"He's Coming Out!"

More prophetic words have rarely been spoken! After 4 hours of labor and 5 whole minutes of pushing Master Nico Florio De Angelis (aka The Baby D aka Little Lord LaQuartus) burst forth onto this freezing tundra of a land on Wednesday, December 14, 2010 at 10:13 pm. I know what you're all thinking, he already stays up later than his parents!

Apparently he blew that pop stand so fast, the staff had to rush back into the room. Some people are so pushy.

Nico tips the scale at 6 pounds 4 manly ounces and is 19.7 inches long. He is tall, dark, and handsome.



Rather than bore everyone further with my ramblings, I shall instead offer up a few additional photos from about an hour ago.

Here he is sleeping:



Here he is sleeping with his hat off:



Let's see...Here he is sleeping with his Mommy:



And finally, sleeping and showing off his manly back hair (although I confess it's not too visible in this picture):



So basically, there was a lot of sleeping going on as well as a lot of construction noise. No doubt 9 months plus in the womb (Apparently the little guy was closer to 42 weeks and this left him with some old man feet. See below for the fascinating evidence.) listening to loud-mouthed Italians and crazy barking Vizslas has made him immune to the noise.



And finally, here he is awake last night looking like a garden gnome! And yes, I did tell him he looked like a garden gnome because in this family, you've got to grow the thick skin quick!

Head's Up!

We've got a baby on the way!

Stay tuned.

Oh! Lock Me Amadeus!

Firstly, let me say that at this point I figured my next post would be devoted to Little Lord LaQuartus. Alas, he has decided to be fashionably late.

Secondly, this post may offend those of a more delicate constitution. Then again, I expect that only my friends will be reading this post so there won't be any delicate constitutions to offend.

Thirdly, there will be general douchebaggery.

Without further ado, I give you the events of the evening of Saturday, December 11, 2010.

ACT I: "The Gathering"
SCENE I: Plainfield, The Hall

All members of the Feast Party had been commanded to appear at Plainfield promptly at 4:00 pm. This early hour was set so that the tardy one, Sir Loin of Akronia, would arrive in time for our departure. Alas, this was not to happen. Although scouts were sent out to scour the countryside, Milady, our Good Sir Knight, his Lady Ludmilla, and I (the "Damsel") strengthened our dispositions with ale and hard cider. By the time of our departure, Milady's headgear had already been adjusted at least five times.

SCENE II: Lady Ludmilla's Coach, The Journey

Our journey is somewhat eventful. Although most of our fellow passengers refuse to return our "good days", we do engage the Coachman for the RTA. Shortly thereafter our own coach is nearly run off the road by a rogue Mongol in a four door sedan. Curses issue forth in the cur's native tongue (or at least what we consider to be his native tongue) and as we speed away, round eyes declare total victory! Huzzah!

But hubris is not appreciated by the gods and as we cross the border into Cleveland, we are nearly side swiped by a hasty moor! Chastised, we spend the remainder of the journey in prayer.

SCENE III: Trinity Cathedral, The Vestibule

Shaken but not yet stirred, we enter the vestibule, check our coats, hit the loo, and wait upon the tardy Sir Loin. As we wait, the Lady Ludmilla is approached by a gentleman in a goatee. He asks her is she was once attached to Thompson, Hine & Flory to which she replies "aye". The gentleman is none other than Dave (the) Miller, the former majordomo of the aformentioned TH&F. Much hilarity ensues (just trust me, it's hilarious).



We take our pictures and people watch. I have already counted three Tudors who must have traveled in the Tardis with the Doctor as last time I checked, we were in 10th century Bohemia! It is also decidedly monk heavy, a couple of whom were apparently of the Naval Order as they used square knots.

As we place wagers on whether Sir Loin will arrive pre-pig procession or post-pig procession, his Grace appears. Now when I say "his grace", I really mean "my liege" because it has become clear that our noble knight has been transformed into a King!

Behold, John I, King of Akronia!

At this point, we are invited into the Hall for mulled wine and cider.

ACT II: The "Feasting"
SCENE I: The Hall at Trinity

The mulled wine is kind of foul. Not that it's ever less than foul, it's just that this year it's made with what I assume was once a white wine so it has a puke yellow color to go with its aromatic bouquet and delicate flavor. Luckily, they run out of the stuff so we aren't really tempted to drink more than two cups.

Sadly, there are no good pictures from the Hall so I can only hope that my meager words can paint a grand picture in your minds. There were more Tudors (thank goodness the Tardis is bigger than it looks), other "kings", many smelly peasants, monks and clergymen, very bad bodices barely containing heaving bosoms, and one orange clad Amadeus! Yes, I said Amadeus! I confess most people just don't get the difference between 10th century Bohemia and 16th century England but saints be praised, surely one must comprehend that the Age of Enlightenment followed the Renaissance therefore choosing knee-length breeches, an embroidered waist coat, and a powered wig might not be best. Verklempt, I turn to a burly peasant and exclaim that someone should tell this guy he's missed it by at least 800 years! He offers his own costume up in sacrifice to which I reply, "You good sir have taken on the countenance of the universal peasant". I explain that his look is considered a "classic" and that one can never go wrong with dung colored clothing on such an occasion. He is pleased that he has made a wise selection and pleased at his elevation to "Universal Peasant". As we move on to the feasting hall, we discuss ideas for a progressive blog.

SCENE II: The Great Hall

Although we were shown a seating chart, we either lack cartographic skills or just weren't paying much attention. After circumambulating (it's a word, I swear) the nave three times, we find our seats.

To my left, the table consists of a very bawdy wench who is in attendance with her mum (she is from England) and her sisters. I warn her that we are sometimes a little obnoxious and she replies that last year she played Lady Hysteria and lets out a shrill cackle. Well, we are cool on that side!



To my right, we have the Highlander, his friend a Black Knight, and the Lord and Lady Douchebag. As the conversation turns to kilts, Lady Hysteria recognizes the Highlander as someone she knew (in the biblical sense) in high school. We are cool on this side as well.



We sit and we notice there is no wine on the table and there are no wenches serving ale. We get rowdy. Really, really rowdy. A haughty women takes the stage and lectures us on behavior and over indulgence and other things I didn't quite catch because I was too busy being indignant! Who is this woman and what have they done to my feast? King John asserts his authority with the servants and returns to tell us they are having issues pouring the beer. It takes a while but the spirits finally start to flow and soar! Can I get a "huzzah"?

