Sorry about the informal introduction. Christy took off about an hour and a half ago. I went grocery shopping and didn't save nearly as much as I would have hoped with the coupons I brought. I've settled my purchases within the last few weeks and should settle my check book in it entirety. There are fish sticks cooking in the oven and Metallica on the turntable. I bought the record of Death Magnetic at the Hot Topics but don't feel like a total tool for having done so. LP is the format I was looking to pay for anyway and the sound quality is top-notch. Another reason to stick with vinyl when making album purchases. I'll have to go back after the next paycheck and pick up the Andrew Jackson Jihad's album. I saw it amongst the emo, metal, and "hardcore" records and was very intrigued by the group's name. After some research, it seems they are comparable to They Might Be Giants, except more disturbing. I can live with that. It wouldn't be the first time I bought and album without having any precedent.
While we were in the store, Christy and I had a lovely idea for a couple's Halloween costume: Marie Antoinette and Wolverine. There was a cute (not to mention sexy) Marie Antoinette costume amongst the other "sexy-insert slightly arousing conceptual character" outfits, along with a bitching Wolverine mask and claw gloves. Christy's sleek and fair enough to pull off Marie Antoinette and I'm certainly short, hairy, and foul-tempered enough to make a convincing Wolverine. If we're going to be in Madison for Halloween, we would fit right in with the cheerleaders, indians, and drag queens. Originality is hard to come by these days, and a murdered head of state should never be without a government-engineered killing machine with retractable claws and a drinking problem.
Speaking of originality, I'm glad to know that Christy understands my bizarre humor. We walked around Wal-Mart for a half hour or so last night waiting for Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist. A quick aside: skip it. The music is not as good as hoped, the film-makers seem more interested in New York City than their lead characters, and we never see the mysterious Where's Fluffy, the enigmatic band everyone (besides those tracking down Norah's drunken best friend) is hunting for. Three highlights: a terrifying cameo from Andy Whats-His-Face on Saturday Night Live, recorded finger-banging at Electric Ladyland Studios, and a fabulous gay posse of band-mates. How did the boy know the werewolf skins would explode so ferociously?
Anyway, while we were in Wal-Mart, Christy took us through the ladies' jammy section. Bed pants, shirts, slippers, etc. Giving a child a fake cat to play with and care for is not only damaging for the child's psyche, but irresponsible parenting. Marshmallow power - I can control time! A certain series of pajama pants were styled with owls and cupcakes. She sees the logical combination, whilst I simply blurt out, "I will eat your frosting eyes." We both have a good laugh over this and continue to fondly remember it. My girlfriend gets me. Vincent Price cares about his pastry avians. So much.
- Later -
Thinking back about the weekend, I think Friday needs some serious explanation. It was fun, don't get me wrong, but it could have been much better. To have myself, BJ, Ben, Mike, Derek, Watkins, and Sean together in the same room is a recipe for magic. I didn't experience even a rabbit out of a hat. Pitiful. I don't blame Mike, per say. Catie showed up relatively out of the blue
and dragged his shit down into the dumps. I don't blame Catie, either. I blame them both to an extent. Catie should understand that her effect on Mike doesn't satisfy any sort of revenge, nor does it bring him any closer back to her. It only makes him a hypocrite. I remember him telling me that he was done with her completely, that he couldn't even think about her. He's not strong enough and that saddens me deeply. I fear I have truly lost my friend.
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