Where I Am: Driving god knows where
What I’m Doing: Driving god knows where
A third of any given work day finds me driving. Maybe more. Some days it’s very definitely more, as this day found me all over Westchester.
It was fairly uneventful, otherwise.
I guess there will be a few of these.
Where I Am: In my condo complex
What I’m doing: Yet again walking from the dumpster to my car
This was my day.
Unfortunately, we were leaving the house to pick up Lisa’s car, which was left at my parents’ house when she was too tired to drive Friday night.
We had just watched The Descent, which was scary enough that we briefly considered sleeping with the television on to ward off any subterranean nightmares that may have taken up residence in our closet.
We finished the first season of The Wire the night before on the assumption that it was too late to watch The Descent as it would be too loud. This proved to be right for, although the scary scenes were not complimented by the horror movie standard of LOUD AND SUDDEN VIOLIN SCREECHES, the action was accompanied by LOUD SUSPENSE-INCITING MUSIC. Also, lots of screaming. It was good enough that I’d recommend it to anyone looking for a really good horror movie that’s just a good time and not much else.
The first season of The Wire was so good that we immediately bought the second as soon as we finished. I’m actively avoiding any details of the series except for the fact that the Amazon reviews say the second season is better than the first.
Where I Am: In my living room, on my couch
What I’m Doing: Suffering a puppy headbutt
The fact that I get my hair cut specifically to be spiked up in the front does not lend itself well to those days when I fail to spike it. Bowser rightfully attacks me for daring to pose for a photo with him while sporting an ill-defined spitcurl.
Saturday counted as Lisa’s day. Since our goals for the weekend are incredibly disparate (mine: relax and enjoy myself, hers: work interminably toward ill-defined goals that can never be achieved) we divide the days up, one each. On each person’s day the other person is supposed to do whatever the other person wants. This never works. On Lisa’s days, I cannot muster the unbridled enthusiasm for painting the unseen underside of cabinets that she demands (although, to be fair, I do paint the underside of the cabinets under protest). On my days, Lisa goes out of her way to do everything she can to make me miserable. If I want to watch a movie, there will be complaints about the movie, followed by a request that she start every noisy appliance in the house. If she protests the movie so much that she refuses to watch it (which is strictly against the rules of the day division policy) she will march around the house noisily, turning on lights and walking in front of the screen barking that her reasons for doing so are so vital that the world’s fate hangs in the balance. This goes doubly so if I decide to play a videogame on my day, since she will want to discuss all manners of things concerning the earth and the heavens. This is usually complimented by the exclamation "We never get to do what *I* want on *my* day!" a statement so ironic that irony is currently under consideration for a redefinition by the International Forum on Irony meeting in Oslo.
This particular Lisa’s Day the task at hand was reorganizationo of the kitchen. The thing is virtually complete with the exception of the purchasing and installation of new appliances and the installation of our new faucet. There’s a couple of projects, such as a new tile backsplash, that will be done in the future, but for some reason have not been ascribed the apocalyptic immediacy of the other kitchen projects. The apocalyptic immediacy was reserved for the task at hand. Suggesting that the project may take two days was enough to incite domestic violence. That the project actually did take two days was no grounds for an apology or at least an admission of wrongdoing.
Lisa insists that the above makes her look unjustifiably crazy. I explained that she is unjustifiably crazy, but I love her despite that.
She does not accept that answer.
Where I Am: In my car, by the Botanical Gardens in the Bronx
What I’m Doing: Trying out new fat person myspace poses
I was mistaken.
I believe that this is the first appearance of my cool rockin’ sunglasses. There they are.
The day after my mother’s surgery was marked by a scramble to supply her with comforts she will never take advantage of. I bought her a DVD player along with a bunch of DVDs: The Office Season 1, Fawlty Towers, the complete Blackadder, Red Dwarf I-IV, the complete Bottom, The Wire season 1, The Bourne Identity, Oldboy, Kill Bill Vol. 1 and quite a few others that I can’t remember.
They watched two episodes of Bottom, hated them, and haven’t watched anything since. I’d rather they had the option to ignore them than nothing to ignore.
Where Garry Shandling has been since Larry Sanders
The Disney Studios Employee Manual for 1943
Iguana suffering from week-long erection has his penis amputated. It’s alright, he has two. They all do.