Milady then discovers that Wolfgang is one table behind and to our right. We can now see his face and we are forced to wonder if this is not the same Mongol who nearly ran us from the road on our journey down. We regale him with many hearty choruses of "Oh, lock my Amadeus!"

So we eat, we drink, but not so much as in former years as apparently there is a plague ravaging the land. A charming young Wenceslaus visits our table. He is much better than last year's William the Bastard. The Highlander describes his bizarre haggis injury, the Highlander's wife eventually speaks, I am shushed by the table behind us (yes, you read that correctly, I was shushed at the Trinity Cathedral Medieval Feast), Lady Ludmilla brilliantly delivers Shakespearean insults to all, and the King tries to kiss Milady.



Our King then crashes the "play" (I have never paid attention to these) as does Lady Hysteria. People laughed but I really have no idea what it was about so here is a picture..



We sing the carols and taunt the King because last year he said "let every heart prepare his room". That will never get old!

Before we know it, the Feast has concluded but not before Sir Drinksalot drank a lot. How he remained upright remains a mystery but I took complete advantage of the sitch by tweaking his plate and tickling his mail (I didn't even bother to tell him that the plate was late. See I can go with the flow?) We return to our coaches to drop a bomb on Little Italy. Oh yeah...

ACT III: The "Douchebaggery"
THE SCENE: La Dolce Vita, Little Italy

Lady Ludmilla, Good Sir Knight and I arrive first. They wait outside while I head down Murray Hill to find King John and Milady. I wink at everyone I see. There is more headgear adjustment but honestly, we all look fabulous.

LDV is totally packed. We see some people we know, some of whom actually act like they know us back. I see Jim (sorry can't remember his last name) and we discuss music, his band and his penchant for writing ironic songs about sex and sexuality. I say, "Oh, you must love the Buzzcocks" and he actually says "I've never heard of them". That is the strangest thing anyone has ever said to me.

Good Sir Knight and Lady Ludmilla scamper off home. I request that they make an effort to do everything in their headgear. Milady holds court. King John gets petulant and a little jealous. I tell him to shut up and get some beer and the next time I see him, he is surrounded by Ladies in Waiting. This is a common theme. I have a long blond wig on so the guys talk to me. I get sick of explaining the get up. Milday and I dance to "Just Like Heaven" and later, we both get goosed by her cousin. A goosing of monumental proportions and we thank our lucky stars the chastity belts held!

In general, the music totally sucks and white people can't dance to the hip hop. There are a few charming men who are able to carry on a conversation, one about history (until his date got pissed off), one about hockey, and one about a little bit of everything. Mostly, it's kind of douche-y in there. A little before 2:00, it gets really douche-y (for those of you who know, read between the lines) and after a brief encounter, we escort Milady out the door. Huzzah!

Hey Little Sister What Have You Done?

Saturday: My Crappy Kentucky Home (First Period)

Puck Drop: It takes a long frickin’ time to get to Kentucky and when you get there, it’s brown. Where is the blue grass because I haven’t seen it? You drive all the way through Ohio, tormented by Grandpa’s Cheese Barn and Village and signs that tell you that H E Double Toothpicks is real (you’re in Southern Ohio, as if you don’t know that already!) and when you finally do get to the verdant hills of Lincoln’s birthplace, it’s as brown as the bourbon they shove down your throat. Not literally mind you but figuratively; what with the tempting copies of “The Bourbon Review” in your hotel room. Then, when you open your gift bag there is bottled water and two cans of Ale8.1, which despite its misleading name, is a soft drink or sodie-pop as I a-fear they might call it down here.

Penalty Laura: Minor for Unsportmanlike Conduct

Now if you ‘re thinking, “Wow, what a bitch! Road trips really don’t agree with her”, you’d be wrong. I had been in a fine mood. We stopped for lunch at some place called the Tip Top in Columbus where I had a most delicious stout that had been aged in a bourbon barrel and a ham and cheese sammich with slaw and sweet potato fries. The sun was shining and the weather balmy. It’s not until we reach the Downtown Hilton in Lexington, Kentucky that I get a little crabby. You see when I go to check in the guy tells me he only has a handicapped accessible suite available. I give him the stink eye. I’ve had this reservation for two months and I’ve been stuck with those rooms before and they suck. I say that I will take any room with any combination of beds for the same rate but not handicapped accessible. He gets all persnickety and tells me that this will be “very tricky you see”. Not my problem. I get my room and it’s not handicapped accessible. It’s also not equipped with complimentary wi-fi. It’s $4.95 for two hours or $9.95 for 24 hours but you need to go down to the Front Desk and get an adapter. Then if you have issues, you need to call the Support line at the ISP. Apparently when the Iron Curtain fell, it fell on top of Kentucky. It’s like the bloody Middle Ages down here.

Now you might be thinking, “Laura always travels light. Why would she be worrying about wi-fi for her laptop?” Well, the Red Wings (as crappy as they have been the last two games) are playing in Phoenix and I wanted to use Sling Player to connect to my DirecTV box at home and watch the game on a relatively decent sized screen. That’s out. Instead of curling up on the sofa with my iPad, some Founders Red’s Rye PA, a bowl of popcorn and a 53 inch TV, I’ve got my iPhone. Still I am English (in my own mind), stiff upper lip and all. I suppose it could be worse as now I can transpose these exciting activities in “real time”. “Real Time” at the moment is spent perusing the Travelhost. Oh look, the Mary Todd Lincoln House is nearby but is sadly closed on Sunday (sorry Stacey). As is Kentucky’s Largest Corn Maze. Hey, there is the Kentucky Proud Market…wait, no, that’s not open on Sunday either. So I look at the “itinerary” for the wedding festivities, I see that we need to be ready for pick up tomorrow at 4:00 pm sharp (really, it says “sharp”) and that the shuttles heading back to the hotel start at 8:00 pm with the last at 10:00 and that there is an invitation to meet up at the hotel bar (the Bigg Blue Martini) at 10:30, cash bar. Rock on motherfuckers! Can someone beer me please?

