I will kick it's ass. That game is mine. Rachel and I have been marathoning on The Return of the King video game, and I currently have a blistered thumb and wounded pride. I'm also going on 2 hours of sleep. When you're kicking ass, there's no time for sleep. Then I came home around 8:30 or so, and in a burst of energy, whipped the house into tip top shape. Of course, I had to do it anyway, but I thought it was still very good of me. Now off to my three and a half mile walk. Peace.

Why is it that people will go out of their way to avoid unsolicited conversation, especially with strangers, but those same people on a walk with their dog, or riding their bicycle, or out for a stroll, will say "good morning" as you pass? It must be an unwritten law, although when they have laws such as "no hanging your laundry to dry on a Tuesday" still written in the books, you think they could adjust it to add one of kindness there. Anyway, that's not the point. The point is, when you go out of your way to avoid eye contact while walking, so as not to make it weird for them (yeah, right), they surprise you with a friendly hello, a thoughtful good morning, and don't realize that it is capable of tipping the scales on what type of day you might have. It always makes me smile.

Back to my generally happy old self. Hmmm... going to be up at 7 tomorrow... I'm going to walk three and a half miles everyday. I will do it. I'm tired of being fat. That said, onward and upward. I have a headache, so I think that I'll call it an early night. Plus, there is just something about a Sunday that calls for more sleep than any other day. There's a thought. Annnnnnnnnd

SCENE.

I WON'T BE WHAT YOU WANT ME TO BE.

I WON'T BE A CONVENTIONAL DINGBAT.

I WILL LIVE LIFE ON MY TERMS.

NO MARRIAGE, NO KIDS, NO CAREER.

NONE.

I WILL LIVE EVERYDAY SEARCHING MY SOUL AND MAKING MYSELF HAPPY.

 I DON'T NEED THE THINGS YOU NEED TO BE COMPLETE.

I AM THAT ALREADY.

I just got back from Kara's wedding. She was absolutely beautiful, and the ceremony was lovely. I didn't stay for the reception, but with the heat and the gluck, I feel only slightly bad. I had to walk Sir Shagmalone this afternoon, and I think that's the first time that a male has been happy to see me. Hahahaha. Hmmm. Well, that said, I think I'll go in search of a cool beverage. Peace.

Hello. I hadn't realized that it had been so long since I updated. Of course, my life is rather uneventful, so it matters not. I had rehearsal tonight, even though the girls WEREN'T SUPPOSED TO, but then, since Joy and gang could not be there next Thursday, she offered up a trade, WITHOUT CONSULTING THE REST OF US ABOUT OUR PLANS. Of course, being me, I didn't have any, but it WAS my only day off, and it's the principal of the thing anyway. So, that being said, that sums up my life to date. Hahh. I'm going to my first wedding ever on Saturday, that of Kara and Dan, who met maybe six months ago, and all I can afford to buy them is a candle. But since the invitation was only posted on the board at work, I think that it's okay if a candle is all I buy. Well, yeah. That's it. Peace and love, all. HAHAHHA. ah.

If this was dreamlight, it played on reality with a remarkable respect for the laws of physics. The metal rack stood at the foot of a smooth dune, among scattered clumps of struggling sage, casting a precise and accurate shadow made possible by the bright votives that it supported. Prowling chimeras of reflected fire shook their lions' manes and wriggled their serpents' tails across the sand, while the silvery-green leaves of the vegetation lapped at the wine-red light, glistening as though they were tongues savoring a crimson zinfandel. The illumination didn't imprint irrationally on the landscape, as the supernatural radiance of a vision might have been splashed in gaudy disregard for reason, but integrated logically with every element of the scene.
     Also to the south but a few yards east of the candles ad even closer to the guardrail, a single pew stood in want of a church, and it faced a sanctuary and a high altar, both remained invisible. One end of this long wooden bench was buried in the slope of a dune; a woman in a dark dress anchored the other end.

-- Dean Koontz

Another Saturday, but this time, at the Mystery Cafe.

Live jazz. Live Celtic music every so often. Coffee shop. Amazing food and dining area.

These are the voyages of the S.S. Foreman and the prestigious cruiseboat Hood.

Le cafe du mysterie, a.k.a. votre maman.
See if you can spot mystery chef behind shrubbery.

Rachel, yet again, orders only an appetizer.

I, of course, had the duck. And rice. And some white smeary shit.

Here is Rachel's head. I think. Look at the pulsating globules of light behind her. Magnificent.

Okay, my cheek looks really fat, but really, it's the beginning of that guy's neck. This face also speaks to me. It says: I'm not paying fucking twenty dollars for this fucking plate of duck. But that was when I didn't know how much it cost.

I call this Dragonslayer.

Jazz man being hit on by scary wench. After twenty million minutes of conversation, she hands him her "card" with her "phone number" on it so that "she" will hear from him "about" music and/"or" sex.

I call this Boxfan.

Fini

P.S. Mat, at the end of our escapades, we thought that we should perhaps call you, but alas, we found that we had but twenty minutes to phone within our limited time-frame. Therefore, we didn't. Bye. Consider yourself not called.

Bleugh.

Do you document those moments of which you are not so proud, Mat, sir? Now everybody needs to pee sometimes, and everyone rocks back and forth sometimes, and everyone is sitting next to a car with a friend on the phone to a dude in Canada at 2am/11pm.... wait.