Metafilter on Pan’s Labyrinth (most of the following links are from this thread)
Inside Guillermo del Toro’s notebook for Pan’s Labyrinth
Pan’s Labyrinth vs. Bowie’s Labyrinth
Guillermo del Toro discusses Pan’s Labyrinth
Ebert’s review of Pan’s Labyrinth
Guillermo del Toro on Fresh Air
Charlie Rose interviews Alfonso Cuaron, Guillermo del Toro, & Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu
Youtube:
It took me a minute to realize that the person playing this cover song on the guitar has no arms.
Videogame Stop Motion done with candles.
Aqua Teen Hunger Force Colon Movie Film for Theaters Trailer
Who doesn’t love an idiot with a firecracker? The indian, that’s who.
Where I Am: In the Post Anaesthesia Care Unit
What I’m Doing: Annoying my freshly-operated-upon Mother
My mother’s surgery went flawlessly. The only hitches throughout the day were due to the insane internal logic of hospitals:
1) There will always be more patients than beds. There will always be more beds than rooms.
This is nothing new. No matter what the situation, there has always been a minimum one-to-two hour wait to be admitted and get your bed. Once you’ve got your bed and they’re done poking and prodding you, there’s a minimum of a four hour wait to get a room.
2) Time is so relative it’s useless.
My mother was scheduled to go in at 9 am and come out at 12 pm. She went in at 10 am (not bad) and we got out first update as to what had gone on at 2:15 pm. We got to see her at 3:30 and were told she would have a room by 4:30 pm. She got her room at 8:30 pm. All this on top of the fact her doctor told her she would be out of the hospital within three hours of her operation. They told her when she was checked in she’d be staying over at least one night, possibly two.
3) Nothing is ever, simple ever and/or They should’ve caught this sooner.
My mother is 53 years old. She’s had several operations over the years. They noticed this time, for the first time, that she has a heart murmur. Seven of her 13 siblings have heart murmurs, so presumably this has been checked for in her lifetime (this is almost a certainty as when it was announced that she had one, my grandmother told them it was impossible as she was one of the ones that didn’t, and proceeded to list the ones that did as proof).
4) Is this unpleasant enough?
For some insane reason, the televisions (which are in every room, ready and waiting) are a pay service. The phones I understand, it does cost the hospital money each time you use them. The televisions do not. In order to get the television to work, the onscreen instructions say you’ve got to call extension 8200. Extension 8200 just rings until you give up. The operator says that the system does this a lot and you just have to keep trying. Trying until you give up. The nurse says that I shouldn’t be calling extension 8200, I should be getting a prepaid card from a machine down the hall in the room that smells like pee. I do. In order to use that card, I have to call extension 8200. My mom decided to read instead.
I imagine that hospitals like this one run entirely on the fact that if people turn out alright, they’re just happy it’s over with and if they don’t, they’re dead so they got away with it.
Since my mother’s surgery was successful and she was feeling fine, we decided it was fine to return to mocking her mercilessly but with the added twist of going after her dignity. It was noticed that the bag of urine connected to my mother was filled to the brim and the reserve bag was attached to that one was on its way there. My brother asked if my mother’s liquid diet was responsible for Lake Liz. I pointed out that the bag was marked Property of Yonkers Raceway. Good times were had by all.In a final blow to her self-respect, I documented her march down the hallway to stretch her legs. Since she had surgery, there were things to lug along with her down the hall, including her big bag of pee.
Here’s the pee parade:
I only wish I could sit on this last photo for years only to remind Lisa of the time she posed happily with my mom’s bag of pee.
After my shower I threw my towel on top of Bowser. He made a bed out of it. Here are the results.
More after the jump… Read the rest of this entry »
Where I Am: In my newly-countered kitchen
What I’m Doing: Pretending the fact I haven’t showered yet won’t show in the picture
The kitchen is near completion. The new Corian (a composite material coveted more than diamond by my wife) countertops have been installed. There’s a few pics up in the 365 Side Pics group.
This leaves the installation of the new faucet, the purchasing of new appliances and the reorganization of everything in the cabinets. It didn’t seem daunting until I typed it out like that.
That raised piece is the matching cutting board they gave us. I wonder how sanitary its usage is.
I installed a new light fixture. I’m absolutely terrified of working with electricity so it took me a good 45 minutes to do. Everything I touched was handled with the care usually reserved for surgery on premature newborns. I kept imagining myself lying dead on the floor with burnt fingertips and pants full of excrement.
More pics of the Kitchen after the jump.