Goal (PPG): Lexington (Assists: Downtown Hilton Lexington, Surly Front Desk Dude)

At 7:15 I go to the lobby to meet Larry and Christina. They are not there so I put on Hockey Night in Canada and wait. I see Maria and Archie and we head into the hotel restaurant to say hello to the wedding party before we go to dinner. Archie doesn’t drink but he does tell me that he could use a drink. And it’s only Saturday.

Dinner is two pints of Guinness and Fish and Chips. More than acceptable.

Back in the room, watching the stupid Wings on my iPhone (who just gave up a goal in the last 10 seconds of the first period. Morons!) with the NLCS on mute, I am otherwise content. I am also testing out the Sleep Number bed. This one either doesn’t work right or it’s a load of crap because it feels too hard on both sides and the right is at 15 and the left is at 75. Kronner scores the winning goal in OT. Blissed, I fall asleep to a less than dramatic episode of the First 48.

Goal (EV): Laura (Assists: De Sha’s Grille & Bar, Sling Player)

Score at the End of the 1^st Period: Laura - 1 Lexington - 1

*FIRST INTERMISSION*

(Queue the Organ Music)

Lindsay Wagner lies! The Sleep Number bed does not rock. It does not conform to your body instantaneously. In fact, it doesn’t really confirm to your body. Soft is not really soft either, it’s just not inflated so instead of sinking into the marshmallow goodness of my pillow top bed, you kind of drop down to the mattress level. I miss my bed.

****

Sunday Day: I Question Your Commitment to Sparkle Motion (Second Period)

Puck Drop: I expected to sleep late but the walls in this place are made of cardboard and the dude in the room next to me got a wake up call at 7:00 plus he pees like a racehorse. I already have plans to nap the afternoon away. I leave the hotel and head to the 20^th century (Starbucks) where I know they have coffee and free wi-fi. I get my venti and select a seat next to the window. Bliss. I am connected to the outside world within seconds. I slowly peruse my favorite hockey blogs. Christina stops by and we confirm plans to meet up at 11:00. Archie pops in and sits down next to me. He is on a coffee run for Maria. Seriously? She can’t walk over and get her own beverage? He tells me of their journey, alternating between bitch outs and the silent treatment. I ask him what his plans are today and he tells me Maria has to get her hair and make up done at 10:00 so maybe he can meet us for brunch. At 11:00 Archie tells me he can’t make it after all. He has to take Maria’s dress to get it pressed and some other stuff that I blocked out because I couldn’t believe HE IS TAKING MARIA’S DRESS TO GET PRESSED!

Penalty Laura: Minor for Unsportmanlike Conduct

What can I say? Maria is Sean Avery to my James Wizniewski (just google “Wizniewski gesture” if you don’t get the reference). I know I should ignore her and skate away but I find myself making an obscene gesture. Now I don’t really don’t care that Maria was originally disinterested in this wedding nor that she acted like a complete and total ass over the whole thing. It’s Maria so it’s kind of expected. But to go from unenthused to acting like a diva is a bit much for me to take. To expect Archie to act as your driver and valet is even worse.

Lexington does not score on the power play however they do pick up some momentum from the man advantage. After meeting Larry and Christina and finding out that the Urban Spoon listing is outdated we end up back at De Sha’s for lunch (they don’t serve breakfast). The shrimp and grits are luscious. As we sit there, the place fills up. It’s families. Families with little girls dressed in cheerleader outfits with sparkle on their faces. They are everywhere. It’s a competition or meet or something. Larry and Christina head back to the hotel for a nap and I walk the streets of Lexington. There isn’t much and what there is, is closed so I head back to the hotel for a nap. My room has still not been cleaned but luckily it doesn’t need it.

Goal (EV): Lexington (Assists: Urban Spoon, the Lord’s Day)

Score at the end of the 2^nd Period: Laura – 1 Lexington 2

*SECOND INTERMISSION*

{Ignore the dots because I can't get rid of them}

(Queue the Organ Music)

In case you are wondering, I did not get a nap in. I tried but the Sleep Number bed hates me.

****

Sunday Evening: Come on, it's a Nice Day for a White Wedding! (Third Period)

Puck Drop: At 4:00 I meet Larry and Christina in the lobby and head out to the winery. It's quite nice in the country but it still doesn't make me love Kentucky. I see Maria (immediately A Flock of Seagulls "I Ran" is playing in my head) and Archie. I can say that Archie is the first “stud” in my stable and that his niche will be the menopausal Southern gal. In fact, he is the hit of the party with the ladies and the men. I make a note of his marketability. There is pre-wedding wine but no beer and I can't go wine to beer because that's queer so I drink tea.

We then head out to the vineyards for the ceremony. Flip flops are available for the ladies. The ceremony is a wedding ceremony. I try not to pay much attention or I will roll my eyes. It was short so that's was a plus.

Here are some pictures that Larry took because he

was on the aisle. The weather was quite nice.

I think if the career in advertising ever falls through, he

should become a wedding photographer.

After the ceremony, we head back to the barn but when we arrive we are told we weren't supposed to go there. It's photo time! Crap! In fact, Maria calls Larry to find out where we are and when I say, "she didn't call me" (well, she did but I didn't have my phone), he says "come on Katherine". Damn! I really hate posing for the photos. I try desperately to not be seen but this photographer is relentless with his "I can't see you in the shot" shtick! It sucks but I am in such pain that Antony takes pity on me and absolves me from the "Anthony and Aunt" pairing. Disaster averted. I then amuse myself by taking my own pictures. Take a deep breath, I bring you the "Judy Jetson" in all it's glory (remember, Archie had to press this earlier in the day as it's kind of an important detail):

We then head back to the reception where there is the usual eating and drinking. I peruse the crowd for my favorite dress. It's the Pretty in Pink (Trademark to Chris):

There is Fancy Pants but she never got close enough and stood still long enough so the photo is blurry and really doesn't capture the 70s feel of the shift and the fact that those are black leather (or pleather) pants:

And finally, Judy...I mean Maria smiling:

We enjoyed watching the white people dance. Maria, fresh from her mother/son dance to "Stand By Me" in which there was as little actual dancing as I've ever seen, refuses to dance with Archie. I take him to the dance floor for some rub a dub when Bob Marley comes on. Archie can't rub a dub and doesn't know it's Bob. Shameful. At some point Maria tells me her dress (the Judy Jetson model to the bride’s mother’s Jane Jetson dress that I sadly did not get a picture of but it was just like it except it was a pale green and not purple) cost $400.00. That is not a typo. I didn't choke either. I kept it together. That is really how much she spent on her dress. She also feels she has a bit of junk in her trunk. Home girl has issues. As we leave I sign the Guest Book "Homey don't play dat shit! Archie".

