La Creperie with Pam and Susie. I was so full I didn't eat again for almost 24 hours. No, I'm not kidding.
Friday: Lost Dog, homemade cake and the Olympic Opening Ceremonies with Annie. What is it about boys who participate in winter sports? They are categorically fecking HOT. I about blew a gasket a dozen different times. (a la Joey): Boy winter athletes? Homemade cake? PUT YOUR HANDS TOGETHER.
The narrow window of opportunity...to complainI subscribe to the Washington
Post print edition, Sundays only. Last weekend my paper failed to arrive. I knew it was a lack-of-delivery as opposed to a greedy-bastard-neighbor-thieving because I didn't get my Saturday insert with all the lovely coupons and my cherished crossword either. So, no paper when I go to work at 5:30 IN THE MORNING or at 2 when I get home. I hop online and attempt to report the undelivered goods at the
Post's website. Huh. Turns out one must report a late Sunday paper no later than 10 am. OK. Considering that most papers are delivered by 3 or 4 am, I guess this is reasonable (it isn't, but I'm building up here, can you tell?).
Fast forward to this weekend: I have a plan. I suspect that I again will not get my paper, but since I don't have to be to work until 10 this morning, I have time to check! And report before the deadline!! Lo and behold I'm up, it's about 7:30, and no paper. No insert yesterday either. I fire up the Super Chiclet and begin to file the necessary missing persons paperwork when I get this message: "
The Post's guaranteed delivery deadline has not yet passed for this morning, so you may still get your paper on time. If you still have not received your paper by the delivery deadline (6:30am Monday-Saturday, 8:00am Sunday and Holidays), you may report a missing paper." That, my friends, is one narrow-ass window of opportunity. Many people aren't up by 10 on Sundays. Or if they are up, they aren't functioning well after Saturday night. Or they're up and gone and don't get back in time to meet that crucial deadline. But I think the wiley
Post people planned it that way, don't you?
Needless to say, I'm sitting here hovering over the keyboard biding my time until 8:00:00 EST (-5 GMT) when I will announce my paperless presence with authority. Don't get between me and my crossword you
Post lackeys.
Also...KT Tunstall is fecking AMAZING. I'd heard her name before as up-and-coming, but then I heard
her on Weekend Edition yesterday and was blown away. Check it out.
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