Monday, January 31, 2005

A couple of hours with Gavin and Richard at IBTs last night. It chased away the blues, that and chatting online/in person with Rusty and Archerr. At the bar, I sipped gin and tonics and Richard took my picture. I saw someone who I have a secret crush on. If he was single, well the sparks would fly. Oh my, he's a wonder.

Today's newspaper has an article based on research I conducted. I read it this morning while waiting for the plumber- third time in less than two months. Oh why didn't I buy stock in the company?

Sunday, January 30, 2005

Reading through last year's entries I came across one where I made orange juice. So today, after stopping at Border's to buy Augusten Burrough's Running with Scissors, I went out to my front yard and picked a sinkful of oranges.

The Sinkful.

You never know how much juice will come out of the oranges. This was a rather dry year, and the oranges were sorta dry as well. However, the juice was so much sweeter than last year.

The juicer attachment, I stopped when the mixer started smoking.

So I'm sitting here sipping a big glass and wishing you were here to have some with me.

Saturday, January 29, 2005

After the doctor groped me, while I was coughing, he announced that the hernia surgery had been a success. So now if/when we meet you no longer have to worry about an Alien-like explosion of intestines ruining your new shirt.

I ended up over at David G. and Abe's house and David made me some nice warm tea. we sat and chatted about vitally important issues (wrinkles, shower curtains, Maggie Spelling) and a nice time was had.

I've been seeing all of those snowy pictures and feel ashamed to admit that the wildflowers are starting to bloom in Tucson. Not a dirty sort of shame, I guess it is more of a fortunate kinda shame. This summer when it is 14 billion degrees here you can feel the same way, I guess.

Bush with yellow flowers.

Thursday, January 27, 2005

Because I'm testifying in front of the Senate tomorrow (I'm up for Secretary of Ryan Reynolds' Interior), I did a quick No. 2 makeover:



The longish hair had started to drive me crazy. I'm thinking it is more of a pain in the arse than it should be.

Ghostly shower Homer.

In other news, Corky linked to a fascinating website featuring the World Beard and Moustache Championship. Mr. Chevalier [a member of the Swabian Beard Club], featured below, was probably delighted to win "Partial Beard, Freestyle." I think I'll skip this sort of competition, it is a little too strenous for my tastes.

"Anyone in need of any plumbing that you know of. That is, for the company. I need to schedule them to come out and if any other things that need attention here, please email me by 8 Friday a.m. Thanks." Yet another strangely worded email from the office manager.

Am I in need of some plumbing? Do I need attention? These are issues that I often reflect on.

On a totally unrelated subject. The weather. Okay, so it is raining here. It has rained several times in the last week. If you watch the news you would think the Flood was starting. With their StormTracker Radar and their Doppler-Dinger Cloud Penetrating Probes and hand gestures sweeping across the map, our local weather personalities are doing their darndest to keep me from driving into flooded washes and other desert disasters. I swear all it takes is a cloud spitting on Tucson and they start scrolling "STORM ALERT 2005!!!" across the bottom of the telly. I guess it is because mostly we have clear skies and warm-to-hellishly-hot weather here, that a tiny change makes them so excited. I just need to find that one tiny change that makes me excited too.

Tuesday, January 25, 2005

Driving to Sierra Vista I really had to pee. I passed one gas station, intending to go to the usual convenience store (you know, the one that sells those yummy ice cream sandwiches!). However as I drove along I was surprised to see that my usual convenience store had had an unfortunate accident and was all burned up. The front windows were gone, the roof all charred and half collapsed. The ice cream freezer was undoubtedly toasted, as was the bathroom.

Now this was a problem because I'd had my can of diet Coke and some of it really wanted to come out. I was reminded of another unfortunate accident. The time I was driving back from IBTs late at night and suddenly had to go but there was a cop behind me, all of the way home. I wasn't sure whether he was following me, so I just plodded along, squeezing appropriate muscles, avoiding thinking about waterfalls and fountains. Finally I turned onto my street and hurried home. Except I fumbled with the fly of my 501s and I suddenly lost control. Oh no, I peed my pants. I couldn't stop laughing afterwards.