After the wedding, we hit the hotel bar (the Bigg Blue Martini as everything is big and blue in Kentucky) and are forced to listen to a douche (the bride’s cousin) talk to Archie about being a DJ. When he drops the Lil Wayne bomb, I gots to go. I tell Archie that the dude needs to be driven to East Cleveland and left there. Is it morning yet because I really want to go home now. At least the Venture Bros. is on.

Goal (EV): Laura (Unassisted)

Score at the end of the 3^rd Period: Laura – 2 Lexington 2

****

Monday Morning: Take Me Back Home Yeah! (OT)

It's Monday and business travelers have checked in. The wake up call comes at 6:30 am. Lexington is pressuring but I hold them off and head to Starbucks. Coffee eases the headache just a little. It's not a hangover headache, it's a sinus headache. Teefs hurt! We leave about 9:00 am and head to the Interstate along side a corrections officer who is transporting a prisoner. I know the feeling dude but at least I am being set free!

Goal (EV): Laura (Assists: Christina, the Jetta wagon)

Final Score: Laura 3 - Lexington 2 (OT)

Drunks! Nightmares! Sinnings! Oh My!

To properly begin this travelogue, I feel compelled to take a step back to the evening before my journey begins because it is also the same day that I began my journey. For some reason I honestly thought that if I went to the game with Greg, George, and Joy, I'd be home by like midnight or something. Sometimes I can be so foolish!

In any event, the journey begins on Tuesday with a jaunt out to the Indians game with the aforementioned folks. Add to that Rocco (you'll meet him properly later), Josh (a recent newlywed in our season tickets group), and Horky (known as "Porky" thanks to my mother). Because the Tribe is so awesome this year, we are in trade in month. Everyone has tickets because everyone has bailed so now we can turn them in and all go to games together, which is really cool because it's really hard to watch.

Game night starts with a slow trip downtown (George was driving Greg's Caddy and we all felt we'd get pulled over because he looked like a kid who'd stole his parents car). It was slow because Joy would not let George exceed 35 MPH. Good times. By the time we park at West 6th (because our "group" thought it was East 4th), go to Metropolis and get ignored, and walk over to the Nauti [sic] Mermaid, we are in dire need of refreshments. Greg wants an extra dry martini but when he orders it, the server says, "we can't make that as we don't have any Dry Vermouth". Since this lack of "extra dry" knowledge does not sit well with colossal boozers, it takes about 5 minutes to finally order a round. I get a 22 oz. Guinness and chug! Greg orders a huge pile of Oysters which I call "snot on the half shell". This then upsets Joy who is nursing her Heineken Light. She adopts a pout that lasts until much later in the evening (wait for it...).

After massive consumption of snot, crab cakes, fries, and booze, we walk all the way to the Jake or the Pro or whatever. We meet up with Josh and his 12 Year Old Friend (he just looks 12) and grab some seats. There is a game. It's against the Anaheim Mighty Angels. We don't lose but for the top of the 9th, I am required to leave. Joy must meet her brother at Flannery's and Super Douche (who has now found his rhythm) Chris Perez hits the mound. I tell everyone that if I don't leave he will walk the first three batters and serve up a home run ball to the next guy. We won because I left. You are welcome!

At Flannery's I meet a guy from Philly and, as I am wearing my Wings hat, am quizzed on hockey. The conversation covers Ed Hospodar (Do I know his nickname? Yeah, it's Boxcar you amatuer!), Ron Dugay (Who was the hot guy all the chicks loved?), Jaromir Jagr (The Douche thinks he still plays for the Pens and his team is in the Eastern Conference!), and other topics. I demolish him and he doesn't even know it. At this point, the game is over and everyone else shows up. There is much rejoicing! Not really, just a lot of drinking. Joy begins to smile after the triple espresso vodka shots (it's a foreshadowing) and she makes friends with a guy from York and enemies with some guy who had been at HOB for the Deftones.

We move on, fights narrowly avoided, and our work done. Where we go, I don't know. I mean I know where (as in which direction we went) but what the bar was called, I know not. It is a loser bar although not a dump from a physical standpoint. There Rocco tries to pick up tw0 "sisters" (i.e. lesbians). It doesn't work but I have a creepy picture with the "dark one" moving in or out of the shot. Rocco leaves shortly thereafter - in a huff - we later find out that he took a cab.

Now, I have stopped drinking because I can't breathe but everyone else is still going strong, especially Joy. There are Red Bull shots (oh good, more caffeine and alcohol) and Joy is singing and dancing. Now it's important to note the singing and the dancing because at this point, Joy is beginning to think that someone has slipped her a mickey. As we leave, it's about 3:00 in the a.m. Joy's brother asks if he can spank me and is upset I am going to San Diego so I can't go home with him. After an ill advised ride home, during which Joy becomes convinced that not only was she slipped a mickey but that mickey was a hit of acid ergo (I know, ergot is an awesome pun) she is tripping, I crawl in bed where I don't sleep much because I still can't breathe.

It's 9:30 a.m. before I know it and then 12:00 before I know it but I am surprisingly competent. I can't say the same for RTA. It took me 2 hours to get to the airport and left me no time for lunch. On the plane we got the "beverage service" and the smallest bag of pretzels in the world. By the time I land in Houston, I look like Ghandi and I have a text from Stacey. She says "burrito" so I go find me one. It's delicious and I adore it so I took its picture. I still miss it! The rest of the journey is uneventful and Nancy and I spend a pleasant evening drinking champagne and eating stuff.

Thursday we walk and come back to the house to swim. As I am changing, we receive our first visit (Nancy's second this week and it's important to note she was in her nightgown for the first) from a guy who is interested in Jack's place. He is rich, a builder, has a trophy realtor/fiancee, and a tape measure. They are both nice and the best part is that they are causing the realtor on Nancy's side fits (Nancy didn't pick her) because they come over without talking to her first even though that is apparently impossible. After the visit, some swimming, and some more champagne, we head out to the sea shore for drinks and eats with Nancy's offspring. They are both charming and very polite.

