I don't get enough chances to do this anymore. Work's keeping me busy. So's having a boyfriend to please. We should all have my troubles, I guess.
It's been a pretty crazy weekend, all in all, but not necessarily in a bad way.
My new roommate and I got cable TV and internet over the weekend. Actually, in the interest of full disclosure, my roommate sat around waiting for the (tardy) cable man, and I hung around with Fozzie all weekend long.
It occurs to me that I should have a Secret Blog Name for my roommate... hmmm. For now we'll go with Betty Boop.
Don't blame me. Blame the Wu Name Generator at recordstore.com.
Anyway, while Touchy-Feely was stuck waiting for the cable man (at whom, by the way, we shake our fists), Fozzie and I made for the Prospect Park Zoo, where I went wild on what few animals were there. For it's size, I must admit, it's a pretty cool zoo. We particularly liked the sea lions. And I have to go back at some point to try to get decent photos of the red pandas, who are the cutest racoon-looking-bear-like creatures I've ever laid eyes upon. How did I not know about red pandas before?
I'm stupide, yo.
In any case, I had a great time. I think Fozzie enjoyed it. He seemed to, but when he's done with something, he's pretty clear about it, and he was done with the zoo experience when we were at the end of the "Discovery Trail" experience. I don't blame him. The other zoo patrons were working my last nerve. Especially the especially loud twelve year-old who was completely unable to correctly identify any of the animals he was looking at. At the top of his lungs. Even when he was standing next to the descriptive sign.
"Look, Papi! It's a peacock!!!"
Actually, kid, according to the sign you've just drapped yourself over, it's a crane.
"Look, Papi! It's a gopher!!!"
Uh, wrong again, Charles Darwin. It's an otter. And stop pressing your stupid nose against the glass. You're supposed to stay behind the rope.
And on and on.
Still, I enjoyed it.
After the Zoo, Fozz and I went for a glass of wine at Font of Dionysus, where he got to meet The Cajun. It was good to have two important men in my life meet each other. Now I don't have to sneak around with the one who's not my lover.
(Kidding, Fozz.)
Speaking of Important Men in my life, Topher is still off on his residency in The Heartland ("Equality before the Law," baby). Thankfully, he's been keeping me (and, I suspect, others of his friends -- the man is well-skilled at the use of the bcc, and I bless him for it) up to date with a series of "dispatches" detailing what's going on while he's there. It sounds like a pretty remarkable experience. I can't wait 'til he gets back and tells us all about it.
I love this: In order to fit in and not look like a total effete eastern snob (he's a delightful eastern snob, but not so effete, really), he's purchased some new boots and shed his customary nice shirt and spiffy sport coat routine. I think it's working. Those are the shoes to the right.
Love 'em.
Okay, so now that we have cable (and, god help me, DVR), I'm unlikely to get very much sleep. We signed up for all the HBO and Starz/Encore Channels, so I can get my fill of all my faves.
I have, I'm afraid, become completely addicted to Entourage, which I got hooked on last year in Pittsburgh. Luckily for me, I was able to watch the entire second season while I was subletting at Doug's place, and I've been able to watch all the current Season 3 episodes thanks to connections at The Velvet Prison™. It'll be nice not to have to worry about depending on someone else to watch it.
I've also, thanks to a certain person I'm never going to forgive, I'm now enslaved by Deadwood. He got me hooked on the first season after borrowing the never-opened copy I'd gotten at The Velvet Prison™, and I watched the second season on Netflix. Now I have to figure out how to catch up on the beginning of the third (and, god help me, final) season. The one thing we didn't order on the cable was HBO on demand.
Crap!
Anywho.
Unaccountably, my favorite character on Deadwood has turned out to be Ellsworth, the prospector/mine manager who married Alma Garrett at the end of the second season. I love his sass, and Jim Beaver, the actor who plays him, is delightful to watch as he plays this rough guy doing his best at smoothing out the edges while trying to do what he thinks is the right thing. For me, he's a standout in an amazing cast. Everyone else gets all the attention, but I think he's great. Maybe it's 'cuz I'm destined to spend my life as a character actor that I notice the good ones.