Today I didn't want to have something similar happen since I was going to the base to do research. I stopped at another convenience store, only to learn that they didn't have a public bathroom. Golldangit! I decided to just get onto the base. I had to register at the front gate and that took forever. Luckily I saw the PX and made a quick stop. The bathroom was occupied. I stood there with the very hunky army man (nice hair, hot voice, I support our troops!) and waited and waited. You could hear whoever was inside moving about, washing their hands, more paper towels dispensed. But they never came out. Finally I had to leave.

I drove the speed limit all the way to the post museum. Ran inside and was so happy to discover the bathroom was unoccupied. It took forever, ohmigod, the pressure disappeared and I was human again.

Later in the day I used another bathroom on the base that ranks high on disgusting bathrooms I have known. Not only was the toilet "soiled" but someone had very obviously "relieved" themselves all over the stall with splashes of nastiness. Yuckkkkkkkk.

And Wayne, I waved at the llamas at the llama farm as I drove by. I wish you could see them, dozens of cute, furry llamas and alpacas, wandering around in their pens. So cute!

Monday, January 24, 2005

I see dead people. Archaeologists often have to deal with human remains as they excavate land being developed for new roads, homes, businesses, or other uses. Usually these are Native American burials, since there are thousands of Native American sites in Arizona. Nowadays we quickly hand the remains and all associated artifacts (grave goods) over to tribes or nations and they rebury them on tribal lands. A law enacted in 1990 requires all museums in the United States to inventory their collections and Native American groups can request the return of burials and related artifacts, along with other religious or sacred artifacts. The process hasn't been perfect and some of the mistrust that developed between Native Americans and archaeologists over the years continues. I wish we could just leave the burials in place and not develop the land, but that is often impossible.

Occasionally historic period burials are found. Last week construction workers on the east side of Tucson found a more recent burial, perhaps 100 years old. They were stripping away dirt to build a new church building and a coffin was uncovered. Archaeologists from the university excavated the burial, which turned out to be a woman in her thirties, buried wearing a dress, now decomposed to some scraps of cloth and three shell buttons. She was buried holding a crucifix and rosary in her hand, which indicates she was Catholic, most likely a Mexican woman.

I offered to research the history of the property and was able to identify the land owner, a man born in Kentucky in 1837, and a Mexican family, the Aguilars, who lived on the land in 1900. The woman buried at the property was probably a relative or friend of those people. Later this week they will publicize the historical research I did hoping that someone will be able to identify the woman.

Crucifix and rosary beads.

In other news, beautiful day in Tucson. Warm, it rained again last night. I keep seeing frigid pictures of Boston, New York, and Chicago. Meanwhile I have to turn the AC on in my car.

The view from work.

Sunday, January 23, 2005

Third time. Sometimes the words don't come out right. Tonight I deleted the first two entries I'd written. I mean, who cares about what I think about Desperate Housewives or going to the supermarket?

Joey Cat is watching me type this. She claims she cares about me going to the supermarket. Mama Cat walks by and her toenails click on the wood floor. The bells on her collar tinkle when she shakes her head. Puff is already in bed. Later on he'll lie on top of me and I'll have to hold his paw to keep him from kneeding me, which he does when he is happy. All weekend the cats have been clamoring for attention. They are so cute and I'm glad I have them to keep me company. A boyfriend would be nice, but the next one better like cats.

Saturday, January 22, 2005

Sorting through six months worth of bills, getting ready for tax time. Now that's what I call a rockin' great time. Fuck yeah! I have a spot in my one closet where I drop bills, old letters or postcards, and GBLT material for sorting. Every six months or so I pull out the appropriate folders and drop things in. Somehow I always manage to lose one or two crucial bills and they turn up months later. Very annoying.