After dinner we head back to Nancy's with her son John (Mandy goes home to La Jolla) and drink some more. We attempt listen to some music and discuss our favorite bands. John asks me who my favorite band is and after I hem and haw about the concept of "favorite", I tell him The Cure. We then listen to some Cure on his phone and I lecture him on the "early years" (i.e. "since Singles"). This conversation is important. It is also important to note that earlier in the day I had noticed a cookie jar in the kitchen. It was an antique so I asked Nancy about it. Apparently Jack had bought this for his mother when he was very young and we figure it's from about 1940. We both agree that it's awesome and that if she takes anything, she should take the cookie jar.

After dropping John off at his house, we retire for the evening. I am soon asleep. I am soon dreaming. I am soon whining. Someone wake me up. I am being chased by a pale chubby midget with jet black hair, red lips, and small fangs. I so hope Nancy did not hear me. I find out the next morning, she did. As I sit there, I look up at the cookie jar and immediately understand my dream. Allow me to illustrate:

Cookie Jar

+

Robert Smith

= Crazy Ass Nightmare (I know, the still from Lullaby is a phenomenal touch!)

After we have laughed at me for a while, we go for a walk and then swim and hot tub. As we get ready to go out (i.e. get in the shower), they (the dude and his realtor/fiancee) show up to measure again. I make them wait until Nancy gets out of the shower but as usual, she lets them in to do their thing. In response, the dude offers to buy us dinner at a nice steak house nearby. He leaves Nancy's name with the restaurant and are told to get the lobster. We don't but we do enjoy a nice dinner despite the piano bar (I don't believe you can call it a piano bar if it's a synthesizer). Dinner was delicious and we are sure Nancy's realtor will be seriously pissed. I do not have another nightmare.

Saturday we walk on the beach. It's so lovely. We head home to shower and snack. During the snack, I meet Nancy's neighbor Vodka Lady. She is lovely and has perfect red nails and when she leaves Nancy explains the story of her live in nurse, Ted. Ted is short for some Philippino name and Ted is a lady, a lesbian lady. Vodka Lady's husband apparently never knew she was a he and hence allowed Ted to bathe him. We go to La Jolla. Nancy is a good sport because she hates La Jolla. We find Jack's favorite brew pub and have a couple of pints and some eats in his honor. Sufficiently fortified, we go shopping. Nancy decides she really likes "Peter Lik" (we hardly noticed the "Gallery") and there is much chuckling. I buy myself some earrings. We then try to have drinks at a couple of places but it's Saturday and it's too busy. We pass on the Sperm Bar (actually it's the Whale Bar but they are all Sperm Whales in the mural so it's the Sperm Bar) even though Nancy likes it. Heading back to Del Mar, I take a couple of nice shots (see below):



It's not really the moon there on the right, it's the sun. There is no flash on the iPhone. We then watch the sun go down and talk to a conspiracy theorist. A perfect way to end the day and the trip. The flights were fine and I believe the Ladies Man was on RTA on the way home from the airport.

You Know How I Know You're Gay?

Yeah, hold that thought because we'll get to the Coldplay!

First, apologies for the delay. I've been busy doing a lot of nothing and waiting for a rainy-ish day in which to pen this next exciting installment. So, without further ado, I bring you the blog entry on the wedding of the year!

As you may remember our heroines were looking forward to a weekend away from the grind of not having to wake up and go to work. This doesn't mean we (I am far too lazy to continue in the third person) don't get stressed. We do. Very stressed. It's just that our stress inducers are different. They live in the brown house across the street. They gave birth to us. And in some cases, they wear fur and live with us. They can just sense when we are dreaming of a get away so there is simply no better time to contract HGE or develop a face swelling infection. After three nerve wracking and expensive days, we are finally able to pack our bags and get out of town!

Our chauffeur, let's call him Ron, arrives on time and we are quickly whisked away to Cleveland Hopkins International Airport. As usual there are no lines and after successfully navigating the moving walkway, we deposit ourselves at Gate D9 for our on time departure to Reagan National Airport. I decide that I should get a coffee and as I drop my bags, I look up and see the co-pilot for our flight walking out of the jet way. I notice that he is tall, dark and handsome with the added advantage of having some fairly piercing blue eyes. A combination that since Randolph Mantooth, has always grabbed my attention. I alert Stacey but she is too busy texting some dude who is not tall, dark or handsome. I shrug. What more can I do. After waiting far too long for a cup of questionable coffee, we board our express jet and are immediately informed of various safety precautions by our flight attendant, Natasha. Now I don't think her name is Natasha. I only call her Natasha because she has a Russian accent and as soon as she makes her announcement, Stacey runs to my seat (I am two rows behind) to say "Moose and squirrel". Yeah, it's going to be like that. The short flight is uneventful and we soon arrive at our gate. I tell Stacey I will meet her inside as she has gate checked her bag. A few minutes later, she bounds up the jet way, bag in tow, with this silly smirk on her face. She says, "Oh man, the co-pilot is hot! Did you see him?" Whatever...

The Metro ride to the hotel is fairly uneventful other than we thought we'd be smart and by an "all day" pass only to find that the "all day" pass doesn't work until 9:30 a.m. and it's only 9:15. After purchasing a one way ticket to get to the hotel, we wait on the platform until a little after 9:30 at which time our "all day" pass would have worked! We check in and call Hallie and agree to meet her at a restaurant that is not open but we do hook up and head on out to the Mall. As we depart the Metro station, Stacey manages to fall over some crates. That's one. At least two guys come to her aid. It's all very gallant but it's like 95 degrees with 98% humidity by this time and we need to hit the WWII Memorial before we melt. After navigating the morons and very fat sweaty Americans (see left), we arrive. It's lovely but I can't help thinking it looks like Albert Speer designed it (see right).

