I really must start getting to sleep slightly before midnight. Write that down.
Highlights of the weekend are too many and too good to get into detail about or I will be up until the wee hours. Who am I kidding? I’ll be up anyhow.
– Saturday night at the Bishop with Chrissy, Scott, Phillipa, Conor, Joe, Joyce, Dan and JVL and their lady peeps was excellent. Once again, a little bit of poison was had with the unfortunate Jager/Schlager/amaretto/sambuca/other combination (I always forget this is a bad idea at crunch time). On the bright side, at least Dan and I learned our lesson about Wombats (horrible rum-based shooters). I got to meet the infamous and awesome Glenda, Joe got in touch with his – and Justin’s – masculine side, photographic evidence suggests I may have smooched Joyce, and I think we prank called J.Wilson. Good old fashioned shenanigans. The only thing missing was Melly, who I hope feels well enough to come out and play soon.
– Sunday morning my Gadget Liver did a champion job of filtering my toxic bloodstream into a good semblance of normality. Ed cooked me a lovely greasy breakfast involving the key elements of tea, eggs and chicken bacon, and with the help of a lot of fluid I was on my feet and serving the comic book reading public. Spent the whole day upstairs at the Snail cleaning and restocking miniatures, and am appalled to discover that I now know far more than I ever wanted to about D&D Harbinger uncommons. Egad.
– Sunday afternoon I began working myself into a mild panic about my MRI, but was happily distracted by the unexpected appearance of *Christian Slater* casually browsing on the first floor. Apparently it’s not uncommon for him to drop by our store, but I was having some difficulty processing this information and will now be mocked until the end of days by Sarrah for being starstruck. Come on, people! Heathers? True Romance? Interview With the Vampire? Name of the Rose? Pump Up the Volume? Hell, even Bed of Roses? Did nobody but me see these movies at an impressionable age?
– Sunday evening began with me being hospitalized, deafened, paralyzed, piercingless and partially naked for about half an hour. Stupid broken brain. Stupid MRI. Nothing makes one feel less sexy than wearing a hospital gown, unless it’s wearing a hospital gown WITH a disposable blue hair net. Hospitals are just so nasty. I don’t mind loud noises, or remaining perfectly still, but both at the same time is no fun. Especially when all you can look at is a metal cage hovering inches away from your face, and the pitch and rhythm of the noises changes ever six minutes. First jackhammer, then car alarm, then broken furnace. Once it was over, I took the streetcar back along Queen and then met up with Julie and Sarrah at Spadina. By the time I got home I felt well enough to call my Mom and then debrief with Chrissy.
– Sunday night was spent at Chrissy’s apartment, where I stole and ate some pizza and chocolate transfat biscuits enveloped in transfatty chocolate coating. Mmm. We indulged in a little photoshopping magic, insulted Cleio, laughed a lot, goofed around and suddenly it was eleven o’clock. And here my weekend endeth.
You forgot The Legend of Billie Jean! That one rawked! \m/
Did nobody but me see these movies at an impressionable age?
Considering that my title at the atheist nunnery used to be Sister Mary Christian Slater, I think it’s safe to say that no, you are not the only one. 🙂
Also, stupid MRIs indeed. Had one once, don’t feel the need to ever have another. 🙁
“All I want to do is graduate
from high school, move to Europe, marry Christian Slater, and die.”
Yeah, you know it, my fellow Buffy lover. Go read‘s rant about how he knows so many famous people that Christian Slater doesn’t seem like a really big deal. Pshaw. He is so not grasping the situation.
am appalled to discover that I now know far more than I ever wanted to about D&D Harbinger uncommons. Egad.
I’ve had that moment. Where you can just rattle off, “But then in the storyline Iceman and Rogue took that journey north….” then you realize that even though you don’t read the line, you know these things, and mumble, “Oh god. i need to stop talking to Golden & Sam.”
‘course, the names are probably different in your world.
As for Christian – ooh. Now that’s one I’d get excited over, and I trip over the damn celebs at my part time gig.
“So be it!”
Because yeah, I’m not going to, like, drop my entire life just to shag Shatner, you know? Therein lies la difference.
My Slater-ignorance in this area is unforgivable. But you can tell me all about it in person tomorrow – rawk, indeed! 🙂
I have never taken the time to rent ‘Billie Jean’, but I promise I will rememdy that situation soon, probably exposing my poor roommate to so much teen drama he will explode.
Do I get Slater-points for owning ‘Pump Up the Volume’ on DVD??? And having a croquet set in my TV room? Or are those just ‘Scary-points’?
Did you skip the part where I mentioned the guy was my teenage role model? I can still quote most of Heathers from memory. I just try to maintain a respectful perspective on the situation. Hmmm, and whose hand did he shake?