My day was sooo exciting. Ordered some records on microfilm for the family history books I'm writing. Went to a stamp show (I know, I'm a total geek). My mother started my US stamp collection when I was a kid. Every other year they have a nation-wide show here and I take $20 and fill in gaps in my collection. Today bought a handful of stamps from the early 1900s. Amazingly enough, there were no hot guys at the show, unless you like really elderly men. As I was looking at stamps the dealer noted that one of the attendees was blind and wondered whether he could even see the stamps. I told him he was probably there because he liked the taste of the gum they use on the back of the stamps. He laughed. Uproarious stamp humor. Yes, I can be a geek.

Chatted with Archerr and assured him I don't own a feather boa. I'm thinking of buzzing my hair off. It has been growing out now since November or so and it is getting long (for me that is). The problem is the general sparseness on top. Although some people have told me it looks good, I think it is trending towards combover status. I do not (repeat do not) want to turn into my father, who had one of those Extreme Combovers, you know the ones that start at ear level and swoop all the way over to the other ear. Nobody was ever fooled by that gimmick. So I pulled out the clippers and then chickened out, I think I'll sleep on my big bouffant and decide tomorrow.

Friday, January 21, 2005

It's raining , it's pouring, my lovelife is boring me to tears... According to a website Barbra and Donna did a duet of that song, which about sums up my life at this particular instant.

I wonder if the spammers have been spreading horrid rumors about me:

It is actually raining outside and the wild flowers I planted in my front yard should be sprouting like crazy. I was going to do yardwork tomorrow but that's not happening now.

Any suggestions on what I should do this weekend?

Wednesday, January 19, 2005

Okay so I'm all cheery today. I actually wasn't all that grumpy yesterday, but sometimes I feel the need to ventilate a little.

You know, I think everyone who dislikes our duly elected Dicktator should do something tomorrow that he would hate. Some ideas:

1). Sodomize someone you like.
2). Have a big old drink. Or two. Or three. Cause believe me, you are going to need it.
3). Burn your Hillary Duff records.
4). Call your local Congressperson or Senator's office and chat with them. If they are Republican make sure you bring up WMDs and the deficit, they love to discuss those issues! Sometimes it is best to start out with a little lie like "Oh, I think Don Rumsfield is such a hottie" before switching to one of those unpopular topics.
5). Send a love letter to Condi Rice. She's really lonely and her boyfriend is inconveniently married to that bitch Laura.
6). Sodomize someone you like. Again.

Tuesday, January 18, 2005

A list of complaints.

1). I'm reviewing comments for a report I completed. 183 comments. Not a single positive one. The commenter is a flaming asshole. I have to go for a walk every so often because I get so pissed off. I disliked the reviewer before he wrote comments on my report. I hate him now. And I tend not to hate many people (but note complaint #4 below).
2). I'm sick of stupid blog awards that are juvenile popularity contests. Honestly, what do these awards mean? The people winning them are no better than their fellow bloggers or in some cases write boring weblogs on boring topics. The people who deserve to win because of their creativity aren't winning, perhaps because it isn't important to them.
3). My insides continue to ache from the surgery and I really wish they didn't. Especially because I've been feeling like I want to go back to the gym and doing crunches and Stairmaster at this moment probably isn't a good thing.
4). George Bush is an arrogant prick. He gave the smarmiest interview recently "Well, we had an accountability moment, and that's called the 2004 election." It isn't healthy to hate people, but Bushie makes it sooo easy. He has never been accountable for anything. I wonder if he'll think about those dead soldiers while dancing with Laura at one of those balls.

My friend Reggie is in town from Orange County and we are going to a really nice Japanese restaurant tonight, maybe that will cure me of the general malaise I'm feeling.

End of whine, it won't happen again for a while, I promise.

Monday, January 17, 2005

I thought about civil rights today, on Martin Luther King Day. I was going to write something lengthy on the issue, but my heart wasn’t into it. Gays and lesbians will someday have the same rights as straight people. Religious folks and southern politicians may wish otherwise, but they have never been able to stop civil rights. That’s why we are celebrating the life of Martin Luther King instead of George Wallace or Strom Thurmond.