Well, that's it for me for now, sports fans. If you're looking for me, don't hesitate to check for the zombie in front of my TV.
It's been a pretty crazy weekend, all in all, but not necessarily in a bad way.
My new roommate and I got cable TV and internet over the weekend. Actually, in the interest of full disclosure, my roommate sat around waiting for the (tardy) cable man, and I hung around with Fozzie all weekend long.
It occurs to me that I should have a Secret Blog Name for my roommate... hmmm. For now we'll go with Betty Boop.
Don't blame me. Blame the Wu Name Generator at recordstore.com.
Anyway, while Touchy-Feely was stuck waiting for the cable man (at whom, by the way, we shake our fists), Fozzie and I made for the Prospect Park Zoo, where I went wild on what few animals were there. For it's size, I must admit, it's a pretty cool zoo. We particularly liked the sea lions. And I have to go back at some point to try to get decent photos of the red pandas, who are the cutest racoon-looking-bear-like creatures I've ever laid eyes upon. How did I not know about red pandas before?I'm stupide, yo.
In any case, I had a great time. I think Fozzie enjoyed it. He seemed to, but when he's done with something, he's pretty clear about it, and he was done with the zoo experience when we were at the end of the "Discovery Trail" experience. I don't blame him. The other zoo patrons were working my last nerve. Especially the especially loud twelve year-old who was completely unable to correctly identify any of the animals he was looking at. At the top of his lungs. Even when he was standing next to the descriptive sign.
"Look, Papi! It's a peacock!!!"
Actually, kid, according to the sign you've just drapped yourself over, it's a crane.
"Look, Papi! It's a gopher!!!"
Uh, wrong again, Charles Darwin. It's an otter. And stop pressing your stupid nose against the glass. You're supposed to stay behind the rope.
And on and on.
Still, I enjoyed it.
After the Zoo, Fozz and I went for a glass of wine at Font of Dionysus, where he got to meet The Cajun. It was good to have two important men in my life meet each other. Now I don't have to sneak around with the one who's not my lover.
(Kidding, Fozz.)
Speaking of Important Men in my life, Topher is still off on his residency in The Heartland ("Equality before the Law," baby). Thankfully, he's been keeping me (and, I suspect, others of his friends -- the man is well-skilled at the use of the bcc, and I bless him for it) up to date with a series of "dispatches" detailing what's going on while he's there. It sounds like a pretty remarkable experience. I can't wait 'til he gets back and tells us all about it.
I love this: In order to fit in and not look like a total effete eastern snob (he's a delightful eastern snob, but not so effete, really), he's purchased some new boots and shed his customary nice shirt and spiffy sport coat routine. I think it's working. Those are the shoes to the right.Love 'em.
Okay, so now that we have cable (and, god help me, DVR), I'm unlikely to get very much sleep. We signed up for all the HBO and Starz/Encore Channels, so I can get my fill of all my faves.
I have, I'm afraid, become completely addicted to Entourage, which I got hooked on last year in Pittsburgh. Luckily for me, I was able to watch the entire second season while I was subletting at Doug's place, and I've been able to watch all the current Season 3 episodes thanks to connections at The Velvet Prison™. It'll be nice not to have to worry about depending on someone else to watch it.I've also, thanks to a certain person I'm never going to forgive, I'm now enslaved by Deadwood. He got me hooked on the first season after borrowing the never-opened copy I'd gotten at The Velvet Prison™, and I watched the second season on Netflix. Now I have to figure out how to catch up on the beginning of the third (and, god help me, final) season. The one thing we didn't order on the cable was HBO on demand.
Crap!
Anywho.
Unaccountably, my favorite character on Deadwood has turned out to be Ellsworth, the prospector/mine manager who married Alma Garrett at the end of the second season. I love his sass, and Jim Beaver, the actor who plays him, is delightful to watch as he plays this rough guy doing his best at smoothing out the edges while trying to do what he thinks is the right thing. For me, he's a standout in an amazing cast. Everyone else gets all the attention, but I think he's great. Maybe it's 'cuz I'm destined to spend my life as a character actor that I notice the good ones.Well, that's it for me for now, sports fans. If you're looking for me, don't hesitate to check for the zombie in front of my TV.
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