At this point, we are melting so we head to the National Gallery to lay on the marble floor. We end up spending a very lovely, cool afternoon amongst some of my favorite pieces of art. We are the only people laughing and having fun. Everyone else walks very quickly and then takes pictures of the important pieces of art that they were there to "see". I can say that the one place they do stop is in front of the grossly overrated portrait of Ginevra de Benci. I can only assume they believe that there is a secret code buried somewhere in the small, drab piece. I look around and notice no tall albino monks but still decline to look at it professionally. It's kind of like when The Cure play Love Song or the Bunnies do Lips Like Crack and I dance ironically. But soon we are off to the Boticelli's, the Rosso's, the Bronzino's, the Hals', the Ingres', the Whistler's (yes, I love Whistler). The day is full of classic art history one liners: "Sir Jeffrey, get that monkey off your back", "Boy, that's a really ugly baby Jesus", and the instant classic, "And how can you miss a Rodin!". Well, you can't. We view some of the recent acquisitions, including White Bread by James Rosenquist (sublime) and Bagpipe Player by Hendrick ter Brugghen (one of the loveliest paintings I have ever seen) and the Munch exhibit (how uplifting). Stacey runs into two of her favorite men, Napoleon and the Security Guard from Louisiana. Sadly, the afternoon must end as we have to return to the hotel and wash off the afternoon's stank as we are attending the pre-wedding BBQ at some swanky private club in Georgetown established in 1796.

Refreshed and redressed, we get in our taxi only to find that our cabbie is not real happy about driving from Dupont Circle to Georgetown at 6:00 pm on a Friday night. I can understand. The traffic sucks, it takes forever, and the fare is low. It is one of the worst cab rides I have ever had and I have had a cabbie fall asleep on me. Stacey doesn't agree but then she was on the phone with her mother discussing Charlotte's personal habits. As we descend from our coach, whiplash now fully developed, we are met at the door by Joanna (the mother of the groom) and Rhonda (the step-mother of the groom). Now, I know a lot about Rhonda even though I've never met her so it requires all my social skills to not make faces at her. Luckily, we head right to the bar and then meet up with Tom (the step-father of the groom) on the patio where our evening transpires.

It is here that we meet Joanna's siblings, her nephew Fauxhawk, and the future Attorney General of West Virginia (in the yellow pants). Smashing! We meet Fauxhawk's brother who has been living in China and has brought his Cambridge educated English girlfirend to the wedding. She asks Stacey and I if we are "business partners". Now, I've spent a lot of time in Old Blighty but I've never heard it called that before. She gets away from us as soon as possible as it's "catching" I hear. At some point I notice a waiter who keeps darting in and out of the tables. He intrigues me. He looks like the D-List version of Stephen Dorff and even though I try desperately to get his picture, he eludes me. At some point, Stacey stops him and chats him up. He's French (what else?) but from some town she's never heard of so I determine that he is actually Belgian. Stacey attempts to explain the "Stephen Dorff" thing but it goes nowhere and she dubs him "The Dorffmunder". You know, like the beer Dortmunder, a pale blonder lager! The allusion is sheer perfection so we call it a night.

Saturday is a big breakfast and a day by the pool. Delightful and uneventful. Refreshed we shower and dress for the wedding. We hit the bar for a pre-ceremony refreshment and then cross the street to another private club. This one is swanky as well but only dates to the mid-19th century. Still, it's nice. We take up our seats for the ceremony and admire the artwork. Stacey calls that the bride's niece will have a temper tantrum during the ceremony. She does. Now as ceremonies go, it was fine. I can't say I paid much attention to anything other than the music. The had a nice five piece (I am guessing here as I never counted) that was playing assorted Beatles songs as people filtered in. The songs for the ceremony included The Verve's Bittersweet Symphony, the Bryan Adams "classic" Everything I Do I Bloody Well Do For You" (during which I kept looking around for Alan "The Sheriff of Nottingham" Rickman) and finally, Coldplay's Viva La Vida. At which point, I knew they were gay.

After the ceremony, I move to get a closer look at my sassy dude. He is sassy isn't he? Joanna's brother joins me. He has no idea why I am staring at this painting until I tell him he's my dream man, "Romantic, poetic, and slightly syphilitic". I think he believed me. We then move on and grab drinks and run into the lovely Joanna and Tom.

We drink some more and then mosey on in to the ballroom area. Stacey and I don't know we are supposed to sit with Joanna and Tom so, like a couple of good Sicilians, we find a table by the wall and face the door. We are soon joined by a friend of Bart's (the groom) who is from New Jersey. Another Sicilian! He is attending a girl named Allyn who makes it very clear that she is not with that guy but a guy in the wedding party. We chat. We scare Allyn. We are her worst nightmare: over 40, not married, and with another female at a wedding. Once I make a crack about Stacey giving me cancer, she leaves for good. Easy peasy.

What else can I tell you about the wedding? The band was white and played Motown classics. We dubbed them the Below Average White Band. Visits to the bathroom were thrilling, especially as Stacey and I had apparently donned cloaks of invisibility. Other than Joanna, Tom, Joanna's family, the Italian kid and Allyn, absolutely no one saw us! On Stacey's trip to the WC, she encountered one young woman who felt strongly she should be on American Idol. To prove her point, she sang "Isn't She Lovely" (performed earlier by the BAWB during the Father/Bride dance). On my trip to the loo, I learned that one of the girls had a brother who was "hot"! In fact, when I found out that not only was he "hot" but that he was the "Dean" of the English Department at some prep school, I knew the girl in stall number three was correct when she said the sister needed to introduce them. I mean, she was an English Lit major! Of course, I agree he'd have to shave that beard if she wanted to take him to her "club" but that's okay because it was only a "vacation beard"! Whew. Crisis totally averted. After all this excitement, we called it an early night.

On Sunday, we hit the Mall again. This time we went to the Korean War Memorial. I find it quite stunning even if some of the people there admitted out loud that they "don't even know how that war started". Oh, I don't know? WWII and that whole 38th parallel thingy? We then hoofed it over to the Vietnam War Memorial where we actually overheard some whiny teen tell his mother that he was "hot, tired, hungry, and thirsty". For some reason, his mother did not smack him in the face. Stacey and I did so in our heads.


Over heated, we went to the airport a little early because it would be cool and there was a bar right across from our gate. Before we could get there, I had to get in the security line behind a lady with a very big behind. She was traveling with some breathing equipment in a suit case so this caused some issues for TSA. To make matters a little more complicated, she decided to pack a can of bean dip. Apparently she didn't think this would be an issue. It was. She made it out of security as we were sipping our first drinks, for which Stacey was carded. We both laughed and I said, "do you want to see mine as well?" Our less than charming waitress said, "No, I don't think so". My lovely buzz was ruined when on the flight home. I was across the aisle from a young lad who had crossed that threshold of puberty but was still unaware of the fact that this meant his feet now stunk.