In other news, I’m all scruffy at the moment but you’ll have to wait for photographic evidence. My computer CPU has been declared officially dead and a new CPU has been dispatched by Dell. Hopefully by the end of the week I’ll have a computer at home and I can be back to my normal life, reading blogs at home and conducting anthropological studies of the male human form.

Sunday, January 16, 2005

When I walked into the Venture Inn the only person I knew was Andrew, who had brought along his mother's white terrier because the dog was coming off of some sort of tranquilizer. The dog was soon in my lap and Andrew and I watched guys playing pool as the dog and I got to know each other. By the time Andrew had left other people I knew were wandering in- Michael, Reuben, Doug, Jeffrey T., Jeffrey S., and so on. Patrick was sporting an especially bushy beard and moustache, it tickled when he gave me a kiss and I was squeezing his butt. I wonder what Jimbo would look like if his beard grew out a bit more?

After a couple of hours the cloud of cigarette smoke had completely fumigated me, I was ready to leave. Getting out of the bar was difficult, had to say good byes and flirt with a couple of guys. Back at home I had leftover apple pie from the dinner I made Sandy. We had watched Girls Will Be Girls and Sandy laughed and laughed, so did I. This morning I watched Saved. I'm not a big fan of the late teen girls (Mandy Moore, Hilary Duff, Lindsay Lohan), but Mandy did a great job as the over zealous Christian girl.

It is only 2:30 and I'm puzzling over what to do with the rest of the day. Call somebody and flirt some more? Organize some files? Read? I dunno, maybe I'll head home and take a nap.

Saturday, January 15, 2005

I'm in a funky mood. It is the new year, I've made my trip, work is super slow, my home computer is still broken (not buying a Dell PC again, nope). I need something or someone to distract me. A furry redhead with a quaint accent would be nice. Or a brunette. Hell, I'm not so picky at this moment.

Change of subject. Can anyone suggest a couple of good books to read?

Friday, January 14, 2005

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you not to use profanity." Apparently Senator John Kyl's office boy in Washington, DC does not like the word shit. As in "this shitty war in Iraq." I told him I grew up a dairy farm and I didn't consider the word shit profanity. He hung up on me. I then called Senator John McCain's office- his staff is always very personable. His staff person laughed when I told them about getting hung up on. Senator Kyl is an arrogant prick so it doesn't surprise me that his staff follows his lead.

Made roasted vegetables- onions, garlic, potatoes, carrots, and parsnips- last night. And then fell asleep on the couch at 7:00 PM. Hopefully I will be done with jet lag today- I got up at 5:00 AM this morning and cleaned house!

Thursday, January 13, 2005

I'm back at work. Sigh. Please scroll down for the new and improved entries, now with added photos of my trip to jolly old England. Tally Ho, I say!

My last full day in London involved two visits to Safeway with Patrick. I am enamored with English supermarkets- the food quality is much better, the portions are better-sized (as can be seen by the lack of obesity in the general population), and the amount of prepared or deli food is much larger and tastes better.

We wandered over to the Tower and a hot-hot-hot Beefeater Daddy gave a boisterous tour. Eventually I entered Homer-runs-through-exhibit mode, dragging poor Patrick behind me as I ran through the Medieval Castle exhibit, which was actually quite good.

The Tower Bridge taken from the Tower.

Later Patrick, Iwan, and I went to the Golden Heart pub and had beers until Morris showed up. We wandered out and eventually Patrick and Morris went off for a romantic date and Iwan took me back to his house and spoiled me by making me dinner while I watched the telly. We sat and discussed our lives. Such a sweety.