Um, I think I’m going to have to set a little time aside to read through the backlog of your journal, because 1) I don’t know who Golden & Sam are, and 2) I’m not sure what your part time job is!
First ‘Billie Jean’, now this!
Please, relieve me of my horrid ignorance.
… is that Billie Jean is NOT your lover.
She’s just a girl who says that you are the one.
This is clearly the new, lowest low I have ever sunk to. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go hang out in the Corner of Shame now…
Okay, I went blind for a second there, just from reading about Shatner copulating.
Mostly because it raises the possibility of Joe’s little Shatner freak-out being the result of his wishing he could make the love to Shatner. Twenty years ago, that might have been kind of sexy, but now…
*shakes it off*
Would you feel better if you knew that I was thinking the same thing?
I was too embarrassed to ask whether or not Michael recorded that song specifically for the movie, but have not yet paid a visit to IMDB to find out what the plot is. I think I’ll like it better if it’s a surprise. Does this mean you haven’t seen LOBJ yet either? ‘Cause we could add it onto the list…
Please. You’re not the one in a show that requires you to look all googly-eyed at a Shatner impersonator, so don’t even talk to me about blindness. :p
My favorite is still Gleaming the Cube.. who could forget a young punk skateboarder whose asian adopted brother is murdered and who is then forced to solve the crime, clean up his appearance to score with former asian brothers girlfriend and then skateboard through highway traffic launch off a huge ramp and land on the escaping villain’s car all without a scratch except to the busted skateboard.
You so need to come by and watch Free Enterprise to understand the Shatner thing. But first you have to watch “Arena”, in which Kirk fights the GORN! GORN!!
grumble . . . kids these days . . .
And it’s called a TYPO, old man.
You’ll be making more of those in the years ahead, as the arthritis worsens and the vision dims. M and N will all seem the same to you soon.
My arthritis was over years ago. Physio has completely repaired my decade-old chronic back complaint. My vision’s sharpening. Clearly, I am aging in reverse. I shall be seventeen again in no time, and then we’ll see what’s what.
And if I came out and said I didn’t want to shag Kirk, I’d be depriving you of yet another small pleasure, and I promised myself I wouldn’t do that any more.
Now Elvis, that’s another story . . .
The only thing missing was Melly
wasn’t there somebody else missing? somebody who tried to make an appearance, but was foiled by his ignorance of the bishop’s downstairs?
but it’s ok, i’m crashing tuesday night’s festivities anyway. invitation or no.
Quite frankly, Tuesday night may well turn out to be the night Saturday was meant to be, what with you, Melly, AND all being conspicuously absent on Saturday…
Sweetheart, you know I adore you, but I can’t have you coming to events where I’m trying my damnedest to attract other menfolk. Your intimidatingly manly presence would cause the other guys in the room to crawl back into their shells or put up their defenses because of your intimidating array of geek knowledge, bold facial piercing, manly jawline, etc. Can’t have that. *smooch* But I’m sorry we missed you; I’ll see you tomorrow night and there will be much rejoicing.
Sam = pseudo little brother figure who is rather big comic book geek. He’s lovable in a college boy that’s out of the mts. of upstate NY & has a tendency to get drunk & leave incoherent voicemails & aim for you. Also? he’s one of my minions. See? I gave him a sticker.
http://www.cafeshops.com/nodignity.8486583?zoom=yes#zoom
He also writes for NoDignity.com upon occasion.
Golden = Christopher Golden who started out as a VIP with the Boston Bronzers, but then lost that status and is now one of the miscreants I hang out with. He’s so into comics that he actually writes them, and between the two, I’ve learned more about comics than I ever thought I’d need to know. *grin*
My part time gig is working at the Gap in a mall in W. Los Angeles that is the current “in” mall – i.e., we get a lot of celebrities. If you read back far enough, you can see such fun anecdotes as the time my manager said to Justin Guarini “American Idol? Oh, that’s not famous.”, or when we helped Dennis Quaid pick out underwear so that he wouldn’t have to go commando in Las Vegas, & and other hijinks. I am constantly amused by the irony of the fact that I didn’t come to LA for the entertainment industry, and yet I have had several jobs in & around it, and I keep tripping over the damn celebs. During last year’s LA weekend, my dog ran over Julia Roberts & I didn’t even notice who it was until pawswithclaws pointed it out to me later. *g*
to combine the celebs with my personal dorkiness, I believe that somewhere in the quote archives of ND.com is a section where Sam & I geek out over the fact that I met Brent Spiner, aka Data from Star Trek, then bemoan that we are the biggest dorks ever for being excited about that.
Heh. Welcome to the madness, gurlie.
Young Elvis, Old Elvis or please not this, please not this Dead Elvis?
Circa ’68 comeback special. Those ‘burns. That black leather. Right before he went over the edge into the hell of Vegas.