And now the rain has cleared and the sun is out and I have come to the end of my tale. I am sure I missed something but I lost my notes as the airport bar. I blame the waitress!

Am I Pleased to See You or Did I Just Put a Canoe in My Pocket?

"WOOF!"

First let me get this out of the way, "I was right"! I just knew it was going to be a boy. Perhaps it was the agita (a sure sign there is another man in your life!)? Perhaps it was the early arrival of the pot belly? Perhaps I am a witch who can see the future? Most likely it was the luck of the draw and for once I was on the winning side of a 50/50 wager. I have been rather lucky since receiving my Wee Little Garden Gnome (yes Stef, he is sitting on the fake grass right next to the one you sent years ago).

In honor of Baby D (aka Larry Larry), I thought I should host a "Flash By Name, Flash By Nature - Name the Baby D Contest" because I just think the kid is going to be pretty Flash*. I haven't decided what the prize might be - Perhaps I can interest someone in some Indians tickets? How about a LeBron James Cavs jersey? - but we'll cross that bridge when someone really impresses me. To get you started, I thought I'd provide you with some little known facts about the Baby D:

• Baby D's father, maternal and paternal grandfather, and paternal great grandfather are/were all Larrys so he hails from a long line of Larrys.
  
• Baby D's mama was born and raised in West Unity, Ohio, a town with a stop light. This means you can reach into the Palin lexicon to come up with some really creative names based on geographic locales. So go forth and utilize the "Google Maps" for delightful locations in Northwestern Ohio and please, don't forget your favorite fair food!
  
• No one in Baby D's family has yet employed a bar sinister (that's for you Anglophiles out there) so don't forget the "Thompson"!
  
• Baby D's father spent his youth listening to Rush, AC/DC, KISS, and Judas Priest. He was one of the many few who "didn't see that coming". Feel free to pillage lyrics, song titles, and band member names.

• Baby D's maternal grandmother has an irrational fear of Biblical names so don't be afraid to pick up the good book and peruse its contents for spiritual guidance.
  
• On the other end of the spectrum, Baby D is due the first week of December so that makes him a Sagittarius. According to the "stars", Baby D will be ruled by Jupiter and the Ninth House, his favorable color will be Purple (so go for the Prince), his key body part will be his hips and thighs (perhaps Elvis), and his lucky gem is Topaz (Alfred is going old school but also the name of Baby D's daddy's favorite stuffed dog).
  

In conclusion, I just want to offer a hearty congratulations to Larry and Chris and also to remind them that parenting is a serious business. You need to be cruel to be kind, to know when to give them an inch and when to yank on the leash (literally), and finally, when to say yes to the fauxhawk but perhaps no to the tattooed eyebrows and horns.

Is it just me or does this guy look a little like George?

*If you don't know your Flash, for shame! Watch this:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DYNlcLx91PA

And Here in the Bar the Piano Man's Found....

Okay, I had this really great title for this post but I've forgotten it so I've made a "note to self" to start taking notes! Perhaps as I write this it shall come back to me but I really honestly doubt it. My apologies as it was brilliant.

The night starts as each HOB night starts, at Flannery's only tonight Flannery's smells like a frat house (sour beer) and there are gnats everywhere. There are only two empty stools at the bar and those are next to a couple of other empty tools. They are playing some really bad music. One of those stations where every band sounds like Creed or Staind or one of those bands in that genre. I can't tell them apart. At some point the obligatory "If you could only see the way she loves me..." song comes on. As soon as I hear the song start I make the "this might be the worst song in the world" comment and then it happens, Stacey asks if there is a band playing. I look at her, perplexed. It turns out the tool on the stool next to her is singing along to the song, Bud Light can in hand. Well, there's nothing for it but to order the Irish Nachos and move on. As if to somehow apologize to us, they add a side of BBQ sauce. It works. That is the missing piece to the puzzle.

At about 7:30 or so we figure there should be no line at the door and we head over to HOB. We were wrong. There is a line and we have to stand there and find some way to amuse ourselves. To our right, we had images from the "Bodies" exhibit. This is creepy but also amusing because everyone looks Chinese so we begin speaking in our bad Chinese accents. Yes, "we been here for hours" a la Louie Anderson. After that loses it appeal, we start scanning the crowd. Meet Cheap Trick I. Sadly, her friend had back fat poking out of her tube-ish kind of top but I did not get her photo. I determined that she was "at her heavy weight" (copywrite My Mother - she actually made this comment about me earlier in the day - I guess she has relaxed). Actually, now that I think about it, most folks in the crowd are now at their "heavy weight". As we get closer to the door, we feast our eyes on this vision in blue. Cheap Trick II is a very cheap trick indeed. I've always thought that if you have cankles, you don't want to wear shoes that accentuate your (c)ankles. Boy, as I wrong! Short little piggy legs really do look good in lace up cream wedge sandals, especially when paired with an empire waist dress. It's kind of like Jane Austen meets Prospect Avenue (for the non-Clevelanders, that's where the hos are).

We are wrist banded, scanned, and stamped. We use the Ladies Room where I lose my balance and some people think I am drunk. I am not but if I amused them, then I am happy. We get a couple of drinks and find a place to stand to the right of the stage. We have determined that this is mostly a Cheap Trick crowd and not just because the first people we saw were an entire family in black and white Cheap Trick t-shirts. They announce the line up and apparently, CT is on first. This is good news because the floor will clear out but bad news that we have to listen to the entire CT set.