Wednesday morning Patrick and I missed our stop on the tube and ended up way off course. I did enjoy seeing the Thames at low tide and some interesting architecture. Hopped on the train to the airport and when I arrived I realized I was very late for my flight (it was 11:30 and the plane left at 12:05). At first I was not going to be getting on the plane, but they changed their mind and I was allowed aboard the very uncrowded flight. Northwest Airlines serves really good food on its international flight. At the Minneapolis Airport the end-results of junk food, huge portions, and lack of exercise were readily apparent. I chatted with Archerr and Jimbo (who advised me to try the deep fried cheese curds next time) before boarding a very crowded and unpleasant flight. Roger and Richard picked me up and Roger spoiled me with a nice dinner (Roger is the best cook I've ever met). Why do cute English/Welsh men spoil me? I could get used to that.

Today at home the cats were so excited to see me and I had a nice pile of bills to sort through. I also managed to miss my hernia doctor's appointment. I managed to pull something yesterday and my abdomen is a tad achy as I type this. Wouldn't it be hilarious if I had to undergo surgery again. Ummm. No.

Apologies to Panchesco for copying an idea.

Tuesday, January 11, 2005

You know it is time to go home from the bar when you see the flies buzzing around the toilet as you piss. At the end of a long day in London- breakfast, a visit to the bank machine, an internet Subway cafe, a change of shoes, a long walk past Trafalgar Square, the Eye, and lunch at the Film Center cafeteria (egg mayo tastes exactly like the egg salad I make. Afterwards a bit more cheap sightseeing. Inside St. Margaret's was Henry Layard's memorial- he excavated Nineveh. We didn't pay to go inside Westminster- I really am museumed out. A cute French guy asks for directions.

A nap and then an English meal with Patrick and Nigel. They will be attending a party afterwards, but first we go to the Yard and Bob shows up. We chat about work, American television, my like of redheads. The guys go off and Bob and I migrate to another bar and stand there and it is like a sitcom. Three scenes- the two Americans (Bob & I) chat with J.J., the South African from Capetown. Nearby is a good looking business man making a play for a somewhat weasel-like guy. Across the street, perhaps 30 ft away, fans stand at the backdoor at the Gielgud Theater, waiting for Christian Slater to come out. The cute businessman pops an erection pill while his intended is in the loo. The South African tells is he was selling electricity and gas service in Scotland door-to-door, before which he was a flamenco dancer. He is cute, perfect hair, sexy accent- and working at the moment as a security guard while looking about for a better career. Bob predicts he will be a dancer- I'm guessing a bartender. Christian comes out the back door- brunette and receding hair line- and pauses to sign autographs. The business man and skank leave together- I hope the lock on his briefcase is solid. I wonder if the pill is working. Bob says goodbye and I wish J.J. good luck. Afterwards a depressing time at CXR 79, where guys watch each other piss and become more desperate. No one chats with me, and as I head back to Bradley's flat I stop for a moment inside the bar and tell one beefy guy he is cute, he is taken aback and I wonder if I should have paused a moment, but now as I write this, three aspirins averting a hangover, I'm glad I didn't.

Monday, January 10, 2005

Patrick just told me a sordid story. I acted shocked, but I wasn't really.

We are at the Subway internet restaurant. Lots of internet stations. 100s, according to Patrick, who is good at counting. I needed to find Bob's phone number again, since when I ring him it doesn't ring.

Last night I met Iwan, Patrick's very cute Welsh friend. We ended up at a bear bar- GRRRRR. Lots of beefy shaved-headed men at the King's Arms. I only squeezed two butts on the way out, one was a red head with a very prominent bulge.

Have to do tourist things today in overcast, rainy London. He's says the Eye of London- a giant Ferris Wheel. I am all museumed out.

Big Ben and Little Homer.

I didn't smoke any of these dangerous cigarettes.

Patrick practices being a spokesmodel.

Saturday, January 08, 2005

Blustery day. The walk over to the convention center was so windy, at times I was pushed to a standstill. The Ouse River has risen three or feet so that the mossy spot I took a picture of yesterday is completely under water. I saw a huge part of a tree drift by. The BBC news is paralyzed with excitement because three houses in Wales got a couple of inches of water inside, breathless live reports as the owners waded by in rubber boots carrying their possessions upstairs. Reportedly the trains aren't running, which could be a problem because I really want to go to London tomorrow and being stuck in York another day would probably drive me crazy. All of these cute, red-cheeked guys with hot-hot-hot accents.

Paper apparently went well, although I thought it was one of the poorer presentations that I have done. Usually I put slides up and talk off of them, this time I had to actually read most of the paper. But afterwards people came up and told me how interesting it was. Had a nice shepherd's pie for lunch, but I'm still hungry. I think I will stop at the pastie shop for a bite.

Flooded York.

Friday, January 07, 2005

I lied about being over jet lag. Last night I lay awake forever, finally giving in to watch some telly. Ohmigod- they have the rottenest telly ever here. Imagine the breath-taking thrill of a darts match! And Celebrity Big Brother, with Brigitte Neilsen (the he-woman once attached to ~Sylvester Stallone)- as the leading celebrity. The Channel 4 version is played live and these celebrities have the boringest conversations. The worst show was "Sex Advisors" where a couple was filmed fucking and then the advisors gave them in depth directions on how to improve their love life. Things like, "Stop broadcasting pictures of yourself fucking on the internet" and "Masturbate in another room." The cheesiest part were the lurid pictures of them having sex, which were mostly shot with a infrared camera so all the heated up naughty bits were bright red. I wonder what the mothers of the couple thought as Bina gave Mark head, her blue head bobbing up and down over his red penis (too bad I don't know the appropriate English slang).

The Brits are also transfixed with the tsunami crisis and are doing an excellent job raising funds. However, the amount of horrible amateur video shown on the regular news- children being washed away, tourists being drowned, dead tourists on the beach moments afterwards, etc., is too awful. I would think that this isn't the best thing for children to be seeing.

Today went to Jorvik, a recreated Viking town with a fun ride-through. The best part were the smells they piped in. From experience growing up on a farm I can tell you they got the pig shit correct. Luckily, the smell thingy next to the outhouse with a grunting animatronic man wasn't working. He did groan and shake realistically, although I couldn't ascertain whether he had diarrhea or constipation. Afterward I stopped by St. Martin's church, not a popular tourist spot, but you could see the mid-15th century stained glass close up. I'm guessing my pictures won't turn out too great, but the pane with the devil was great.

The internet cafe I'm at is next to the Ouse River and a hot rower man just rowed by. I wonder if I'll meet any cute English men in London?

The Ouse River, pre-flood.

The devil at St. Martin's.

Homer at Jorvik.

Thursday, January 06, 2005

Jet lag didn't last long- a short nap and then up and had a few beers with Julie and Stacy last night and we discussed off-color topics and disgusting sexual acts, you know how archaeologists are (or perhaps you don't, which might be just as well). Tally ho! I sent a woman from a British television network to meet Julie about an American version of Time Team. It will be interesting if she gets the job.

Margaret, the woman running the bed and breakfast must think I'm a problem. First as I was taking a shower (hateful non-working instant hot water heater) and a leak developed and water coursed into her apartment below. So I had to change rooms to one with two beds that had a working heater and a nicer bathroom. Then this morning I declined the offer of a disgusting traditional breakfast- I had toast and cereal. The other guests got beans, some sort of runny eggs, and a poached or boiled peach. No thank you.

I don't think I have an accent (well, maybe a slight upper Midwest one) but many people in York have a hard time understanding me, especially Margaret, who thinks my name is OOOMERRR. "Ooomerrr," she said, "You are sure you don't want a disgusting boiled peach lying on disgusting runny eggs?"

Visited the Minster Cathedral where our tour guide had more nose and ear hair than any living human should be allowed to have. I had to avoid looking at him, literally his nose hair was a half inch long. I don't know how he plugged his hearing aid into his ear, since the bushy hair would likely act like a spring and expel the device. Yuck. The Cathedral was very lovely and when I get back to the states I'll post some pictures.