The CT set. Stacey and I are the only two people within eye and ear shot that are completely and utterly bored. Not smitten. "Lips Like Sugar" indifference. "Love Song" indifference. That said, even Stacey can't meet my level of indifference. She dances a bit during "I Want You to Want Me", "Dream Police", and some other song that was a hit that I can't remember. I mostly pee a lot and get us another drink. That is once I have had a chance to drink in their visage. Sadly, we are not close enough for you to get a great view but I can say that they really haven't aged all that well. At certain points the blond guy holds his bad back which really kind of blows the whole rock n' roll image if you know what I mean. I then get so bored I fixate on horrible mental images (does this guy have white pubes and other things I know feel uncomfortable sharing) and what does this dude look like naked. (Please note the "little doggie steps", you know the ones they make for little dogs to jump on your bed, on the black and white platform at the edge of the stage. Apparently these guys can't jump anymore. Oh, wait! Speaking of jumping, the guitarist only gets about two feet off the ground on his split leg jumps.) There is a lot of gratuitous guitar changing, throwing of picks, and creepy smiling at the crowd. At this point you may be asking yourself, "what does a Cheap Trick groupie look like?" Well, there are three "groupie" type chicks at the front of the stage who all have very bleached blond hair and the same hair cut (i.e. David Bowie in Labrynth), bobbing their heads in unison with left or right arm raised in a rock n' roll salute. In fact, it's all very rock n' roll. I always considered CT to be a bit power pop but they're not. It was kind of like a bit of power pop which then morphed into Rush from the Snakes and Arrows tour but without the hope that they will play Working Man or Fly By Night. I will be listening to the Vapors today.

As CT leaves the stage. the floor swap begins. Stacey and I wade the massive exiting crowd - in fact, I haven't seen such a crowd swap this massive since Bauhaus' Coachella appearance although I don't remember who was on before them - maybe Weezer - and make it to the floor. It's relatively pleasant until these two porky lesbians show up. Think purple windbreaker girl if there were two of her, they were fat, and they were hanging all over each other talking very loudly. Very quickly, they annoy everyone in their general vicinity, especially Stacey. When she asks them to keep to their own personal smelly space (it's hotter than hell down there), one comments that "this is the floor so what does she expect". Well, when there is space, you expect people to stay in it. This is not like expecting personal space on the floor for Social Distortion, which I have seen dudes try to make for their bitches. On to Squeeze.
They are so British, so cute, and they have aged well. Chris Difford (left) is adorable with his glasses and his music stand with lyrics and Glenn is snappy in his orange suit and white, white shoes. The guy on keyboards is great despite not being Jools Holland (who is?). The Lesbots have now moved ahead of us and begin to writhe to Black Coffee in Bed. Thankfully, after they offer me some Nicorette, they clear. The set is marred by a couple of things: a new album and the omission of one of my favorite songs. Nonetheless, Stacey and I soldier on and dance our asses off. As usual, I am sweating from the head like nobody's business. No one around us does more than sway occasionally. They play a new song which sounds like something any band at any Holiday Inn bar would play (I am bitter about this as you will see below), Goodbye Girl (it's awesome), Slap N' Tickle, that crappy Temptation song (I really don't care so much after Jools left), Cool For Cats (we did sing it loud and proud for Dean), Up the Junction, and on and on. I assume we will get Pulling Mussels From a Shell and Another Nail from My Heart for the encores. Well, we got the Mussels but not the Nail. I leave, drenched and slightly heartbroken but with the knowledge that I will always have the Rib Burn Off!

We decide that we must do our bit to keep them in the style they deserve and buy over priced t-shirts. Stacey gets the one with the Squeeze logo (see above) and I get a bright mustard yellow number with red ketchup letters that says "I Quite Like Squeeze". Yeah, baby.

Time to go home. It's hot, the top is down, and we are blasting "Another Nail From My Heart" on the stereo. As we stop at Superior and East 9th, there is a firetruck. As one we shout, "Hey Firemen!" and then realize the top is down and that was our loud outside voice. We laugh and then as we turn the corner, we get two honks from the Firetruck! Take that Cheap Trick hos!

Marley & Me

So there it is. Herr Doctor removed the Steri-Strips yesterday and for the first time, I cried "Ouch!" Not once during the four radioactive injections in my face, the needles in my arms and hands, the 100 stitches or their removal but only when the good doctor pulled those little strips from my neck and face. Hey, it hurts when those little hairs are pulled out of your head!

Okay, it's kind of ugly but you can't see it head on and it's only been sixteen days since the surgery. I am told that the lumps and bumps are normal and I believe they should subside as everything heals. But I am jumping ahead! I had a female resident who came in and checked things out in general and talked to me about how I was doing. I decided not to mention the whole Ferengi thing as she didn't look like she liked the Sci-Fi. So, I told her fine and that I really wanted these damned strips off and to work out again. She promised Herr Doctor would take them off and that he'd probably give me the okay on the exercise. She then left and I sat bored out of my mind for about 10 minutes.

When Herr Doctor came in, he had the same resident plus another. The first thing out of his mouth was "Oh, what happened there?" I explained the body check and that Doctor Woodhouse (yes, I will always go to him even if he spells his name wrong) didn't like the one on the side of my nose. He said it was odd but not in a bad melanoma kind of way. He kind of just smiled and shook his head. When it rains it pours. I gave him the Godiva chocolate from my mother and said, Now you have to share"! He then starts pulling off this strips (insert ouches) and says, "You don't mind if I talk about you..." "Like I am not here" says I. "No, knock your socks off" I tells him. He then describes how the skin on my cheek used to be all the way over there as I think "and it feels like it wants to go back". He tells them that it was odd that I had this on my cheek so young and then refers to the man they had just seen who had one in the same spot (this would be the guy who had surgery two days before me) but he was twice my age. I then shout, "He was 100?" Herr Doctor says, "Wait, how old are you" and we all laugh. The man was like 92 so they gave me a few years. Ta.

He then gives me the drill. Lumps and bumps. I can buy expensive creams for the scar but he suggests using Vitamin E capsules (which I have just done) and tells me to always wear sunscreen there to protect from scarring. I can work out (I did forty five minutes on the treadmill this morning) and I don't have to come back for two months. He still wants to see me regularly even though I am in a very low risk group (in fact, it is 97 out of 100 people in my group will never have further issues).

So now it's Marley & Me. Had he had that toe checked out sooner, he'd still be smiling, smoking, and fathering children. Scars suck but it's a lot better than the alternative! Ride natty, ride!

It's Benign, Bitch!

So this post is a little late but I was just too happy yesterday. From now on, I think I shall always celebrate June 25. Why not. It was a good day.

I still have Ferengi ear and I feel like a 75 year old on my left side but all my facial muscles work. Who's complaining? Not me.

BSpot tomorrow night and Squeeze is 7/11. Hopefully I can dance by then.