There is apparently no gay bar in York. That is unfortunate because there are a lot of cute men here.

Questions briefly answered: surgery is completely healed, I won't be bringing 50 lbs of flint back with me, and if Ryan Reynolds offered to be my bf I would say YESSSSSS! Jimbo would be allowed to take pictures, or perhaps Archerr could take pictures of the three of us.

Julie and Stacey.

The St. Mary's Abbey ruins in the background.

Wednesday, January 05, 2005

Have been awake for 24 hours. Awful tired, but trying to stay up to avoid having jet lag problems. York is lovely- went on a tour of a local archaeology office with parts dating to the 1300s. That's kinda amazing. Off to my bed and breakfast. `the bed is calling me big time.

Monday, January 03, 2005

Body image issues seem to plague a lot of gay men. A quick read through the blogs I have links for reveal a case of liposuction, several men wanting to lose weight, a number of guys vowing to work out more to gain more muscle, someone fretting about a particularly bad haircut.

I'm guilty too, I wish I wasn't losing my hair- strange because I think balding men are hot. I wish I was more inclined to lift weights and get more fit, back in the mid-1990s I did and was impressed with the results. I stopped going when I had a boyfriend, and have made only a half-hearted effort since.

It's easier to do this in Tucson, where gay guys are more natural looking. There are only a handful of muscle guys here. When I am in places like New York City or DC or even Phoenix it is disconcerting to see the steroided-out guys, walking around in too-tight shirts and loose jeans (I think because they ignore their legs). I'm not sure having those extra muscles gives those guys the right to cop such an attitude. I find it amusing, but also wish gay men didn't worship such unobtainable men to such a degree. My next boyfriend better not mind that I have a couple of pounds I could lose around my stomach.

On that note, I stole this image from Jimbo.

Sunday, January 02, 2005

I made macaroni and cheese for a little get together at Richard's house last night. It came out really well, I cut "2005" out of red pepper and put it on top. I am channeling Martha, except I'm not decked out in prison attire.

Richard and Cholla.

I was the first guest, which was nice because I had some quality time with Richard and Roger. The first couple of glasses of wine and a shot of tequila made me a bit woozy, so the rest of the evening was spent sipping diet pop and chatting with people.


My home computer remains comatose, so I trekked over to work to do important things like read email and blogs and finish my conference paper. I'm making a list of things to do- I need an extra memory card for my camera, maybe a pair of boots. I wear sandals 95 percent of the time, mostly because of an incident back in 1998 in which I pinched both big toenails and closed-toe shoes are way uncomfortable. But I guess wearing sandals in January in England is kinda crazy (I'm still going to bring them along, just in case).

Saturday, January 01, 2005

Please Brian, don't be mad. I held the camera out at arm's length, I confess, to take this picture of Sandy and I last night. I had forgotten the tripod, I'm forgetful sometimes.

Sandy and Homer, last day of 2004.

Sandy and I sat on his couch and drank a bottle of Franciscan merlot and talked for hours and hours. Finally we switched the telly on two minutes before midnight and watched/listened as the ball dropped and Regis Philbin tried to comment, although his comments were just dull and tedious.

Roger sat next to me, tired out from playing and a little flatulent. How could disgusting smells come from such a cute dog?

Sandy's partner Mark is back in Australia and I feel bad that they have to be apart for the next five months or so.

On my first morning of 2005 I watched Moulin Rouge, which ranks as one of my five favorite films (the others are Polyester, the original Manchurian Candidate, Girls will be Girls, and the Poseidon Adventure). Moulin Rouge just has the greatest use of color, costumes, clever songs. I nice way to start the year, if only I had a cute guy to watch it with me.

Hey Patrick S., if you read this can you send me an email to my email address- I'm having computer problems and can't access you email address on the comments and I don't have access to my normal email contact list!

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